No one had called me a coward. Maybe no one had even noticed the way I’d bolted. But I had. I could come up with great excuses for being so scared. I was the only one who’d ever been chewed almost in half by a shark. And that was a pretty good reason to feel afraid.
But nothing changed the fact that I had run away.
And that feeling was crowded in my head with a whole ton of emotions about seeing my mother.
It was a terrible thing when my mom died. Or at least seemed to die. But as awful as death is, at least there’s an end involved. You know what has happened. It makes sense. An awful kind of sense, but sense.
You meet other people who have lost mothers or fathers. You turn on TV and see stories about people who have lost parents or brothers or sisters. You read it in books. In newspapers. The counselors at school have a category for you, and they tell you things that are supposed to help.
You hate it, but you belong to a group of people like yourself.
But what group is there for people whose mother isn’t dead but is a slave to an alien presence in her head? What group do I belong to when I realize that what looks like my mother is actually someone who would kill me without hesitation?
I guess it’s what Jake feels every time he sits down to dinner with Tom. I guess he feels the same way I do. Only Jake and I don’t talk about that kind of stuff. Jake’s my best friend. But he’s my best friend because I’m me, you know? Because I’m funny and smart and I’d back him up any time, any place.
I mean, what am I supposed to do? I’m me, Marco, not some touchy-feely, share-your-feelings-with-the-group kind of person. I don’t share feelings, I make people laugh…
“Nice world you live in, Marco,” I said softly. I could trust my father and maybe end up dead. I could try to help my mother and maybe end up dead. And as a bonus I could get all my friends killed and doom the entire human race…
And I thought about my father, sitting down in the living room and turning on the game. Who knew if he was my father any more than my mother was really my mother?
I couldn’t really trust him. I couldn’t go downstairs and spit all my problems out for him.
But you know what? I could sure go sit with the man and watch the game. I could do that."
Animorphs, #15: The Escape by K. A. Applegate
Just another one of those moments that makes me remember I read these books in grade school and, going into this re-read, didn’t remember this series as being particularly heavy or fucked up.
Ok, I will now be reading Animorphs cause WHOA.
(via seekingwillow)Posted 2 weeks ago - 79 notes
Posted 2 weeks ago - 147,267 notes
can the science side of tumblr explain this
swag • per • a • tion /swaəgpərashion/
adj. To channel the swagger inside of you and turn it into pure teleportation energy.
i.e. “dude, this party blows, i’m swagperating out of here”
this person wrote a noun, listed it as an adjective, and defined and used it as a verb
Well they’re not the English side of tumblr