Underneath It All, Sarah Was Still That Hurt Little Girl Waiting For Her Brother To Come Home, But Home

Underneath it all, Sarah was still that hurt little girl waiting for her brother to come home, but home had become the graveyard his bones lay in, buried beneath the dirt. She remembers how he'd always seemed afraid of the dark, and yet now he'd be stuck in it forever. The very thing he feared became his final resting place. Perhaps a piece of her heart had gone with him when he'd passed. 

She'd lost the guidance and sense of direction in her life early on, and so she directs her grief-stricken anger at the world and everyone in it, because otherwise she'd be straight back to square one: blaming herself. At times, she feels remorse, wishing she could take all the things she'd said to others in anger back. 

On lonely nights such as these, her thoughts could become dangerous. Would one more bad night sweep her away and bring her to the same fate as her brother? The thought scared her, terrified her even, but it wasn't out of the realm of possibility. It would be easy to take one too many pills, to do something reckless, something drastic in a spiral, and never wake up again. The darkness looms. 

She didn't like the person she'd become following Mark's death, she felt the urge to reach out to Evelin but didn't want to burden her friend with her thoughts, especially as early into the morning as it was. So she doesn't. They say that time heals all wounds, but this statement didn't seem to hold true for her. The pain seemed to worsen as the years passed. It made it sink in. It made it more real. 

She wasn't a child anymore, and Mark wouldn't ever be back. Her teenage years had passed by like a blur and been mostly lost through the haze of grief, aside from the noteworthy memories. She remains distantly tied to the age at which she lost him. Sometimes it felt like she was still that girl, helpless, watching the world collapse around her. Even the good memories from before then hurt because that's all they were now—memories. 

Yet she keeps all of his little stories and poems in a safe place to remember him by because she can't move on. Her thoughts eat at her, they feel suffocating, she suffers in silence. she cries alone, her tears soak her pillow. Another sleepless night.

(I wasn't confident enough to post this to ao3 and I'm not a writer at all so don't flame grill me. I might delete this tbh)

Blue

“All I know is she left a lot of stuff in my apartment she's never getting back”

I lost my tedious battle in drawing the other eye so this artwork shall remain one-eyed.

Unfinished art again (I'm a lazy mf)