I'm Cath. I write to release all of the things I can't say. This tumblr is mainly comprised of original writings with a sprinkle of reblogs and funny gifs. Wheeee.
Even the very ending can be interpreted in two opposite ways: either Ofelia created a fairy-tale world in her head to escape real life and ultimately committed a form of suicide, or she’s simply an awakened being who saw what the masses bound to the material world cannot see and ultimately completed her process of illumination to become a true immortal. (x)
In the bleariness of three a.m.
is where I’ll find you,
in the late night haze
before I drown in the sand,
holding out my scarred hands
to catch you in your descent
from the sliver of the moon,
out of my memories,
tears and fog washing away
the stains of our past;
Tongue sliced out by your negligence,
“patriarchs” looking the other way,
looking down on us with condescension,
unbelievable and yet all too visceral.
We are the unnatural typhoon rising
from the ashes of our mothers’ abuse;
no more accepting pats on the back
from a society driven by false supremacy,
whoring ourselves out like you desire,
all fake little china doll smiles.
Our tongues will grow back, our silence
is always temporary, don’t doubt that;
our minds are attuned to know when
you try to force us back into boxes
We will never paint our skin porcelain
or halt the flood of truth raining down,
regardless of caustic threats thrown,
regardless of how you threaten to
seek and destroy us, oh we know.
We know how truly hated we are,
even by our own “brothers” and “men,”
hated for failing to assimilate and
to engage in willful ignorance of the
struggles our true brothers and sisters face,
hated for refusing to follow the directions
on the back of the “model minority” box.
We might be hated, but that just means
you consider us a danger to your
institution of contempt and complacency,
a crumbling kingdom of power politics and
archaic exchanges between our fathers.
And you wouldn’t be wrong.