arwen ♥ resubmission ♥ d5

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INFORMATION

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BIOGRAPHY

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my name is arwen and i don't know what to do
my name is arwen and this is my time capsule

(the year of the 63rd hunger games)


hello, future person
i'd like to know what is happening in the world you live in
who lives in my house
what their stories hold
but that is not how time capsules work
i don't think that's how they work, anyway
if people have worked out time travel by then, please come back here and let me know
there are a lot of things i'd quite like to change
anyway, i'm going to assume you'd like to know about me
if you don't, bury this right where you found it (at the foot of the sycamore tree, incase you forgot) and leave it for somebody who does
i think, if enough years pass, then perhaps it'll find someone who cares about me

ha
it sounds pathetic, doesn't it
well, let me warn you right now that if you have a problem with reading about some meaningless teenager's story, then you should stop reading
this is no great historical treasure
it wont help you solve the mysteries of the past
(unless you are my future grandchild and i have gone crazy, in which case, leave me the fuck alone and move on without me, please)
but, on the off chance that you don't have better things to do
i'll write something
and bury it
and assume that whoever picks it up bothers reading
(this is where you come in. do your job.)

i suppose i should start
but you know, i'm kind of afraid
i don't admit to being scared often
but in truth the thing i most fear is my future
my past comes close

my name is arwen - my last name doesn't matter anymore
i live here, right where you found this letter
i doubt it still stands, but there's a house here
it's beautiful, honestly, although it's falling apart
and even though i scowl most of the time, i love it more than anywhere else in the world
we call it sycamore house
me, edgar, lilith, silas, ruth, blaire, septimus, laila, ara and miss aggie
and i suppose that they're the reason i'm writing this
me, i deserve to be forgotten
but they don't
in a hundred years from now, i want somebody to know about everything they did
and every smile that lingered on their lips despite their terrible lives
i need somebody to know that silas holds me when i'm upset, no matter what time of day it is
i can't let it go unnoticed, not ever, that lilith cooked us dinner even when the pantry was bare
that edgar told us everything was going to be okay
that all of them deserves a million times more than what they have
and they don't complain

so i want you to promise me that if you read every word of this
that you'll make sure they're noticed
somehow

i'll start with me
because after all, isn't that where every problem begins?
when i look back on the days i spent in my own home
with four younger siblings and two parents
everything seems so fucking perfect
and i think that when you think about things that have happened
it's a lot easier to see them that way
in reality, i cried

there was never a time when i didn't feel as though i deserved more
than what i had
except for maybe now
when i have less than ever

back then, i tied bows in my sister's hair and read stories to my brothers
my parents tucked me in each night
and kissed my forehead
they, too, told me everything was going to be okay
they weren't being brave, not like edgar
when he says it now, we know he's lying
things wont be okay
and yet he tells us anyway that they will
because even though he doesn't know
the mistruth reminds us that somebody cares
enough
to lie

when my parents stroked my hair
and said, 'you're beautiful'
i pushed them away
and it hurts to think of that
because right now i'd do anything to pull them close

the truth is, i was born with everything
i just didn't know it until i was gone
i'm not going to say that anything took them away
and for once it wasn't my fault
they died
they got sick, and they fucking died, and that was that

i was the lucky one
which at the time i found twisted
and for a long time i wish i'd died with them
i'd curse the stars, the candles on the cake, the clock
and i'd beg it to take me to them
i wondered if it was punishment
for my ungrateful frowns and spoiled tears
i don't believe in fate
but if i did, i'd say fate took everything i loved away from me

i thought i'd never love anyone again
(and i wish i hadn't, because i should have learned that loving hurts)
i turned up on the doorstep of sycamore house
and i hated it more than i've ever hated anything


and maybe, if sycamore house is still standing
and you're supposed to be there, too
and perhaps you hate it
because it will never replace whatever you just lost
give it up
because believe it or not, sycamore house will be the best place you ever live
and the people inside will give you far more than what they owe you
which is nothing
and you better take it
and promise me you'll never hurt them
or hurt it

after a while, it started to be alright
alright wasn't good enough
not for me, for i am greedy
i began to learn about everyone else
and their stories
the doorstep babies who never had
lilith, who committed a crime that her parents were blamed for
quiet blaire and ruth

without my noticing it, things began to hurt
somewhere inside of me, i guess
and plenty would call me self-centered
(trust me, i call myself that every single day)
i found my own ways of fixing that
it didn't work for long

i liked to pretend the attic was my secret space
it wasn't; everyone knew it was there
it isn't there anymore

i hadn't stopped caring about the others
and that's what makes it worse
these people, who let sulky, miserable arwen in with bright smiles
and told their stories
and listened to mine
and silas, who was always my friend
even when i broke down into tears
i cared for them
and yet i lit the fire anyway

don't get me wrong
i didn't mean to kill any of them
i deserve for you to hate me, future person
whatever you think once you've read all of this, think it, please
but i am no murderer
i was careless
and although i pride myself on not caring about what i do
i am ashamed of that day

i couldn't see a point
or an end
not at all
and my mind was filled with my own fickle pains
so i stole, i suppose
not deliberately, but the attic burned
half the house, in ashes
destroyed
that wasn't the worst of it, as i am sure you can imagine

those selfless warriors - the children of sycamore house
they didn't run from the flames
even when stupidity had ruled over my weak mind
they came running up the steps to carry me out
any one of them could have died

i could have killed our beautiful, makeshift mother
i could have killed the bravest boy i ever knew
i could have killed a boy with a heart filled with love
or a girl who never got the chance to speak for herself
i could have killed the child who already struggled to cope
the girl, bitter, so like myself and yet so much more worthy
my first and only true love
i could have killed a baby, taken her entire life from in front of her

all because i wanted to kill myself


we lost a lot in the fire
trust
sentiment
happiness, i suppose
half our fucking house
and i suppose i lost myself, whoever that was

and it wasn't such a bad thing
losing arwen
although i am not entirely happy with her replacement
it's funny, to look in the mirror and see the same person as before
red hair in tangles
dark, smudged eyes
yesterdays dress, crumpled and hanging off my frame

and i know laila thinks that it didn't affect me
i still stap at whomever annoys me
i'm moody and sullen, i know
and there's still a large part of me that wants to push everyone away
(ha)

sometimes i think that part is winning
and i tell silas that i don't want him near me
and turn to the other wall, away from him
but still
i'm wearing his shirt
and i really hope he knows i still need him
even though i'll shout that i don't
because something in me insists that he proves that he wont hurt me

i always need to be the one doing the hurting
and more than often, i'll hurt myself

i don't think any of them forgive me
they shouldn't
but when i slump into my chair at breakfast
lilith serves me a helping of porridge
even though i hate porridge
because it's the only thing we have
and i pick at it
and silas sits beside me
even though we fought last night

and edgar asks if i slept okay
and septimus grins from the otherside of the table
sometimes ruth gives me a drawing
and blaire puts a hand on my arm
and laila does her best not to roll her eyes

ara doesn't cry when i hold her anymore
and miss aggie is alert enough to say 'dear, dear'
and then she calls me sybal
but i think
when it comes down to it
this is love

and i have wronged, and they still give me a bed
and come looking for me when i haven't come home
in a thunderstorm
and drag me away from the mirror
when my reflection has melted into nothing but the truth
and they make me play with them
when i tell them i want to be left alone

and this is love

ha
i sound like the girl i said i'd never be
talking about feelings
and love
without even being fucking sarcastic
but at least i still tell the truth
the truth has just become a lot more confusing

after the house burned down
a boy came to see us
and he was just like us
not an orphan, but alone
and he knew what it meant to love
his name was klaus

i rolled my eyes and lilith fussed
as each of the children told him
that he wasn't welcome
he came to help us, you see
and i think that we've each been through so much
that help is dangerous
and it's better to just keep fighting your own battles
without intervention
the more people involved, the harder it gets
perhaps

despite our bitter words, he fixed the house
and then he left
and he never did come back
i suppose he isn't allowed to
but there are never any knocks on the door anymore
and the house is quiet

for a while, sycamore house was nothing
i wasn't there, i didn't know
it was a place for orphans, and i did not belong
to such a tragic bunch of misfits
but things happened as things do
and the room at the end of the hallway became mine
and the family became mine
and things that are mine do not last

we will never be the same again
it was wood, and then ashes
and then it was wood once more
but even so
nothing will ever be the same again

sometimes i look at photographs
and i cry
and it's pathetic, i suppose
i more than most know that when things are gone
they do not come back

and part of me hopes that once i am gone from sycamore house
sycamore house will be gone
maybe not the building
but what makes it home

you, future person, are reading this
and i want to know what that means
it could mean that something still stands
it could mean that the tree is gone
that i am gone
you could be me, embarrassed by these honest words and wanting to remove the evidence
if you are me, stop
i put this here not for myself
but for the others
because for once, i want to be a little less selfish

they deserve for this to be found
future arwen, rebury the fucking time capsule
and know that i'm sitting here, hoping to god that you're a better person
that you've broken no hearts
killed nobody
stayed put
and never, ever thrown away the things you have again
value whatever it is that's in front of you, future arwen
because it'll be fucking gone before you know it
although i think perhaps
you know this better than me
which is a shame

and if you're not me
remember that you have a job
i made you promise if you read this to the end
you would help me
and remember the children of sycamore house
and know that they are braver than you will ever be
tell someone their story
and never, ever fucking forget
because now i suppose
you have read this
to
the end

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COMPLETE

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