I Think Life Loves Us

I think life loves us

I honestly think we have the wrong idea about love and life. I think love is being tender and forgiving, even when we're not to ourselves. and I think love is being firm when needed because our actions have consequences and we need to accept them even when they hurt. Not shielding the people we love from the consequences of their actions is an act of love, it's a chance you have to say "I'm here, I'm with you, I'll stand by you, and I want you to be the best version of yourself you can be so I'm not gonna shield you from life."

And I think that's why life loves us. Because she won't shield us but she'll be with us every step of the way, holding our hands.

TBH we all kinda collectively think Latino soap operas are the only ones serving the authentic Latino drama but let's be honest here

What the fuck hotd even is if not the family fighting over their late granpa's house?

To Decadent Poets - Summary

Hey, guys! That's my book here, I decided to post a few chapters (or maybe more) after translating it from Brazilian Portuguese to English. I really wanted to share this work and hope you enjoy it.

Here's a quick summary of the book:

Title: Taigh Hill Dedications

Series: To Decadent Poets

Tags: Dark Academia, Poetry, World War II, Scotland, Art;

If you liked... you're gonna like this: Chronicles of Narnia, Harry Potter (especially Marauders era), Anne with an E, Enola Holmes, Pride and Prejudice, etc.

Trigger Warning: child abuse/neglect, abusive relationships, racism, antisemitism, xenophobia, biphobia, homophobia, anxiety crisis, mentions of abortion, PTSD, post-partum depression.

Add: The book didn't have a Sensitive Editor, so any problems with how people of color, disabilities, or queer people are portrayed can be discussed directly with the author.

Synopsis: When the war begins Christian is sent to the North of Scotland to live with his estranged godfather in his isolated property. He couldn't imagine he would've found his kindred spirits at that forgotten place, his family in every way but blood.

Noah is a jew, Oliver is German, and Annie has a strong head that can rival his own. All of them were very different but their love for art and an old mystery of the old property can be enough to join them forever or never again allow their friendship to flourish.

Author's note: Historical accuracy is not something this author tried to pass on in this story, dear readers. There are a lot of historical changes happening in the books and in no way should this book be considered a good account of real events of the time they represent.

Summary (with links):

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7 - Coming soon...

Whenever I'm studying Marxism (and that's quite a lot of times actually) I remember Marx's idea that Revolution can only take form through hate.

Of course, I know now it's a very specific form of hate and that it's pointed to a specific community of people but when I started learning about it, I often found myself rebelling at the notion of hatred as a conductive to Revolution.

I thought hate was too volatile, too savage to be trustworthy but as I grow older and see the world as it is I see myself tasting that hate — and it's hard to actually put into words but this hatred is not ugly and unpredictable.

This hatred is actually quite beautiful, it's not a firing blaze scorching down the earth but a burning fire cleansing a wound, it's born out of indignation and love for humankind. It's there because I love humanity so much I can't help but feel the indignation for what happens to us to my very core and I can't help but turn this into anger, into hatred against those I know are responsible for this.

I really think Marx was onto something with this besides the whole political and economic points he usually made.

The thing about Armand to me is that he strips us of any preconceived or prejudiced notion of what it means to be a manipulator or a narcissist. Most people who'll emotionally abuse you in your life won't be this evil character who is out to get you, they'll be people who actually feel and experience the emotions and feelings they manipulate you with.

To them, the reality of those feelings is there, raw and feeling like an exposed wire. That's why it's so hard to get out of toxic and/or abusive relationships — because you learn the way your abuser see and experience the world and it makes sense to you, even if it doesn't on a rational level. You get it. You empathize with it. And it becomes so much harder to leave.

So yes, Armand is this abused, traumatized man who regrets things and is so desperate to be loved he'll do anything to have it. But he also will do anything to have it.

It's why forgiveness is earned, not deserved. If forgiveness was about deserving, the whole world would be made of saints.

Being an adult while watching iwtv means that you really can't pick a character to hate on because of nuance - and they're all equally horrible lovable hateable complex beings, can't even be mad at armand because he's not some evil mastermind manipulator, while at the same time he is, but he has the cadence of doing all of that while being a shivering, quivering scared chihuahua and that's what makes it worse because 'evil' is not some big tough infallible guy. It's a 17 year old guy with glowing orange eyes with enough anxieties in him to melt a planet and he's always plotting in such a loser yet scaryy way. You get me ?

Truth is... I cannot live with my own heart

It was just that... there was so much loneliness in adult life, so much loss. If she thought about it, Annie could make a whole timeline of her life with the things she had lost as she grew up:

At first, she lost things she didn't care about anyway, like clothes, shoes, and jewelry. Then, she lost toys and blankets and beds as she grew a bit older. Then, she lost friends—both sides forced to separate because of changes in their parents' lives (Annie believed that was why there was so much rebellion in adolescence: nothing but a desperate struggle for a bit of control so that the losses weren't so many, so extensive, so painful, to make things stop disappearing just for a second).

Then, suddenly, people were no longer so kind, so lenient. Suddenly, an adventure was just a trip, Christmas was just another celebration, songs became a little less magical—things started to become duller, less bright than they once had been to her childish eyes, things were no longer a mystery to be discovered. Suddenly, the people who had always been around her started to disappear, leaving only an irreparable void inside her.

But for Annie, the most devastating loss of adulthood was what everyone seemed to call so confidently independence, though to Annie it just sounded like loneliness; it was the belief that because she was an adult now, she should know what to do with all those feelings, with all those emotions, with all those sensations and those situations, with all that life that she didn't fully understand; it was the dichotomy between placing the responsibility of being an adult on her shoulders, but doubting her ability to be one competently with every step she took.

But more than all that, it was the complete and desperate loneliness of being left alone with her own emotions as if they were a messy room she needed to clean up, but that only kept getting messier no matter how much she tried. Alone because other people had their own messy rooms to clean up and Annie could no longer depend on them. There was so much loneliness in being an adult—no more mother's lap for you, because if you need help, it's because you're not ready. No more hands to support you while you walk, no more training wheels while you ride, no more of everything you took for granted yesterday.

Annie was only twenty-one years old, but she was already tired—no, exhausted—of adult life, because it was too many losses from all sides, it was too much emptiness, and it made her understand why adults accepted any desperate form of love that came their way just so they wouldn't have to face that life, that world, with the awareness of that loneliness.