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August 11th, 2013 (07:55 AM).
you can breathe now. x
Join Date: Jun 2007
Location: Illinois, USA.
(Please keep in mind there is a chapter above this post to read! I posted two in a row this time.)
chapter 30 ; [ENSEMBLE]
Truly, it is strange how older people and pokémon die so agreeably while younger people and pokémon rot so disagreeably.
The old are—hopefully, usually—satisfied. They goals are accomplished; they’ve raised enough money and love and happiness in their lives that they can go and hold the hands of those they don’t even know. They live with ghosts and they don’t mind, because the thing about ghosts is: they can never leave too soon. They spend time together redrawing each other’s bones and blood in the most perfect way possible…
The young are more delicate. Unfulfilled and unhappy about it, they struggle to cling to life, to breath. They will claw at each other just to get a chance at their own redemption. Never mind the idea that they all suffer from the same unfortunate fate—they just want to one up each other, at any costs. I don’t blame them. I would have done the same, but now…
Whenever death comes for me, I’ll be ready.
It’s just another bird. Just another bug. Just another branch that’s fallen and made a crashing sound.
That’s what I used to say, anyway. Now they mean everything to me. I talk to them in the most spacious of voices, able to be interpreted in many different ways. No matter what, the outcome is the same: there is no fire except the one in my heart.
“If I said—listen for a moment, okay—if I said that I had a tiny little pidgey, one just like you, only wounded and ready to die within one more foodless day, and so it needed my care in order to survive, and it looked at me with its sad, sad eyes… Well, if I said that this was all I needed to be content, this poor creature that was useless without me, would you think of me as odd? If I said that I was definitely going to take a nest and move into the middle of nowhere—into these woods, essentially—would you think of me as odd yet again? If I told you that I intended to never be heard of again, that I would become a legend in the making, would you offer to come with me? I think you would. I think you really would.”
They don’t offer to come with me, but at least I make them think about it.
I’m thankful for many things that I wasn’t thankful for before…
I’m thankful for the darkness which I can now defeat. I am thankful for a voice to tell my opinions whenever I have the strength. I’m thankful for both sleepless nights and nights full of dreams, of nightmares. I’m thankful for a world that gives people and pokémon a variety of choices to pick from. Thanks, life, for the simple things and the complex things that make me think. Thanks, life, for providing my team with a sense of toleration for my wavering self. Thanks, life, both for the love that we all deserve, and for the kind of love that is given yet not asked for. I’m thankful. Sincerely—thanks for friends like the one I’ve been able to come across.
I’m thankful to be a pokémon that can still do humane, helpful things. I’m thankful to live up to my expectations as a fighting-type. Above all else, I’m thankful for Sai’s safety and willingness to become stronger, mentally and physically…
The story of this totodile, the story of this croconaw, and the story of the future feraligatr, is a story of naivety and aggression, eventual friendship and supreme strength. She started out as a baby—mature for her age—in the hands of a man who gave her the power and the enthusiasm she needed for success. She was passed on to another boy, one who would treat her with the kind of gentleness that comes from years of wishing and hoping for something great to happen. She went on a journey, hoping to meet a legendary pokémon in the midst of a fantastical myth in the making.
Legends, to me, are the best of history, retold and embellished until they shine. After years of waiting and searching, I’ve met a legend.
His name is Sai.
I like leaders. Real leaders. Not a wannabe who sweetens the day with complaints and false promises. People and pokémon need someone who is bruised and bleeding, healing and suffocating. They need someone with a temper, a sense of humor, someone who throws obscenities at the wind as if they were born to do so. People and pokémon need someone who can both raise their voice and listen with silent intensity.
Fake leaders sit and wait. Real leaders play the game of life, and they play it right. Real leaders love hard, dreams endlessly, act with high ambitions. The real leader knows how to survive in the toughest of situations and watches as his comrades fall asleep so that he can reminisce on the day and think of ways to improve.
A real leader doesn’t hide from things he knows need validation, doesn’t lie when he says he will both live and die for you.
(I’ll never let you down.)
To the person who will take my heart when I die and the doctors see that I’m an organ donor—
Treat it nicely. It’s fragile. It has lists upon lists of views it wants to see, sounds it wants to hear. It doesn’t let you hold your breath for too long, lest you should die sooner than expected. It doesn’t contain as much blood as you would like it to. Your ribcage can never be small enough to hold it, so expand its consciousness, in and out, and your ribcage will be filled. Let your senses exhaust you to the brim, and follow the premonitions given to you—you’ll never regret it. Don’t let any other organ suffer from your musings and tears. Most nights, you’ll need to cross your arms and strap yourself down. Please don’t try to fix the extra red and black stitching on the surface; they were made by my pokémon in the midst of their honest curiosity. Blue eyes, messy black hair, skinny frame… The heart knows only those things, but it will accept you anyway. Know that I’m sorry—I tried my best for you. And remember to feel real.
There it is, folks. The end of Survival Project. First of all I would like to thank each and every reader for following along with Sai and the team on their wild journey. I never expected to have reviewers who would be around the whole time or the extensive reviews I’ve gotten. I never expected to finish a story, as this is the first time I’ve written anything longer than a one-shot since I was 10. Thanks to Survival Project I now feel more confident in my abilities as a writer, especially when it comes to characters and plotting.
I’d like to thank my characters for being as wonderful as they were. Not a single one of them were particularly closed off to me (except for Sai at times) and I never could have expected to fit so much emotion or character development in a story that changes perspective every chapter. I also never expected to deal with changing perspective every chapter, but I just had to try it. The team always went well with each other in group conversations and I never dreaded writing a single chapter (only a few crazy scenes, lol). Most of all I’d like to thank Sai for being himself despite everything he went through. Sai’s story came to me about five years ago now. He was very vague at the time, but we waited until we were both ready to tell his story. Every night I replayed scenes and sentences in my head until I fell asleep, wondering if I would ever really get to that high point in my fic.
I’d also like to thank Sai for helping me in my own battles in real life. Four years after deciding Sai was mentally ill and suffering I was also diagnosed with bipolar. I don’t think I would have recognized any of the symptoms or warning signs for mood swings if it weren’t for the research I had to put into this disorder. I don’t think I’d be this far along in my treatment without this story.
So, thanks for the ride, everyone. Really.
To finish this off I have a picture I drew of the team… I never draw but I felt like doing this one day… It’s pretty awful but here it is anyway. LOL. I’m also willing to post other random things like trivia facts, the music I listened to when writing, or my notes if anyone is interested.
Sai and his team.
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