Written By Esera
May 16, 2020, 7:05 p.m.(4/20/1013 AR)
As the daughter of the Grand Duchess, I was raised with the expectation of leadership. Raised with the belief that the Lyceum would thrive or perish by my hand, by my will.
With one careless stroke of a pen, a thousand people could die, my mother told me. Thousands. And though it might not be my family dying, might not be my friends, I would still ache just the same -- for the unknown, for the strangers. And that this was my duty, as a leader. To ache.
But to harden my heart, also.
I became Archduchess so much younger than I thought, and I thought, from all the games I'd played, all the little conniving dances, that I'd hardened my heart ... But there was so much grief in the aftermath of my mother's death, so much heartbreak in the sudden unraveling of the unknown ... And anyway, I didn't last very long, did I? As Grand Duchess? So who am I to say?
And I know, as a dead princess who is of no immediate use to anyone, my word holds very little weight -- and it is so easy to ask, if you felt that way, why weren't you there? and why didn't you? -- but I do still believe, at my core, that there are hundreds of thousands, millions!, of faces you will never know, and names you will never hear, and your duty is no less for not knowing them, not naming them.
You owe your blood, sweat and tears to these people, as they owe theirs to you. It is a relationship of reciprocity, of ... Synergy.
In the end, we all have our roles to play.
With one careless stroke of a pen, a thousand people could die, my mother told me. Thousands. And though it might not be my family dying, might not be my friends, I would still ache just the same -- for the unknown, for the strangers. And that this was my duty, as a leader. To ache.
But to harden my heart, also.
I became Archduchess so much younger than I thought, and I thought, from all the games I'd played, all the little conniving dances, that I'd hardened my heart ... But there was so much grief in the aftermath of my mother's death, so much heartbreak in the sudden unraveling of the unknown ... And anyway, I didn't last very long, did I? As Grand Duchess? So who am I to say?
And I know, as a dead princess who is of no immediate use to anyone, my word holds very little weight -- and it is so easy to ask, if you felt that way, why weren't you there? and why didn't you? -- but I do still believe, at my core, that there are hundreds of thousands, millions!, of faces you will never know, and names you will never hear, and your duty is no less for not knowing them, not naming them.
You owe your blood, sweat and tears to these people, as they owe theirs to you. It is a relationship of reciprocity, of ... Synergy.
In the end, we all have our roles to play.
Written By Appolonia
May 16, 2020, 6:57 p.m.(4/20/1013 AR)
The charters of the corsairs of Ischia prior to our adoption into the great family of Pravus are interesting reading in these trying times, and there are some facts in these charters that recur. Let me share a prototype, a sort of example that would not be too different yet elides all the small details that make them all so interesting.
"Given that all of the Treasure shall be taken in common and shall be divided into shares; that the Captain and the Master of Sail shall receive two shares; that Carpenter, Surgeon, Wainwright, Forgeman and Cook shall receive one and one half; that Serjeants one and one quarter; and every sailor at arms shall receive one; and that all who receive injury in the Fight shall be duly compensated," thus and such, with values given for proportional hurt - loss of a toe being valued less than loss of both eyes, and so on.
And further, that "All shall have common access to provisions and drink, save in times of Lack, whereupon a retrenchment shall be made for the benefit of all."
In my views, we are now, in a sense, all the crew of this great ship, this Compact. As a scholar and a student I could not claim, thus, more than one and one-half share in justice, and so I will be resolving to dine sparingly. I do not have arms to raise against Want, but I do, I am told, have two Kings and sixty Dukes to share. (As a memorandum to historical scholars, this refers to FORMS OF CURRENCY THEN COMMON. Also, AHOY FROM 1013.) I shall, therefore, submit them to the relief of the Poor beneath the broad unfurl'd wings of Our Faith (not the part with the swords).
"Given that all of the Treasure shall be taken in common and shall be divided into shares; that the Captain and the Master of Sail shall receive two shares; that Carpenter, Surgeon, Wainwright, Forgeman and Cook shall receive one and one half; that Serjeants one and one quarter; and every sailor at arms shall receive one; and that all who receive injury in the Fight shall be duly compensated," thus and such, with values given for proportional hurt - loss of a toe being valued less than loss of both eyes, and so on.
And further, that "All shall have common access to provisions and drink, save in times of Lack, whereupon a retrenchment shall be made for the benefit of all."
In my views, we are now, in a sense, all the crew of this great ship, this Compact. As a scholar and a student I could not claim, thus, more than one and one-half share in justice, and so I will be resolving to dine sparingly. I do not have arms to raise against Want, but I do, I am told, have two Kings and sixty Dukes to share. (As a memorandum to historical scholars, this refers to FORMS OF CURRENCY THEN COMMON. Also, AHOY FROM 1013.) I shall, therefore, submit them to the relief of the Poor beneath the broad unfurl'd wings of Our Faith (not the part with the swords).
Written By Thea
May 16, 2020, 6:19 p.m.(4/20/1013 AR)
What an interesting adventure that was. I sailed through a storm. That was quiet a feat on it's own. I will not go into too many details here of the trip, not at all. But I will tell you I came home with a souvenir. The best souvenir. I can't wait to display it..Don't worry. The screams will be enough to know it was found. And then it will be displayed in Malvici hall..
Written By Fianna
May 16, 2020, 4:28 p.m.(4/20/1013 AR)
Today is my birthday and it's been a month since my husband, Duke Kaldur, went missing along a stretch of the Great Road between Stormwall and Pearlspire. There have been several meetings between myself, search parties, advisors, and those involved with the open investigation over the last four weeks. Our search has coincided with another matter that the Northland faces concerning animal attacks in villages, which we cannot rule out as a possible factor to look into. There is a lead that might provide some insight to my husband's whereabouts and I am preparing to take measures to gain more information. There is nothing I wouldn't do to find answers and to provide closure for my family given how many questions hang over us like a heavy storm cloud. And when I say family, I mean both Crovane and Seliki as we navigate the difficult path ahead of us together. Words cannot express how grateful I am to have Count Orrin standing beside me as we keep faith that Duke Kaldur will be found and brought back home.
I'm also grateful for the support I've received this week regarding the scrutiny focused upon my family in the whites. It's incredible how many people will extend themselves to help my family cope with our Duke's disappearance, and how many will try to divert our attention toward an issue that's already been discussed several times in the past (publicly and privately). To those of you that have reached out with offers of aid, my family and I sincerely thank you. To those that continue to take issue with Crovane marriage contracts, feel free to send a messenger to me and I will do my best to settle whatever issue you have with them so that you can move forward.
I return to Stormwall this week to continue the search for my husband and I plan to visit Pearlspire along the way. It will be good to see Duke Kaldur's family again, especially during this difficult time.
I'm also grateful for the support I've received this week regarding the scrutiny focused upon my family in the whites. It's incredible how many people will extend themselves to help my family cope with our Duke's disappearance, and how many will try to divert our attention toward an issue that's already been discussed several times in the past (publicly and privately). To those of you that have reached out with offers of aid, my family and I sincerely thank you. To those that continue to take issue with Crovane marriage contracts, feel free to send a messenger to me and I will do my best to settle whatever issue you have with them so that you can move forward.
I return to Stormwall this week to continue the search for my husband and I plan to visit Pearlspire along the way. It will be good to see Duke Kaldur's family again, especially during this difficult time.
Written By Sirius
May 16, 2020, 4:08 p.m.(4/20/1013 AR)
Relationship Note on Ida
Dame Ferron,
If I may be so bold to praise, that in your latest creation of Alaricite you didn't just simply win the bout, you enraptured the crowd while doing so and then went on to win all the accolades as you knocked series upon series of teeth off of contestants' mouths on the way to the top,
It was brutal, and an honor to watch,
Thank you.
If I may be so bold to praise, that in your latest creation of Alaricite you didn't just simply win the bout, you enraptured the crowd while doing so and then went on to win all the accolades as you knocked series upon series of teeth off of contestants' mouths on the way to the top,
It was brutal, and an honor to watch,
Thank you.
Written By Sirius
May 16, 2020, 4:05 p.m.(4/20/1013 AR)
This one shouldn’t be as long as the last, custodian,
Or as exasperating, or as long, and nuanced,
But here I am again, unknowing where-else defer these things I’ve experienced the last week. Sister Juniper’s hospice remains closed, and I’ve been finding no small measure of difficulty in continuing the habit of leaving flowers and things and knacks in it, and so I decided to swallow away my fears and visit the Queen of Ending’s shrine to this effect. Make no mistake, I understand you two are close what with your pantheonic ties and, as rumor goes, something-something I have not the gal to mention, but I mean no disrespect- it’s the spiders I fear, not her. Not her message; her cyclical connection to the world and its moving wheel, I understand these things,
But I don’t understand spiders,
Small, swarthy cretins with their head crouched beyond them as though gated by their own stride, legs squatting defilade. All eight of them, hairy, incredibly articulate these legs,
I’ve been mentioned before that beauty’s meant to be in the eyes of the beholder, and I promise you here, knowledge-bearer, that I’ve tried - I tried - to keep an open mind as I entered the Shrine first-time. I needed only take one cursory glance right to look at that pit of earth wreathed in white, where they keep them. At its rim the strangest of thin filaments which listed about at even the slightest suggestion of a breeze, and you’d know it, the Shrine scarcely felt any wind at all,
The closer I got, the webbing took a strange, civilized shape; the recency of its creation apparent in its tight strappings: cockroaches, flies, and even mice, all bound snug in the hangars of white silos and planes like morsels upon a pale rug,
I imagined myself inside one of these cocoons, the finality of being so thoroughly bound and turned inwards by something tightly surrounding me from every direction. It’s horrifying,
Just as I had gotten close - too close, foolishly so - a black shadow sauntered up from behind the veiled domicile, coming to the fore as if freshly departed from its trapdoor. Its mandibles clicked, suckling onto a kind of half-regurgitated appendage acting as an odd, macabre pacifier. It was the biggest spider I had ever seen, and before I used to think that “the hairier, the worse,” but I was wrong. Nary a hair on this one spider, one could see the pristine sleekness of its form, the black-and-crimson pattern of its hull that finished in some bizarre and vulgar recreation of a ‘skull’ on its abdomen,
I knew she meant business and she knew that I didn’t and so we parted ways,
Everything else was beautiful. The gothic feeling the atmosphere builds, is fantastic. If one can ignore the hundred of eyes blinking in and out of the darkness from up the ceiling, surveying all inside, there’s beauty to be had in this environment,
It felt strangely fitting to leave the Sister flowers here, seated on a bed of umbels probably crawling with spiders,
Looking forward to next week.
Or as exasperating, or as long, and nuanced,
But here I am again, unknowing where-else defer these things I’ve experienced the last week. Sister Juniper’s hospice remains closed, and I’ve been finding no small measure of difficulty in continuing the habit of leaving flowers and things and knacks in it, and so I decided to swallow away my fears and visit the Queen of Ending’s shrine to this effect. Make no mistake, I understand you two are close what with your pantheonic ties and, as rumor goes, something-something I have not the gal to mention, but I mean no disrespect- it’s the spiders I fear, not her. Not her message; her cyclical connection to the world and its moving wheel, I understand these things,
But I don’t understand spiders,
Small, swarthy cretins with their head crouched beyond them as though gated by their own stride, legs squatting defilade. All eight of them, hairy, incredibly articulate these legs,
I’ve been mentioned before that beauty’s meant to be in the eyes of the beholder, and I promise you here, knowledge-bearer, that I’ve tried - I tried - to keep an open mind as I entered the Shrine first-time. I needed only take one cursory glance right to look at that pit of earth wreathed in white, where they keep them. At its rim the strangest of thin filaments which listed about at even the slightest suggestion of a breeze, and you’d know it, the Shrine scarcely felt any wind at all,
The closer I got, the webbing took a strange, civilized shape; the recency of its creation apparent in its tight strappings: cockroaches, flies, and even mice, all bound snug in the hangars of white silos and planes like morsels upon a pale rug,
I imagined myself inside one of these cocoons, the finality of being so thoroughly bound and turned inwards by something tightly surrounding me from every direction. It’s horrifying,
Just as I had gotten close - too close, foolishly so - a black shadow sauntered up from behind the veiled domicile, coming to the fore as if freshly departed from its trapdoor. Its mandibles clicked, suckling onto a kind of half-regurgitated appendage acting as an odd, macabre pacifier. It was the biggest spider I had ever seen, and before I used to think that “the hairier, the worse,” but I was wrong. Nary a hair on this one spider, one could see the pristine sleekness of its form, the black-and-crimson pattern of its hull that finished in some bizarre and vulgar recreation of a ‘skull’ on its abdomen,
I knew she meant business and she knew that I didn’t and so we parted ways,
Everything else was beautiful. The gothic feeling the atmosphere builds, is fantastic. If one can ignore the hundred of eyes blinking in and out of the darkness from up the ceiling, surveying all inside, there’s beauty to be had in this environment,
It felt strangely fitting to leave the Sister flowers here, seated on a bed of umbels probably crawling with spiders,
Looking forward to next week.
Written By Sydney
May 16, 2020, 3:52 p.m.(4/20/1013 AR)
Relationship Note on Revell
On respect, I can speak only for myself:
When you are treated by default as though you are wretched, filthy, and will pick someone's pocket or slit their throat if given a dark alleyway by a large majority of those in the wards above, it is difficult to muster the energy for mutual respect. It breeds resentment and a brittle temper at best - and at worst? You start to believe the misconception for yourself.
Your father has the right of it.
Your commentary, on the other hand, is puzzling, and I'm still trying to grasp what you mean in your statement about being 'alike'. Of course everyone in the peerage is alike. But trying to paint over divides in wealth, class, and status with a sentiment that broad is idealistic at best.
If a nobleman insults a beggar from the Lowers, he may well lose some esteem among his peers. If a beggar from the Lowers insults a nobleman, they may well lose their life. 'Accidents' have a way of happening with far greater frequency around those with the greater means to cause them, and the reach of coin far outstretches the reach of a beggar's shiv.
I think you've misconstrued the intent of your father's words, or fumbled in your delivery of your point.
Respectfully.
When you are treated by default as though you are wretched, filthy, and will pick someone's pocket or slit their throat if given a dark alleyway by a large majority of those in the wards above, it is difficult to muster the energy for mutual respect. It breeds resentment and a brittle temper at best - and at worst? You start to believe the misconception for yourself.
Your father has the right of it.
Your commentary, on the other hand, is puzzling, and I'm still trying to grasp what you mean in your statement about being 'alike'. Of course everyone in the peerage is alike. But trying to paint over divides in wealth, class, and status with a sentiment that broad is idealistic at best.
If a nobleman insults a beggar from the Lowers, he may well lose some esteem among his peers. If a beggar from the Lowers insults a nobleman, they may well lose their life. 'Accidents' have a way of happening with far greater frequency around those with the greater means to cause them, and the reach of coin far outstretches the reach of a beggar's shiv.
I think you've misconstrued the intent of your father's words, or fumbled in your delivery of your point.
Respectfully.
Written By Corrigan
May 16, 2020, 3:13 p.m.(4/20/1013 AR)
I've mostly stayed out of the feces-flinging lately, but I've been beseeched by a Godsworn to offer Vellichor my thoughts in a White. Who am I to deny a Brother of the Faith?
So, as requested:
- Babies look like deflated pigs' bladders with eyes.
- If it wasn't horrifying, it'd be funny that the various holdings around Arvum are run by overgrown manchildren who feel the need to publicly compare dick sizes by challenging each other.
- An ignoble ennobled noble is almost but not quite as ignoble as a noble who's been noble since birth and still sucks at it.
So, as requested:
- Babies look like deflated pigs' bladders with eyes.
- If it wasn't horrifying, it'd be funny that the various holdings around Arvum are run by overgrown manchildren who feel the need to publicly compare dick sizes by challenging each other.
- An ignoble ennobled noble is almost but not quite as ignoble as a noble who's been noble since birth and still sucks at it.
Written By Rowenova
May 16, 2020, 2:14 p.m.(4/20/1013 AR)
Relationship Note on Morrighan
Favorite Dame of All Time
Written By Delilah
May 16, 2020, 1:55 p.m.(4/20/1013 AR)
Now to find a worthy successor to hat theft
Written By Drusila
May 16, 2020, 12:44 p.m.(4/20/1013 AR)
Relationship Note on Arik
With the charm typical to northern lords, Arik does an exemplary job illustrating why Steelsilk is a fabric unlike any other and why working it requires more then just skill with needle and scissor. Taking a fabric that will never give way and turning it into a worthy piece of clothing takes deep understanding and craftsmanship the results of which I'll never cease to appreciate.
Written By Cristoph
May 16, 2020, 12:43 p.m.(4/20/1013 AR)
Relationship Note on Alis
When you mention Duke Arn Telmar, it reminds me of a day when my father had brought me along to one of the meetings between High Lord Radley and the leaders of his ducal houses. Duke Arn was on a tear about something, I can't remember what anymore. But what I do remember is my father, sitting there, watching him. His expression was impassive, but under the table he was tapping his index finger against the arm of the chair. He was just patiently waiting for the screed to come to a conclusion before he spoke. You couldn't tell that what had happened was upsetting to him at all.
But that was always his tell, the tapping. It meant that he was getting increasingly aggravated with Duke Arn.
Later on, I could hear but not make out, the angered mutterings about the meeting while he was talking to my mother. Always done behind closed doors, always where the children didn't hear. Where the servants would have less of a chance to take an irritated comment as something to blow up into a larger, juicier gossip. He maintained a polite, cordial relationship with the Telmarch the entire time he was duke.
I think of moments like that sometimes when I'm becoming annoyed. Not to say that I'm annoyed now. Duke Ansel is really quite a nice man.
But that was always his tell, the tapping. It meant that he was getting increasingly aggravated with Duke Arn.
Later on, I could hear but not make out, the angered mutterings about the meeting while he was talking to my mother. Always done behind closed doors, always where the children didn't hear. Where the servants would have less of a chance to take an irritated comment as something to blow up into a larger, juicier gossip. He maintained a polite, cordial relationship with the Telmarch the entire time he was duke.
I think of moments like that sometimes when I'm becoming annoyed. Not to say that I'm annoyed now. Duke Ansel is really quite a nice man.
Written By Sydney
May 16, 2020, 11:42 a.m.(4/20/1013 AR)
Since multiple people I know seem to be bringing up these what-if-scenarios of maternity:
In the fleeting, terrifying scenario in which I have children, I hope they'll already know enough about me from my own words not to be surprised by what they find rattling around in my journals. And if they stop to read the whole of it rather than bits and pieces, they will find my passing squabbles and base annoyances as nothing more than proof of my humanity, and I should think they would laugh on the matter.
I doubt the gods mind a whit if we're human.
I rather get the impression some of them might even have a laugh at these journals.
In the fleeting, terrifying scenario in which I have children, I hope they'll already know enough about me from my own words not to be surprised by what they find rattling around in my journals. And if they stop to read the whole of it rather than bits and pieces, they will find my passing squabbles and base annoyances as nothing more than proof of my humanity, and I should think they would laugh on the matter.
I doubt the gods mind a whit if we're human.
I rather get the impression some of them might even have a laugh at these journals.
Written By Amari
May 16, 2020, 10:34 a.m.(4/20/1013 AR)
I keep meeting strangers in the woods who don't seem to think I belong out there. To them I insist that I most assuredly do, and would appreciate it if they didn't point spears and other sharp objects at me in protest. They have only themselves to blame if they find themselves trampled under hoof, or worse.
Those I met that were less violently opposed to my presence made for pleasant company, however. There are many people who simply aren't well suited to the salon or ball, or even just the pace and scale of Arx, but are no less interesting than the most refined courtiers in their fanciest fashions, really. They're usually quite engaging, if in a different way and in an often refreshingly honest manner.
I still do not appreciate insults given to my goat, however. That's just cruel and such unkind behavior tests my patience.
Those I met that were less violently opposed to my presence made for pleasant company, however. There are many people who simply aren't well suited to the salon or ball, or even just the pace and scale of Arx, but are no less interesting than the most refined courtiers in their fanciest fashions, really. They're usually quite engaging, if in a different way and in an often refreshingly honest manner.
I still do not appreciate insults given to my goat, however. That's just cruel and such unkind behavior tests my patience.
Written By Ida
May 16, 2020, 9:31 a.m.(4/19/1013 AR)
Alaricite is a metal I have feelings about. I respect it, somewhat like a younger person respects an elder maybe. It's a metal that feels old and somehow wiser than me when I work with it. It's hard to explain, but I find on those few occasions when I've reason to work with it, that I need to quiet myself for the task.
Forging a weapon from alaricite feels like my fighting days, is the best way I can describe it. There were certain fighters in the circuit that I knew I could beat, if I was really careful and utterly on my game, but that still awed me when I would face them in the ring. I respected them for their history, for what I knew they were capable of, and on a few occasions I didn't feel quite worthy of being considered good enough to stand across from them. I felt fortunate too, though, each and every time. And if I did well? Regardless if I won the bout or not - it felt really damn good.
Forging a weapon from alaricite feels like my fighting days, is the best way I can describe it. There were certain fighters in the circuit that I knew I could beat, if I was really careful and utterly on my game, but that still awed me when I would face them in the ring. I respected them for their history, for what I knew they were capable of, and on a few occasions I didn't feel quite worthy of being considered good enough to stand across from them. I felt fortunate too, though, each and every time. And if I did well? Regardless if I won the bout or not - it felt really damn good.
Written By Dagny
May 16, 2020, 9:27 a.m.(4/19/1013 AR)
Relationship Note on Poppy
Once upon a time...long, long ago. There was a young girl named Poppy, and she heard that there was some delicious mushrooms that grew in the frozen forest.
So she gathered her basket and went out to find these mushrooms. Only an angry bear had woken from sleep with a terrible belly ache and needed those mushrooms himself. So there was a terrifying confrontation, and Poppy climbed a tree to safety.
There she would have stayed if it wasn't for one Dagny that came by. There was an epic confrontation between woman and bear. Woman wins, bear crawls home.
Poppy gets her mushrooms and the bear's belly is the least of its worry.
So she gathered her basket and went out to find these mushrooms. Only an angry bear had woken from sleep with a terrible belly ache and needed those mushrooms himself. So there was a terrifying confrontation, and Poppy climbed a tree to safety.
There she would have stayed if it wasn't for one Dagny that came by. There was an epic confrontation between woman and bear. Woman wins, bear crawls home.
Poppy gets her mushrooms and the bear's belly is the least of its worry.
Written By Revell
May 16, 2020, 8:56 a.m.(4/19/1013 AR)
Lately, I've put a lot of thought into the word 'respect'. In the Lowers, it is a word tossed around often, and I have never felt quite right with its use - using fear to control and pacify others never felt like respect to me, but, after sending a few letters back and forth to my father, he put it very well;
"Sometimes, people use the word 'respect' to mean 'treating someone like a person', and sometimes they use the word 'respect' to mean 'treating someone like an authority'.
And sometimes, people who are used to being treated like an authority say 'if you won't respect me, I won't respect you', and they mean 'if you won't treat me like an authority, I won't treat you like a person'.
They think they are being fair, but they aren't, and it's not okay."
I think about this a lot, and I wonder if these people of the Lowers are aware that they are not different to the sort of members of the Peerage that they like to loathe so much?
"Sometimes, people use the word 'respect' to mean 'treating someone like a person', and sometimes they use the word 'respect' to mean 'treating someone like an authority'.
And sometimes, people who are used to being treated like an authority say 'if you won't respect me, I won't respect you', and they mean 'if you won't treat me like an authority, I won't treat you like a person'.
They think they are being fair, but they aren't, and it's not okay."
I think about this a lot, and I wonder if these people of the Lowers are aware that they are not different to the sort of members of the Peerage that they like to loathe so much?
Written By Raymesin
May 16, 2020, 7:07 a.m.(4/19/1013 AR)
So I look at some of these journals you've been kind enough to show me, Scholar, and I see all sorts of stuff. I see people telling us all who they really are, laying bare the hatred and contempt in their souls, even if that's not what they think they're doing.
I think it's safe to say that some of the higher nobles will never see eye-to-eye with the likes of me, not least because I'm that far above them.
I think it's safe to say that some of the higher nobles will never see eye-to-eye with the likes of me, not least because I'm that far above them.
Written By Revell
May 16, 2020, 5:42 a.m.(4/19/1013 AR)
Between hello and goodbye, there can be so, so much love.
Even if it ends, that alone makes the experience worth it. You were blessed to have your heart filled with love for another, maybe it was even returned. And if it wasn't? It is the most beautiful feeling, loving someone unconditionally.
And something even more beautiful in telling them how you feel, unashamed, without room for doubt. Even if it is not returned, even if it can never be - everyone deserves to know that they are loved, that somebody out there cares oh so deeply for them.
It is so easy to feel like you don't deserve such bliss. It's so easy to feel like nobody cares for you to that extent. It's easy to grow insecure and believe that nobody will ever look your way. Maybe being told by someone you least expected it from that no, you do deserve love, you are loved, you are special.. maybe that could change a life for the better.
Somebody once told me that I was obsessed with letting others know what I feel about them, when I feel it. He is right. Perhaps it'll come back to bite me in the ass, but so be it. It physically pains me to think that somebody I hold dear might disappear without ever knowing how cherished they were.
It's an interesting thing, feeling so much love and care, feeling this desire to share it, but not wanting or expecting more than a close friendship. No inappropriate desire, jealousy only coming from getting to spend less time with a friend, no daydreams of kisses and marriage and kids.
Maybe that isn't love? Maybe it's a different kind of love?
I'm still trying so desperately to understand my own feelings, but I think I'm getting closer to an answer.
Thank you, Scholar, for listening to a young girl who's had a bit too much to drink ramble on and on about love in the late hours of the evening. You are the best - sometimes you just need to shout this kind of thing into the void, you know?
Even if it ends, that alone makes the experience worth it. You were blessed to have your heart filled with love for another, maybe it was even returned. And if it wasn't? It is the most beautiful feeling, loving someone unconditionally.
And something even more beautiful in telling them how you feel, unashamed, without room for doubt. Even if it is not returned, even if it can never be - everyone deserves to know that they are loved, that somebody out there cares oh so deeply for them.
It is so easy to feel like you don't deserve such bliss. It's so easy to feel like nobody cares for you to that extent. It's easy to grow insecure and believe that nobody will ever look your way. Maybe being told by someone you least expected it from that no, you do deserve love, you are loved, you are special.. maybe that could change a life for the better.
Somebody once told me that I was obsessed with letting others know what I feel about them, when I feel it. He is right. Perhaps it'll come back to bite me in the ass, but so be it. It physically pains me to think that somebody I hold dear might disappear without ever knowing how cherished they were.
It's an interesting thing, feeling so much love and care, feeling this desire to share it, but not wanting or expecting more than a close friendship. No inappropriate desire, jealousy only coming from getting to spend less time with a friend, no daydreams of kisses and marriage and kids.
Maybe that isn't love? Maybe it's a different kind of love?
I'm still trying so desperately to understand my own feelings, but I think I'm getting closer to an answer.
Thank you, Scholar, for listening to a young girl who's had a bit too much to drink ramble on and on about love in the late hours of the evening. You are the best - sometimes you just need to shout this kind of thing into the void, you know?
Written By Iseulet
May 16, 2020, 5:37 a.m.(4/19/1013 AR)
If you love me
for what you see,
only your eyes would be
in love with me.
If you love me
for what you've heard,
then you would love me
for my words.
If you love
my heart and mind,
then you would love me
for all that I'm.
But if you don't love
my every flaw,
then you mustn't love me-
not at all.
((Lang Leav))
for what you see,
only your eyes would be
in love with me.
If you love me
for what you've heard,
then you would love me
for my words.
If you love
my heart and mind,
then you would love me
for all that I'm.
But if you don't love
my every flaw,
then you mustn't love me-
not at all.
((Lang Leav))
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