così opposti e così lontani, non potevano mai vedersi né toccarsi, eppure erano intrappolati dentro. così diversi e così distanti erano come sole e luna. ed erano in grado di colorare il cielo anche nella notte più scura, facendo restare tutti senza parole. erano come luna e sole.
If we bruised where we ached we’d all see a different kind of beautiful. With corrupted skin of a mapped out past maybe we’d have a better understanding. We’ll have the marks of blue solar systems across our heavy heads, circles over each knot in our spines, bruises in the shape of cuts from being stabbed in the back. There’d be deep navy in the outstretched tips of our fingers from yearning, from reaching, from holding on and letting go, colour blooming on the soles of our feet from walking and walking and running with inconsistent monotony. We’ll have battle marks across our chests, dark purples splattered on the left above our racing hearts. Necks hold dark fingerprints from the ache of being choked by soft things that shouldn’t hurt but do.
If we bruised where we ached, we wouldn’t be able to hide and maybe then, and only then, we’ll realise the lie in “I’m fine.”
Okay so, I was talking to my friend again, and we were talking about how innocent Preston is and how he’s just a pure cinnamon roll and then she said “what if Preston heard the SS and (other character) banging in the middle of the night. And then I added “What if Hancock was like ‘oh we were moving some furniture around, wanna help?’” and Preston (being the sweet baby he is) is like “Oh! That makes sense, I thought it was something else hahahah, sure!”
edit: I’m so sorry, these colours are killing me. I’m really sorry, I forget to adjust my monitor and the colours come out way too bright