Wish I could slay your demons, but now that time has passed.
"Among the daughters of the air," answered one of them. "A mermaid has not an immortal soul, nor can she obtain one unless she wins the love of a human being. On the power of another hangs her eternal destiny. But the daughters of the air, although they do not possess an immortal soul, can, by their good deeds, procure one for themselves. We fly to warm countries, and cool the sultry air that destroys mankind with the pestilence. We carry the perfume of the flowers to spread health and restoration. After we have striven for three hundred years to all the good in our power, we receive an immortal soul and take part in the happiness of mankind. You, poor little mermaid, have tried with your whole heart to do as we are doing; you have suffered and endured and raised yourself to the spirit-world by your good deeds; and now, by striving for three hundred years in the same way, you may obtain an immortal soul."
- The Little Mermaid, Hans Christian Anderson [read]
I love that story.
And it's obvious that I'm completely panicked and stressed out (due to my own making) if I'm reverting to re-re-re-reading beloved childhood classics and waking up in the middle of the night to find myself with tears streaming down my face. Which is fucking weird.
Huh, the last time I cried (over something non-fictional, because yesterday I watched Becoming I and II and... oh. And then there was The Godfather and LotR trilogies earlier this year. Oh, and Blow) was last May. In the toilets of Huddersfield Royal Infirmary, which is and was a little embarrassing.
How people cry is an interesting thing actually - the rare times I do, I do it silently, taking deep, shuddering breaths, - or their even more fun friend "silent, wracking sobs" - because no way am I going to alert anyone to the fact that I'm crying.
Ooh. I think it's a topic for thequestionclub.
- The Little Mermaid, Hans Christian Anderson [read]
I love that story.
And it's obvious that I'm completely panicked and stressed out (due to my own making) if I'm reverting to re-re-re-reading beloved childhood classics and waking up in the middle of the night to find myself with tears streaming down my face. Which is fucking weird.
Huh, the last time I cried (over something non-fictional, because yesterday I watched Becoming I and II and... oh. And then there was The Godfather and LotR trilogies earlier this year. Oh, and Blow) was last May. In the toilets of Huddersfield Royal Infirmary, which is and was a little embarrassing.
How people cry is an interesting thing actually - the rare times I do, I do it silently, taking deep, shuddering breaths, - or their even more fun friend "silent, wracking sobs" - because no way am I going to alert anyone to the fact that I'm crying.
Ooh. I think it's a topic for thequestionclub.