I've Spent A Life Chasing Stories To Tell When I'm Old

Other people's emotions are deep and complex and beautiful but mine are proof that there is rot at the core of my being

— Arthur Miller, The Crucible

"he is fictional and dead" TO YOU MAYBE

I talked to him personally yesterday and he offered me some tea

healing involves a lot more grieving than you’d expect. progress hurts. you’re moving on from things that happened but also things you wished would happen and never did. mourning does not mean you are not getting better.

Letters I write to myself from fiction characters part 1, Azriel Shadowsinger, ACOTAR

Dear my beloved, 

                                   My shadows have told me that you are struggling with your mental and physical health more than usual. I wish I could be there to help you feel better, but alas, I cannot. Rhysand has sent you on a dangerous mission, and prohibited anyone helping you. I told him it was a mistake, that it wouldn’t benefit you, but he disregarded me. I apologize that I cannot be of much help, especially since it is my fault your last mission failed. Hopefully I can convince Rhysand to let me help you soon. 

Cassian and Elain miss you. Not as much as I, of course, but they miss you. Elain says the garden is dying without you, and that the smell of baked goods that fills the townhouse is not as...fragrant as it once was. And I have to agree. Especially the garden. The flowers do seem to be wilting without your beauty and grace to strengthen them. The once delicious chocolate muffins have lost their flavour and warmth. When you return, when not if, it will be like the first spring all over again, believe me. The sun will shine brighter, the flowers bloom once again. The flavour and warmth will return to food; the days will be longer, laughter filling the streets. It will be beautiful when you return home. 

Cassian says the rooftop feels emptier when it’s just him up there without you to brighten his world. Because that’s what you do. You brighten up everyone’s world. You make everyone happy, even when you feel like giving up like you do now. Maybe that can be your reason to stay. Not for me or Elain or Cassian, but because you help people. 

I hope this helped. I will be contacting you again via letter as often as I can. I don’t expect you to reply. 

Just remember, the darkness is here to help you discover the sun inside you. 

          Your beloved, 

                                Azriel

The intimacy of answering the phone “Hey you.” The intimacy of stopping to wait when someone needs to tie their shoe. The intimacy of knowing when someone’s voice is thick with worry or sleep. The intimacy of singing (badly) with someone in the car. The intimacy of huddling together under a shelter/umbrella. The intimacy of instantly recognising someone’s handwriting. The intimacy of trying to make plans and, “Oh no we can’t, you’re working that day.” The intimacy of matching your pace to theirs as you walk. The intimacy of being there for someone as they cry. The intimacy of “How did you know that?” “Because I know you.” The intimacy of feeling someone’s warmth through their clothes when you hug. The intimacy of being given change that’s warm from the heat of someone else’s hand. The intimacy of shared, comfortable silence. The intimacy of knowing how someone would react. The intimacy of keeping the radio off when someone falls asleep on a long car journey. The intimacy of sharing one earbud each. The intimacy of noticing someone’s nervous habits. The intimacy of “I had a dream about you.” The intimacy of inside jokes. The intimacy of feeding someone food as they drive (or really any other time). The intimacy of knowing just how someone likes their tea/coffee. The intimacy of trying something new together and having no idea what you’re doing; the shared hesitancy. The intimacy of someone saying “Text me when you’re home safe.” The intimacy of someone falling asleep next to you. On your shoulder. In your company. The intimacy of sharing secrets in the nighttime, because 3am will never tell. The intimacy of someone’s pet recognising you and coming over to say hello. The intimacy of “This made me think of you.” The intimacy of borrowing a jacket still warm from their body heat.  The intimacy of seeing someone’s unfocused eyes when they first wake up. The intimacy of ordering food and “shall we share it?” The intimacy of someone sharing the meaning behind their tattoos. The intimacy of just looking at someone and dissolving into laughter together.

Poetry doesn't have to rhyme, it just has to touch someone where your hands couldn't.

Ben Barnes | Francesco Carrozzini | Salvatore Ferragamo

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