TBH

TBH

I find so funny when I'm scrolling on these hashtags and then find some post with a hashtag like "I don't endorse abuse" of smt like that bc you'd think, with a media like IWTV, that'd be a given

We obviously don't like these characters because they are sane babygirl

Snape's Full Character Analysis

Okay, so I’ve already made this kind of post in my previous account (licorice-lips) but since it got deleted, here I go again because I think the world should hear more about this.

I do hate Severus Snape — and I have little to no patience for those who do and try to justify his actions with whatever. But unlike many people, my dislike for Snape doesn’t stem from “oh, he’s a child abuser” or “oh, he didn’t love Lily” but from a mix of many factors involving among other things, the way R*wling portrays supremacist ideology and its followers, the way the fandom often downplays supremacist ideology and its followers, and Snape as a character himself.

Now, I’m going to extend this essay into a full character analysis instead of just commenting on how Snape’s redemption arc sucks like I did previously because I’m feeling like it. To begin, I need you to understand how… biased R*wling’s portray of supremacist ideology really is:

J.K. Rowling is European and English (duh), which means she descends from a people who benefited (a lot and still do) from colonialism and imperialism, and both things are the basis for modern day fascism. As an author myself, it’s painfully clear to me how intrinsically close my characters and works are from myself and my own personal values. As such, it’s not such a hardship — especially if we remember how the elves and goblins are portrayed in HP — to understand how Rowling views political issues such as colonialism, imperialism and fascism.

She may not realize it but the way she does talk about the matter is such a right-wing way of tolerance to fascist thinking: as it’s very clear in Harry Potter just because of the story, the problem for the author isn’t a system of prejudice and bigotry, it’s those very few people who have become corrupted. Rowling does not identify the problem as the tree being bad when most apples — save one of two — have turn out bad. And that’s the core problem of so many things in Harry Potter but it also shows in the core problem I have with Snape’s portrayal: the way she absolutely downplays the fact that the man was a death eater for years of his life by pure and absolute conviction.

As someone who lived through a fascistic government, I’ll say it with all certainty: even the slightest support to fascistic views will propel further an agenda that will end up killing innocent people by the dozens. The truth is, even with all the undeniable good Snape did as he worked as a spy, he was a Death Eater for his conviction and at the end of the day it doesn’t matter why he chose to become one.

At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter that he was neglected and abused by his parents, or that he was bullied in school, or that his crush didn’t reciprocated his feelings: he still became a Death Eater, he chose to become one. And that is unforgivable. It unforgivable because it means he supported and actively worked for a system of thinking that ridiculed, persecuted, tortured and murdered hundreds, if not thousands, of innocent people. He advocated for a political view that has no regard for human life, that perpetuates the abuse he suffered firsthand — just in a slightly different direction. He didn’t just not break his cycle of abuse, he actively perpetuated it. Advocated for it.

And don’t get me wrong: I’m not saying here that the abuse Snape went through isn’t important at all: there is definitely something to be said about the preying of supremacist groups for young isolated men who feel left out and emasculated. But that doesn’t mean Snape gets to be absolved for his own choices because that’s what they were: his choices. He chose to become a Death Eater, he chose to uphold the cycles of abuse he had been a victim to not long before, he chose to protect it even in the face of people — good people — telling him that it wasn’t a good thing.

That’s my point, actually: Snape may have been preyed upon by the blood supremacy ideology as a teen but at some point, he chose to be influenced by it more than by millions of other influences around him. He wasn’t completely isolated or ignorant of the world to the point that the only influence he could possibly choose was the blood supremacy one, no: he had people telling him the contrary and still chose to follow blood supremacy. So, no, it’s not forgivable that he chose to become a Death Eater because he did know better than that, his very friendship with Lily proved it.

But because Rowling sees the system — a system whose very roots are prejudice and bigotry — as not actually the problem, we see these problems sliding down the hill of “oh, he was just a misguided boy” even if that’s not what she herself says: it’s what her work says.

The truth is, as much as some supremacist’s core reason for their beliefs are a deep feeling of inadequacy, that’s not enough simply because they’ll cause as much damage with their actions than any other supremacist that’ll become a supremacist for the hatred alone. Snape, who (for some) was propelled into supremacy for his isolation in his teenage years, persecuted and tortured and killed as many people as Lucius or Bellatrix did, the result is the same. And at the end of the day, the reason why you did something doesn’t matter as much as the fact that you did do something.

We can cry a river about how our intentions were good but that doesn’t mean that what we did was. Between our intentions and our actions, there’s an abyss, and it’s not until we crossed it that we can see whether or not they are alike. In Snape’s case, considering he genuinely believed the supremacist ideology he upheld would turn the wizarding world better, it doesn’t really matter: he still caused damage.

And he has never been redeemed because for a redemption arc to work properly, you need to

Acknowledge what happened — there’s not much Snape is liable to deny it happened because, of course, he’s always caught on the scenes we are privy to.

Take accountability for what you’ve done — which Snape doesn’t do, as it’s exemplified perfectly many times throughout The Prince’s Tale in Deathly Hollows. He deflects, he lies, he declares he had no intentions of doing what he did, but he never, not once, takes accountability for what he has done and what ended up hurting other people:

“There was a crack. A branch over Petunia’s head had fallen. Lily screamed. The branch caught Petunia on the shoulder, and she staggered backward and burst into tears.

“Tuney!” But Petunia was running away. Lily rounded on Snape. “Did you make that happen?” “No.” He looked both defiant and scared. “You did!” She was backing away from him. “You did! You hurt her!” “No – no, I didn’t!” But the lie did not convince Lily.”

““…thought we were supposed to be friends?” Snape was saying, “Best friends?” “We are, Sev, but I don’t like some of the people you’re hanging round with! I’m sorry, but I detest Avery and Mulciber! Mulciber! What do you see in him, Sev, he’s creepy! D’you know what he tried to do to Mary Macdonald the other day?” Lily had reached a pillar and leaned against it, looking up into the thin, sallow face. “That was nothing,” said Snape. “It was a laugh, that’s all –” “It was Dark Magic, and if you think that’s funny –” “What about the stuff Potter and his mates get up to?” demanded Snape.”

“It was nighttime. Lily, who was wearing a dressing gown, stood with her arms folded in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady, at the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. “I only came out because Mary told me you were threatening to sleep here.” “I was. I would have done. I never meant to call you Mudblood, it just –” “Slipped out?” There was no pity in Lily’s voice.”

To make amends for what you did — I’m not even going to deepen my argument on this one, it’s clear he didn’t. Not when he hurt Petunia, not when he hurt Lily, not when he hurt anyone really, the only exception being him protection Harry after telling Voldemort about the prophecy, but that’s not overcoming any patterns here, which brings me to my next point:

To accept the boundaries that you put in place as they’re on the path to earn forgiveness — which Snape also doesn’t, as exemplified in this excerpt of The Prince’s Tale:

The scene changed… “I’m sorry.” “I’m not interested.” “I’m sorry!” “Save your breath” It was nighttime. Lily, who was wearing a dressing gown, stood with her arms folded in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady, at the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. “I only came out because Mary told me you were threatening to sleep here.” “I was. I would have done. I never meant to call you Mudblood, it just –”

It’s very important to understand here that Snape doesn’t respect Lily’s boundaries of not wanting to talk to him after he called her a slur, which is also a sign of not being in a path to earn forgiveness. And forgiveness must be earned: no amount of trauma explaining our actions actually counts as an excuse for our behavior. It can explain it and thus, making forgiveness easier to achieve, but trauma doesn’t change the fact that we are responsible for our own choices and acts throughout our lives, and if we hurt someone, we have a responsibility to be accountable and make amends.

So okay, we’ve stablished that Snape has some heavy trauma to work through but that doesn’t mean he’s not liable for his own actions. Now, what we need to understand is his relationship with the Marauders. That’s a much more complicated theme, which will bring me back to Rowling and her point of view of things and how they impact her narrative and the way things are portrayed in the books.

The first thing we need to notice is that Rowling doesn’t seem much preoccupied with portraying bullying in a responsible way throughout the series. It’s clear that many of the comedic reliefs we have — especially in the form of Fred and George — are bullies in the modern, more “strict” way of seeing children’s behavior: their acts not only can be considered humiliating for some (such as Neville and other side characters in the books) but also downright cruel or dangerous. So it’s clear by her account on other similar relationships portrayed in the books that Rowling didn’t consider what Snape and the Marauders had as a bully/victim relationship.

That can be because of her age, or because of the character’s age even (they were in the 90s after all), or even a mix of both reasons, but the fact remains that she didn’t view it as bullying, so anything she writes about it will be a gross exaggeration of what she considers child rivalry. It’s one of the reasons I have the icks when anyone starts asking her for a book on the Marauders because I just know she’d butcher her way into their stories, to be completely honest.

Unfortunately, this also means it’s how Snape views it all — as something that happens between children (not saying that it didn’t cause trauma, just that he doesn’t see it as a trauma) which makes him even back up the people who do the same when he becomes a teacher, such as Malfoy and his friends. My point is that, in the building of Snape’s character, his problem with what the Marauders used to do to him wasn’t what they did but rather that they did it with him, someone Snape viewed as undeserving of it, as opposed to when someone who did deserve — such as muggleborns — were the target of said treatment:

“We are, Sev, but I don’t like some of the people you’re hanging round with! I’m sorry, but I detest Avery and Mulciber! Mulciber! What do you see in him, Sev, he’s creepy! D’you know what he tried to do to Mary Macdonald the other day?” Lily had reached a pillar and leaned against it, looking up into the thin, sallow face. “That was nothing,” said Snape. “It was a laugh, that’s all –” “It was Dark Magic, and if you think that’s funny –”

So the problem in the end wasn’t the Marauder’s behavior but their target — which, of course, was him.

But the origin of the Marauder’s dislike for Snape at that point ran deep and very intricately: there was a lot of reason why we could attribute to their hatred for each other, such as house rivalry, Snape’s fixation on Remus’ secret, James’ jealousy for Lily and Snape’s friendship, Snape’s inclination for dark magic and supremacist views, Sirius overcompensation for being raised in such a prejudiced environment and as such becoming a little too aggressive about it, and many other reasons. The point is, there was a meddle of everything by the time we reach SWM.

So their relationship is just as intricate and difficult to entangle. I’m not saying here that any of my analysis exempts the Marauders from what they did — it was serious and bad and something that shouldn’t have happened at all regardless of how I feel about Snape. But as I try to analyze Snape’s character in the books, I need to be very careful on how to approach this: my morals and interpretations of what happened shouldn’t come first to what Snape’s viewed at the moment and what he took from this. So at last, what I’m saying is: as much as I know that was some hard bullying going on there, Snape didn’t see it that way, either because Rowling herself couldn’t see it that way and because the time and the time’s belief’s system wouldn’t allow him to.

Anyway, if we take any only the facts, we have — James attacked Snape sometime after Snape tried to catch Remus in the Shrieking Shack, Snape also instigated fights with James, Snape and his friends also bullied muggleborns and blood traitor — it becomes very clear that we need to balance power relations very carefully here:

On the very top, we have supremacist purebloods, which are the most privileged social group at the time, which would include people like Lucius, Bellatrix, the Lestrange brothers, most of the Blacks, and others. Then, right below, we’d have purebloods who didn’t believe in blood purity, such as Sirius, the Potters (James specially), the Weasleys, the Prewetts, the Longbottoms and others. Plus, the more I consider the wizarding world of that time, the more I realize how close halfbloods who adhered to the purist cause had a place in society that rivaled the same importance with purebloods who were considered blood traitors, sometimes ranking even higher depending on the environment or situation.

Just to be entirely clear: when I say halfbloods, I’m not only talking about those whose heritage are certain (children of muggleborns or muggles with purebloods) but also to those whose heritage couldn’t be drawn back. For example, the Sacred Twenty-Eight, the account of all pureblooded families in Great Britain, is admittedly an incomplete and slightly biased and unreliable source. They didn’t list the Potters as purebloods, for example, solely on the account of, whilst the family didn’t have any muggle relatives, there were enough muggles with the last name Potter that they weren’t sure about the family’s heritage. So it’s fair to assume a lot of people we’d been presented to as halfbloods could be pureblood familys whose heritage was slightly questioned. So yes, I’d put halfbloods who stood with blood supremacy as just as privileged as a pureblood who sided against it because of all this background. Then, we have halfbloods who didn’t approve of pureblood supremacy, muggleborns, then muggles.

It’s quite understandable by the books that, while in SWM, Snape was in a clear place of power imbalance in relation to the Marauders, the truth wasn’t always this. Mulciber and Avery are quoted as the closest to Snape (and we know very well what they’ve become after school), and although I found nothing in regards to the Mulciber family, the Averys were purebloods, so I have to place Snape as being just as privileged as the Marauders within normal (normal, not exceptional) school social dynamics in relation to blood. Of course that wasn’t truth to every power dynamic presented within the Harry Potter world, such as the Slytherin conundrum for example.

Okay, I’ll be honest with you guys here: I feel like the imbalance people accuse the adults of Harry Potter of having is grossly exaggerated sometimes. Yes, Slytherin was in disadvantage in relation to other houses, and it was looked upon by them, but the point is: ancient pureblooded families, especially the ones who were knee deep in supremacist ideology, often favored Slytherin, that is a fact.

Regardless of it been productive or not, the most blood supremacists within the house, the more we’d get comments and actions against muggleborns within school grounds that would inevitably be punished by the taking of points (and by the way, Snape was not helping congratulating Draco for his own bigotry instead of rewarding Slytherins who were actually interested in studying and working hard on their grades).

Plus, Gryffindor is the house of the protagonist — of course it’ll gain some privileges for that. If it was Ravenclawn, we’d be discussing this issue with Slytherin versus Ravenclawn points. It makes no sense accusing other of having biases like that because it’s obvious we’d have this kind of biases exactly for the plain reason it’s the protagonist’s house.

Anyway, I digress: because of the points I just made about it, the Slytherin versus Gryffindor rivalry is not enough to grant James and the others such a significative upper hand on their privilege in relation to Snape, although I would argue that Snape’s pre-existing bigotry did him no favors in the adults’ eyes on that matter, so it may have.

Now, why am I focusing on that? Because it’s clear to me that, while James and the others had a clear upper hand on their treatment of Snape in Snape’s Worst Memory, it’s not so clear as people seem to believe what the picture looked like the rest of the time. And of course, I do understand that it seems very much cemented on everyone’s minds that the configuration of the Marauders and Snape relationship was always the one we see in Snape’s Worst Memory, but that’s not completely truth and there are hints of it since the fifth book:

When Sirius said James wasn’t the only one to initiate fights, when he said Snape was always trying to sneak up on James, when we learn of the spells Snape had invented as a teenager (we can half-confidently say they were for the Marauders considering Snape’s trying to use Sectumsempra on James, but not limited to them, of course), when we get to know that Snape was “always trying” to prove that Remus was a werewolf to get him expelled, among other moments.  The truth is, as much as I would like to point out the Marauders were not so bad, I can’t say this with certainty, but Snape apologists can’t say for certain they know fully the dynamics of their relationship either because even when the Marauders weren’t good people, they can’t say Snape was only a victim as well.

Or at least, they can’t say that he was the kind of victim who didn’t victimized people just like he was victimized too. And that’s probably even more reason why I dislike him, but I’ll get there. What I do know is that Snape, for his supremacist views alone, was doing a lot worse than what the Marauders were doing as teens. I’m sorry, it’s true: as much as I despise bullying, I can’t get over the fact that Snape was the equivalent of a Hitler youth child soldier in the wizarding world when he was a teenager. I’d punch him myself if I was his classmate, to be honest. Hatred aside, however, I do understand that what the Marauders did had little to nothing to do with supremacist views and all to do with being idiots, so yeah, fuck them. I’m not here to defend the Marauders anyway, just to condemn Snape (which, surprise, surprise, it’s actually possible).

Now, I dread having to go there, to be honest, but I want to talk to you guys about Snapes’ feelings for Lily. I’ve read the most grotesque and misogynistic things I’ve ever read in my life scrolling through Snape stans posts and let’s be honest here: Lily and Snape’s relationship was so toxic I would come back healthier if I went to Chernobyl than going anywhere near them together — because of Severus — and it’s actually appalling that some people doesn’t seem to think so. I’m sorry, but all the signs of classical emotional abuse signs are right there, just in the Prince’s Tale:

Belittling and constant criticism — I’m sorry, but his behavior alone says everything: you can’t treat muggleborns like they’re trash and then try to convince your muggleborn best-friend they she’s not. The belittling is in his actions. And then there’s the fact that Snape brings up accusations of Lily liking James more than once as a form of criticism as well (because neither have a good opinion of James, which is fair, but it’s still veiled criticism of Lily). Plus, his belittling of Lily’s feeling over Petunia’s hatred of her is obvious:

“I don’t want to talk to you,” she said in a constricted voice. “Why not?” “Tuney h-hates me. Because we saw that letter from Dumbledore.” “So what?” She threw him a look of deep dislike. “So she’s my sister!” “She’s only a – ” He caught himself quickly; Lily, too busy trying to wipe her eyes without being noticed, did not hear him.”

Gaslighting and controlling tendencies — when he tries to convince Lily he didn’t use magic to hurt Petunia with the tree branch, or when he questions their friendship because she’s trying to make a constructive critic of his life choices (“I thought we’re supposed to be friends?... Best friends?”), or when he tries to dictate who she’ll be friends with (when they’re discussing his own friends by the way). Even if Lily doesn’t let him, doesn’t mean it’s not abusive.

Isolation of loved ones — Constantly belittling Petunia, setting Lily and himself as above her because of their magic, convincing Lily to invade Petunia’s privacy thus isolating her further, causing rifts between Lily’s friends in Gryffindor and her because of his supremacist tendencies…

Jealousy and Possessiveness — I do think this one is self-explanatory.

Humiliation and Shaming — I also believe this one is also self-explanatory.

Unpredictable or Inconsistent Behavior — This is perfectly exemplified by their conversation when Lily is pointing out about his friends’ bad influence on him. We can see perfectly how inconsistent Snape’s behavior is, jumping from deflecting his accountability, downplaying his own bad deeds, to possessiveness and jealousy over absolutely nothing Lily has ever referenced to (try not to read what they’re saying but instead just concentrate at how abruptly Snape goes from one to the other):

“…thought we were supposed to be friends?” Snape was saying, “Best friends?” “We are, Sev, but I don’t like some of the people you’re hanging round with! I’m sorry, but I detest Avery and Mulciber! Mulciber! What do you see in him, Sev, ’s creepy! D’you know what he tried to do to Mary Macdonald the other day?” Lily had reached a pillar and leaned against it, looking up into the thin, sallow face. “That was nothing,” said Snape. “It was a laugh, that’s all – ” “It was Dark Magic, and if you think that’s funny – ” “What about the stuff Potter and his mates get up to?” demanded Snape. His color rose again as he said it, unable, it seemed, to hold in his resentment. “What’s Potter got to do with anything?” said Lily. “They sneak out at night. There’s something weird about that Lupin. Where does he keep going?” “He’s ill,” said Lily. “They say he’s ill – ” “Every month at the full moon?” said Snape. “I know your theory,” said Lily, and she sounded cold. “Why are you so obsessed with them anyway? Why do you care what they’re doing at night?” “I’m just trying to show you they’re not as wonderful as everyone seems to think they are.” The intensity of his gaze made her blush. “They don’t use Dark Magic, though.” She dropped her voice. “And you’re being really ungrateful. I heard what happened the other night. You went sneaking down that tunnel by the Whomping Willow, and James Potter saved you from whatever’s down there – ” Snape’s whole face contorted and he spluttered, “Saved? Saved? You think he was playing the hero? He was saving his neck and his friends’ too! You’re not going to – I won’t let you – ” “Let me? Let me?” Lily’s bright green eyes were slits. Snape backtracked at once. “I didn’t m ean – I just don’t want to see you made a fool of – He fancies you, James Potter fancies you!” The words seemed wrenched from him against his will. “And he’s not…everyone thinks…big Quidditch hero – ” Snape’s bitterness and dislike were rendering him incoherent, and Lily’s eyebrows were traveling farther and farther up her forehead. “I know James Potter’s an arrogant toerag,” she said, cutting across Snape. “I don’t need you to tell me that. But Mulciber’s and Avery’s idea of humor is just evil. Evil, Sev. I don’t understand how you can be friends with them.” Harry doubted that Snape had even heard her strictures on Mulciber and Avery. The moment she had insulted James Potter, his whole body had relaxed, and as they walked away there was a new spring in Snape’s step…

There’s also the fact that their friendship began in a relation of power that met its inevitable demise once those specific conditions tumbled down: when Snape met Lily, he was all the source she had about the wizarding world, he was her only link to that part of herself she felt was so different from anyone else. Once Lily arrived at Hogwarts, this dependance quickly came to an end with Lily spreading her wings, which probably also took a heavy tool on their relationship because its foundation was already fragile to begin with.

However, I’m not saying here that Snape was this evil mastermind at nine years old he managed to consciously ensnare Lily into this emotionally abusive relationship all by his astute manipulation. Snape was a child of abuse and neglect and, as such, he never learned how to properly bond and stablish healthy relationships. Much like the child starved by love he was, Snape probably saw every and any other relationship Lily had as a threat to their own relationship, because he doesn’t know love is not finite — he doesn’t know love stretches to accommodate other people with the time. It’s not unreasonable for me to read their relationship as such, although I’m sure that wasn’t JK Rowling’s intentions when she wrote HP, in fact it’s more than possible to admit their friendship sucked even when Snape remembered it so fondly.

As a person who actually went through an emotionally abusive relationship, I can tell how exhausting it is to carry this person along and make up excuses for everyone around you who can clearly see that this friendship sucks but doesn’t want to tell you because it might make things worse. Specially if I’m talking about someone who believes the way you were born makes you inferior in some way, that shit really hurts even when they say you’re different because deep down, you know you’re not. Deep down, you know that you’re the exception over some crooked perception you somehow beat the odds of an inferior condition and that’s what makes you “special”. And it’s gross just to think about it.

Okay, so now I think I analyzed everything about Snape I’ve wanted to analyze, so I’ll end here my enormous rant about him and if there’s anything else I want to talk about when this starts to get hate, I’ll probably post a part two.

Bye, guys!

To Decadent Poets - Chapter 3

Summary - find more chapters, read the synopsis, and trigger warnings here!

“Inside the night that covers me Black as the pit, from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul.” — William E. Henley, Invictus

Christian didn’t want to talk but it seemed no one in this house knew how to understand the concepts of privacy and personal space. Maybe that was the reason why his father was almost knocking the door of his room down, demanding he open it, his voice grave and powerful.

And he would. Sometime after getting out of the shower and dressing up.

But he knew his mom would end up having to endure it if he didn’t open it soon, so Chris hurried up to change and opened up the damn door, facing Maxwell with stony eyes.

“What do you want?” he asked, hissing in anger while his father stared at him with a furious expression, the deep brown eyes they shared shining bright with his bad humor. Chris couldn’t care less about all of his drama.

“Why are you not having dinner?” asked Maxwell, clenching his teeth and Chris looked at him, incredulous.

“Oh... because I’m not hungry?” he asked in a sarcastic tone that made his father frown deeply, wrinkles appearing all across his forehead. It made him look old.

“You’re leaving tomorrow and you won’t even have dinner with your family?”

The question was loaded with accusations and it made Christian feel rage downing in his veins like lava flowing from a volcano. He passed through the door’s threshold, closing the door behind him to stand on the dark corridor of his house as Maxwell watched him.

“I already spent the day with my family,” Christian said, using the same tone Maxwell had, wishing more than ever that he could hurt him, wishing his father cared as much as Christ tried not to. “Mom and Nana had me the whole day, I don’t need to worry about me being an insensitive prat like you are.”

“Be careful of how you speak to me,” Maxwell stuck his finger in Chris’ face with a severe expression that would never intimidate him. “I’m your father”

Those words made everything inside Christian freeze. He looked Maxwell in the eyes, feeling nothing more than cold and ice cascading down his veins like a snowstorm. He had no will to get angry at that because as Much as it was true, it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter at all.

“A father is one of the things you never were to me,” was all Chris said before leaving, going downstairs silently, not wanting to be noticed by anyone.

Miraculously, Maxwell didn’t follow him to continue their argument, and at least that made Chris relax as he walked slowly to the living room, where he knew he’d find what he needed to push away the knot in his throat and the tightness in his chest from what would happen tomorrow and in the nearest future.

Chris couldn't help but ask his mother during breakfast that day who was his godfather whose property he’d be staying indefinitely and Jeane was helpful in giving him all the information she could remember about his godfather, Elijah, the owner of Taigh Hill, and Elliot Wood, his younger brother. As it was, they both seemed happy to accept him just like two other boys his age, children of his staff who had solicited the favor.

Chris couldn’t deny he was curious to know more about the other boys but he also couldn’t push away the feeling he was abandoning his mom, which made him reluctant to think about such matters and get even a bit excited with the prospect.

Chris sighed as he looked at the shelves beside the fireplace, the countless books bound by leather whispering their stories, dropping their honey to those who were thirsty for them. Filled with life and too attractive for Chris not to let his fingers dance over their spines, reading the familiar titles, books his hand had passed through thousands of times, that made him feel like he wasn’t so alone. He knew it was cliche to say that but books had saved him from so Much unnecessary suffering.

They had saved him.

Finally, his fingers stopped at the book he was looking for and he pulled it from the shelf, leafing through the pages until he found the one he’d already read thousands of other times, running his finger over the ink and the letters, murmuring the words he knew by heart:

         Out of the Night that covers me          Black as the pit, from pole to pole,          I thank whatever gods may be          For my unconquerable soul.          [...]          It matters not how strait the gate          How charged with punishments the scroll          I am the master of my fate          I am the captain of my soul.

Chris looked at those words of blurred ink, internalizing them with an involuntary shiver. They were so powerful he could almost feel them physically, caressing his cheeks, warming his heart, loosening the knot in his throat as he knew they would do.

“Chris, is everything okay?” the sweet voice of his mom entered his ears, taking him from the world of the words with a sudden push, making him raise his eyes to her, blinking away his surprise at seeing her there with Nana, both of them knitting.

Jeane seemed better with the afternoon while Nana still had that serious, sour expression on her face, no doubt remembering the Great War time when she lost her husband. He forced himself to smile at his mom, walking towards them calmly, not allowing himself to hesitate.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” he answered while sitting on the armchair beside hers and watching the two most important women in his life. Chris waited for a while until he took a deep breath to gather the courage to ask Jeane: “You’re really not going?”

He didn’t know what he looked like then but Chris could hear the tremble in his voice, the vulnerability in it. And maybe Jeane had seen something in her child’s eyes because he put aside her knitting needles and turned completely to him, her baby blue eyes shining with all the worry she was fighting to hide from him.

When her fingers touched Chris’ face, he felt the same as when he’d read the poem. It was like the words were penetrating his soul as if his mother’s touch was something sacred and revered. He let his head roll down, closing his eyes to enjoy the caress. When Jeane spoke, her voice was melodious, a murmur full of emotion:

“Believe me, cariad, I wish I could go with you or that I had a way to keep you close to me but I can’t...” Her voice was taken by emotion, making Chris open his eyes to look at his mom’s baby blues. “I can’t abandon your dad because this will be Hell for him and it’s my duty as his wife and life partner to stay by his side. I couldn’t bear, though, if you were in danger.”

“While you’re free to choose the risk,” Chris shot back resignedly, leaving the armchair to sit on the wooden floor, by his mother’s leg as he embraced them like he did when he was a child and felt sad his dad wasn’t present to some special date or event.

He let his head rest on her lap and Jeane didn’t hesitate to run her fingers through his hair soothingly.

“We’re all free to do so, mi hijo,” said Nana with her Spanish accent getting thicker because of the emotion she was trying so hard to hide. “But you know your parents would never know peace if you stayed. Or even me, to be honest. War is hard and it takes a lot of people, but more importantly, it takes a lot from people. The young ones especially.

“I’m realizing that,” was all Chris said in a murmur, his eyes closed as his mom kept running her fingers through his hair.

He didn’t leave when Maxwell entered, although it wasn’t the same relaxed feeling he felt as he talked to both women before, but Chris tried to pretend he didn’t exist as his father did the same. Chris found out pretty quickly it wasn’t so relieving as he thought it would be.

——— ◘ ———

On the following morning, Chris and his family arrived early at the train station, which was already filled with people coming and going from their jobs, all of them carrying tired expressions but with arrogant, optimistic feelings on their straightened backs. He could hear his father’s assistant commenting that they already had won the war and that the Germans wouldn’t have a chance. Chris almost laughed at the poor fool.

As a diligent reader, Chris had begun to understand the world they lived in too early and he had always cared about the news, especially When it was about external affairs. He knew well that England was broke, as were many countries because of the Wall Street Crash of 1929 and the Great War at the beginning of the century; he knew it’d be a difficult war that would drag on for years before it was over.

Chris also knew about what Hitler had been doing to the Jews in Germany and to think of that kind of cruelty gave him shivers even if he tried not to think about it, as his mother had requested some time ago. It was hard to have hope when one knew everything there was to know around the world and something they quite needed was hope.

Chris took a deep breath, trying to ignore the push and shove of people around him as he tried to also protect Jeane from it. They were in front of the train, impatient because they knew they had no time left. Maxwell seemed as cold and distant as always, and he didn’t even look at his son or Jeane as they said their goodbyes, preferring to speak to his assistant instead.

When the final moment arrived, mother and son looked at each other with pain filling their eyes. Chris didn’t even try to resist the impulse of pulling his mom in to hug her with all the strength he had, holding on to her as if she was all that he had. For a long time, it had been true.

Jeane hugged him back, always armed with her infinite softness and didn’t let go of him until the train whistled, warning the passengers to get in soon. As they let go, Chris touched their foreheads together for a couple of seconds, his eyes still closed. Then he let go of her, looking at Jeane, then at Maxwell.

They exchanged an uncomfortable look, neither of them knowing what to do. At last, Chris turned with his back straightened. As he walked away from his parents, he had this latent sensation that he was losing a part of himself and the shadow of his dad’s goodbyes was tormenting him. It was like the phantoms of Maxwell’s arms were around him as he walked, pushing him back to them so that their place was finally occupied. The words he could’ve said also brushed his brain, circling his thoughts he couldn’t get in order.

Chris knew if he’d stayed even one second more in Maxwell’s company, he’d end up saying something he would regret and they’d end up fighting just like they had done yesterday and the day before. And the weeks prior. And the months.

And all those years since Chris had grown tired of waiting for him at his birthday parties. He was thirteen when he cried for the last time because of his father’s absence and he remembered that night very well. It was the night of the accident. The night he’d lost part of the movement on his hand and what made it impossible for him to join the Army.

A sigh escaped his lungs before he could suppress it and Chris ignored the bad look of the old lady in front of him because of it. It wasn’t like he cared what she thought of him — the woman meant nothing to him anyway.

While passing through the cabins, Chris saw some interesting people and others that seemed as boring as attending a trigonometry class. He kept himself far away from the latter until he found an almost empty cabin: the only passenger was alone in it. The blond boy seemed unhappy and uncomfortable as he stared at the window, lost in his thoughts.

“Excuse me,” Chris said, catching the boy’s attention. “Is there someone seated here?”

“No,” said the boy in response, clearly apprehensive and the reason was obvious: Christian could easily identify the German accent.

This is the reason, he thought as he stared at the boy for a couple of seconds, why the cabin was empty. The boy was German. In the minds of ridiculous people, he might have been an enemy, although Christian could hardly conceive that logic.

“Right, I’m gonna sit with you then,” he said as he got over his moment of shameful hesitation. Christian pulled his suitcase along, putting it on the luggage rack above with some hardship, and sat in front of the boy, looking at him in open curiosity. “I’m Christian. You?

“Oliver,” the boy said, looking back at him with equal curiosity. “You know you can sit anywhere on the train, don’t you?

“Here seems like as good of a place as any,” Christian responded as he felt his stubbornness grow. He smiled, raising his hand to the boy in front of him. “It’s nice to meet you, Oliver.”

There was only a second of hesitation before Oliver smiled back and shook his hand.

“I can say the same, Christian.”

“Call me Chris.”

Go to Chapter 4

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.

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.

As I previously stated somewhere on this site, I would 100% go full-on Joaquin Phoenix's Joker if the love of my life called me as boring as a beige pillow