you were born on the west coast. black sand and thrashing waters, the kind of dangerous parents warn their children about. you could swim before you could walk, and you can feel the ocean in your bones, a soft ache that will never go away
you were born in canterbury. winter is nothing more than a warm embrace to you. your body convulses and shifts endlessly like the land below you, and your whole existence feels on edge. rise and fall
you were born in the wetlands. you know rebirth better than any, and yet you still feel trapped. you wake early every morning, and you know just how silent the farm can be. your life is an endless cycle of this knowing and yet you can never do anything but watch
you were born in te hiku-o-te-ika. the old gods still live inside of the earth, and you are surrounded by them. tane mahuta stands tall and so do you. breathe in, you exist at the top of aotearoa
you were born in the alpine mountains of otago. land of the red earth, isolated village, you are difficult to get to and difficult to understand. you are calmest when the wind is thin and the snow cold. poor child, you will never be able to comprehend your vastness
you were born in the cities. there is a disconnect in your identity, and no matter how many times you shift around, you will never feel at home until the hum of traffic has settled under your skin
you were born in the king country. war torn kid with too much blood on your knees, in your mouth, on your arms. there’s a rage inside of you that will never go away, but nor will the strength that comes from the bones of the kings in the soil below you
you were born in marlborough. the dry season has lasted several years, and you just want to know when everything will feel okay again. soon, i promise you
you were born on the volcanic plateau. you will never know where you belong, but that’s okay. nowhere will be able to contain you but the open vastness of the desert road. you are all too much, from lake taupo to mount ruapehu, you are unknowable
you were born in the bay of plenty. you have never known hunger, but you know suffering. you are the softest of children, raised on summer warmth and placid rivers that you know better than the back of your hand
you were born in heretaunga. you survived a place that wanted you dead. through the floods, the earthquakes, and the droughts, you still stand. you are so much stronger than you know
Nation Personifications have human IDs, passports and other official documents in which their birth year get changed every couple of years to match their biological age, and they normally use them for everything.
To ensure that personifications can carry out their duties as smoothly as possible, however, they also have some kind of special IDs that classifies them as special agents or something like that - in their country, pulling off that ID leave them basically free to do anything. In other countries, it means that higher authorities have to be called if some problems have arised, which leads to that country’s personification being notified.
There are also agreement between some countries (like countries belonging to the EU, the Commonwealth, and also between America and Canada) that let those IDs be valid in those places, even if under some limitations.
Sometimes, however, problems may arise when the cops believe those documents to be fake. This is especially true in the case of young personifications whose other documents state that they’re underage, but sometimes also America is subjected to this because of the way he behaves (he really looks like a teen most of the time)
I’m a little awkward in social settings, so a pen pal would offer friendship without the awkwardness - hopefully hahah. Anyway, I would really appreciate a bud somewhere close or far to chat with and possibly even skype with at some point. I like painting and photography, music, (i play guitar and violin) makeup, body modification and grungy/goth style. I guess it’s important to know I love diving into deep conversations into anything and everything and am happy to offer a hand to anyone who needs one.
Preferences: Really anyone, we can become buds or not. No pressure.
we were always an anthology of things to be feared when it came to rural girls. she was more wild than me, her braids always a little more crooked and she was rooted so deeply to the land the trees grabbed at her as she ran by. everyone wanted to keep a part of her for themselves.
“you’re lucky you got out when you did”
she’s marrying the son of the butcher we never really knew him, as children. we were feral girls from the farms, the kind parents warned their sons about. the kind raised on gun smoke and muddy water
“i visited the lake yesterday. do you remember it?”
she still smiles like the world is a challenge and she still laughs like cold water down your spine and i guess i fell in love somewhere between our hands clasped together as we both stepped into the cottage and the time she pressed her fingers to my mouth with a sad sad smile
“they found the body last week, are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”
i try my best not to let my mind drift back to that cold, rotting house at the end of the gravel road where a small girl is still locked in the wardrobe she would hide in until the darkness retreated
Also, there is a secondhand bookshop near Ashburton that is also giant (it is a maze of books. Inside a shed. Because New Zealand. They also give you free hot chocolate in the winter. With chocolate fish. Because New Zealand). Everything is super cheap and it is so easy to get lost in there and I love it. Also, I read somewhere that Watanuki and co are around 18/19 which makes sense but is also so weird because I never realised that being in high school at 19 is normal in the northern hemisphere
Oh my goodness. I’m googling that bookstore right now and it looks wonderful. My only possible criticism is that it’s on thE WRONG ISLAND. How can I visit it if it’s all the way down there? ;_;
Also, re:ages, I totally see their ages potentially being around that number and agree with you that the Northern Hemisphere is weird.
“Because here’s something else that’s weird but true: in the day-to day trenches of adult life, there is actually no such thing as atheism. There is no such thing as not worshipping. Everybody worships. The only choice we get is what to worship. And the compelling reason for maybe choosing some sort of god or spiritual-type thing to worship—be it JC or Allah, be it YHWH or the Wiccan Mother Goddess, or the Four Noble Truths, or some inviolable set of ethical principles—is that pretty much anything else you worship will eat you alive. If you worship money and things, if they are where you tap real meaning in life, then you will never have enough, never feel you have enough. It’s the truth. Worship your body and beauty and sexual allure and you will always feel ugly. And when time and age start showing, you will die a million deaths before they finally grieve you. On one level, we all know this stuff already. It’s been codified as myths, proverbs, clichés, epigrams, parables; the skeleton of every great story. The whole trick is keeping the truth up front in daily consciousness. (…) Look, the insidious thing about these forms of worship is not that they’re evil or sinful; it is that they are unconscious. They are default-settings. They’re the kind of worship you just gradually slip into, day after day, getting more and more selective about what you see and how you measure value without ever being fully aware that that’s what you’re doing. And the world will not discourage you from operating on your default-settings, because the world of men and money and power hums along quite nicely on the fuel of fear and contempt and frustration and craving and the worship of self”
DAVID FOSTER WALLACE (this is water: some thoughts - commencement speech at kenyon college)