esther lyubov . d4 . fin

flyss Career Tribute 646 POSTS last seen May 8, 2024 7:21:03 GMT -5 back for tha summer	esther lyubov . d4 . fin May 17, 2020 23:02:21 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by flyss on May 17, 2020 23:02:21 GMT -5
	Last Edit: May 18, 2020 19:06:03 GMT -5 by flyss Credit: Shrimp Credit: Avalon "I could have been so much more than just Neptune. I could have been a whole damn galaxy."

flyss
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esther lyubov . d4 . fin May 18, 2020 15:53:54 GMT -5

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Post by flyss on May 18, 2020 15:53:54 GMT -5

[googlefont="Rock Salt"][googlefont="Open Sans"]
To the man I used to be,

Who were you to crush my ribs into fine salt, to chop my soul into oregano and parsley, to mince my heart into the garlic my mom would forget in the back of the fridge and buy more of? You were triumph and you were anguish and you were Julius Caesar standing with his back turned to Brutus, the breath of "et tu" still a ghost on your lips as you fell to the ground and wept. But why were you always so alone, if not for the burdens your mother said you'd never have to shoulder? Why were you always so afraid, if not for the terrors your father said you'd never have to face?

I think back to the nights when you would pummel graves into the walls of your bathroom, just so that your sins had a place to hide from salvation. With each blow, your skeleton fingers would bleed a sickly sweet red, the same color of the honey suckle that grew in your backyard, and you would stab your nails into the cemetery of scabs that formed in tribute days later. I still carry those scars to this day, and they serve as a reminder of what I've come from. A friend once told me that Mariana Trench, the deepest point in the ocean, is nearly 7 miles deep; yet it sometimes feels like the depression we suffered was somehow deeper.

I don't blame you, Esther. I don't blame you for your absent father or your broken mother or the lines you chiseled between your brows from the years of anger and fear. You couldn't help the fact that your skin was never clean enough, no matter how hard you scrubbed, and you couldn't help the fact that his touch was always there, no matter how hard you willed it away. Training was your outlet, and when that was taken from you by the butterfly rashes and busted joints, you threw the makeshift braces into the ocean from the roof of your pride. His fucked up genes won't take this from me, too, you thought.

Yet he was the one that had to come carry you down, because your mother was a mess on the front porch, and your locked-up knees held you hostage 15 feet above the ground you'd wished to never see again. Your father's wealth and your mother's kindness could never return the wellness that Lupus stole, and that was the last night you felt normal, though you never would admit it. Your hickory brown hair and slate grey eyes made you the mirror image of Ivan Lyubov as he held you in his arms, though you never would admit that, either.

We aren't the same, Esther. Our square jaws and loose curls may look alike, but mine are strong while yours are weak. My sad smile comes from an understanding and acceptance of who I am, not from a longing for something different. And my condition is not something I fear or use as an excuse to pass my pain along to others; it is an opportunity, a chance to be something greater than Ivan and Aneta Lyubov ever could have imagined. You haven't had the chance to heal, Esther, and I get that. But just know that there will come a day where you're happy and alive in love and security. I'm still picking up the pieces of the boy you used to be, but just know that I'm not too far off from the "happily-ever-after" you once dreamed.

You have no one but yourself right now, and that's alright. It takes time.

We'll get there.

Last Edit: May 18, 2020 19:24:25 GMT -5 by flyss

Credit: Shrimp

Credit: Avalon

"I could have been so much more than just Neptune.
I could have been a whole damn
galaxy."

flyss
Career Tribute

646 POSTS

last seen May 8, 2024 7:21:03 GMT -5

back for tha summer

esther lyubov . d4 . fin May 18, 2020 18:14:38 GMT -5

Quote

Post by flyss on May 18, 2020 18:14:38 GMT -5

[googlefont="Rock Salt"][googlefont="Open Sans"]
To the man I will become,

I hope you have more faith in me reading this than I do in me writing this, because from where I sit on the shore, the roar of the ocean calls out to me far louder than any terrestrial being ever has. I know that healing takes time, and I know that no amount of growth will ever return the friends and trust that my wrath's mislaid. But I feel trapped, lost at sea with nothing but a single life preserver and the doubt of an entire district. I thought I knew how to swim, yet here I am drowning in my own self-hate. It's rather terrifying, to say the least.

When do things get better? My optimism fluctuates more than the tide does in its dance with the moon, and the sand I sit on digs into my thighs like needles, reminding me of the hourglass I've never been able to escape. I tell myself that I'm better now, even if I don't believe it, because I know that I have to want to improve to see improvement. But longing for the inevitable is tiring. I deserve to be alone, but that doesn't mean I want to be alone, even though it seems like alone is all I'll ever get.

The Esther I used to be was much worse-off, I know, because he hadn't come to terms with the reality he was given. He spent too many nights angry and confused and shaken more by the ways he had been wronged than by the ways he had wronged others. He couldn't see the pain he was causing because he had made himself blind to it, and the nights where Esther saw Ivan Lyubov not as a father, but as an assaulter, taught him to forget what pain was.

I won't excuse my actions because, frankly, they're inexcusable. I just want to know if it's possible to truly heal once you've been so marred, because I can't keep banking on getting better if "getting better" will never happen. I write these useless letters to my past, present, and future selves with a hope that maybe one day I'll read them in the arms of someone who loves me. I write these useless letters to my past, present, and future selves with a hope that maybe one day I'll read them and care. Most importantly, though, I write these useless letters to my past, present, and future selves with a hope that they'll tide me over until that "one day" comes.

I keep picking up the pieces of the boy I used to be, yes, but my hands are full of holes.

It's impossible to put together something you don't have.

Last Edit: May 18, 2020 19:04:28 GMT -5 by flyss

Credit: Shrimp

Credit: Avalon

"I could have been so much more than just Neptune.
I could have been a whole damn
galaxy."

flyss Career Tribute 646 POSTS last seen May 8, 2024 7:21:03 GMT -5 back for tha summer	esther lyubov . d4 . fin May 18, 2020 19:05:34 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by flyss on May 18, 2020 19:05:34 GMT -5 [googlefont="Rock Salt"][googlefont="Open Sans"] To the man I have become, Get well soon.
	Credit: Shrimp Credit: Avalon "I could have been so much more than just Neptune. I could have been a whole damn galaxy."

flyss Career Tribute 646 POSTS last seen May 8, 2024 7:21:03 GMT -5 back for tha summer	esther lyubov . d4 . fin May 18, 2020 19:06:58 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by flyss on May 18, 2020 19:06:58 GMT -5 [googlefont="Open Sans"] Fin. ripred_bot
	Last Edit: May 18, 2020 19:09:32 GMT -5 by flyss Credit: Shrimp Credit: Avalon "I could have been so much more than just Neptune. I could have been a whole damn galaxy."

✨ zozo. Retired Staff 8,205 POSTS Pronouns: she/her last seen Nov 3, 2024 19:46:04 GMT -5 bloomtodeath	esther lyubov . d4 . fin May 21, 2020 17:30:19 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by ✨ zozo. on May 21, 2020 17:30:19 GMT -5 goodness flyss, this was lovely! a fantastic return, welcome back <3
	“and men said that the blood of the stars flowed in her veins.”