Favorite Element?

A poem from my ao3.

Lovely voices of everyday life extend beyond their recognition.

May our voices reach their fullest potential, for only ourselves know the truth behind every word we speak.

With every glare, comes a price.

Brewing madness sets apart from the rest.

Tearing apart the fragile seams of civility.

Nihilistic juxtapositions between man’s souls and demeanor speak deeply to those with whom they claim they have seen enough.

Apathy runs rampant among individuals of all backgrounds, including those whose sense of self has rooted deep within themselves until it has become nothing more than a tarnished, bitter reality.

March’s spring weather proves unkind this year when the defiled floors have been swept with the wrath of the no longer existing civility of one individual.

An individual who stands in unison with another has made their decision to stand tall and riot against those that they consider less than they are.

To most, this individual is nothing more than an entity of hatred.

But often not, most overlook the journey of such hatred.

Behind those oak colored eyes that bore with hatred, there once was happiness behind them.

Once filled with laughter’s light now darkened by shadows of betrayal.

A child of joy, forged by a world of indifference.

In the ruins of swept civility, hatred blooms where hope once grew.

Now what remains is the faint metallic fiddle of his gun and the occasional swaying of his dark clothes, a shadow moving through silence.

His name will become synonymous with tragedy once the deed is done.

The consequences will be quick enough to make him suffer. 

Hatred knows no patience, and the pact binds tighter than doubt.

Bound by a silent oath, forged in the ashes of what they once believed in, with a steady breath, he lifts the trembling gun, yet the tremor in his arm makes it almost impossible to properly hold the cold gun.

So, he aims at his accomplice first, as they both had planned, letting his fingers take away.

The sound of the harsh collapse disperses throughout the scene, the silence deepens, only his shadow remains.

The cold barrel touches his temple, closing his eyes, the final blow reveals itself whole, a promise of oblivion.

As both blood puddles mix together, penetrating itself into the floor accumulating with a grand, singular red stain, it is as if their lives and their fates were never truly separate, only slowly being woven into a singular tapestry of ruin.

“The creatures outside looked from pig to man, and from man to pig, and from pig to man again; but already it was impossible to say which was which.”

― George Orwell, Animal Farm

i dont think we talk enough about the fact that at the end of lotf EVERYONE was hunting. its a perfect way to tie in jacks representation of tyranny and authoritarian ruling: how at some point, everyone becomes indoctrinated into violence under an authority figure which encourages it. not only does the violence from the hunters affect the island, it also spurs more from ralph, and it demonstrates in the end that everyone was even just slightly culpable for the events on the island.

Five years

Five Years.

Five years, and I still trace the shape of your presence— the way your fingers dance along the rim of a glass, the quiet rhythm of your breath when the world is still. You hum when you think, a sound softer than silence, and I have memorized every note.

Salt air clinging to our skin, laughter slipping between waves as we walked. You pointed to the stars as if they belonged to us, as if the sky had always known our names.

Italy woke beneath golden light, our footsteps weaving through streets older than memory. You reached for my hand without thinking, as if it had always belonged in yours.

Now, the kitchen glows in the hush of evening, the warmth of oil and spice rising between us. You stir the pot, I set the table— a quiet harmony, a life built in gestures. I watch you, I listen, I learn you. And after all this time, I love you still.

@nyben0001 Thank you for the poem request! :-)

“How long have you been holding those words in your head, hoping to use them?”

— John Locke

I will never finish this 🫒

𝘼𝙣𝙞𝙢𝙖𝙡 𝙁𝙖𝙧𝙢 1954

owch

I would like to mention to Lord of the flies readers (or readers of any books tbh) that there is no such thing as being 'evil' without a reason. I'm mainly talking about Jack and the kids who were on his side during the whole book's timeline. Yes, I know, their actions shouldn't be forgiven, but the book literally talks about how every human acts when they have power, no matter how 'civilised' they are. Everybody wants power, and hell, even Ralph isn't a saint either (Simon is though, since he fits in the Christ Archetype of characters, but that's not the point of this post). Everybody is morally grey, even in other stories, as there isn't such thing as a 'good' and 'bad'. Even in fairytales the 'good' characters do bad things. It depends on which point of view you're viewing. Even your worst enemy is the main character in their own story, and that's the beauty in people in general.

Anyways, back on the topic of LOTF, I hate when people just view Jack as just 'pure evil' because he wants power, since Ralph wasn't any better either (well...technically he was tbh cuz he didn't kill anybody, unlike Jack, but still), we just viewed from the point of Ralph, since he's the protagonist of the story. Jack might've been mean at the start, but he was that way since he had even a tiny bit of power as the head choir boy. Power, no mater how much, makes people stop viewing others as equals, or even humans. Just as people at power in society, since LOTF does symbolise society in general.

Idk I just woke up and had to write this on Tumblr cuz I'm tired of people always writing about Jack and Ralph from an objective POV (which isn't wrong, don't worry), rather than a subjective POV lol.

TL;DR: LOTF would be completely different if we viewed it from another character's POV

”Love looks

not with the

eyes, but with

the mind, and

therefore is

winged cupid

painted blind.”

-Shakespeare