#broknlungs

💀 for what my muse would say upon hearing about your muse’s death.

               The world in which they lived was not for the kind of heart. It was not for those who allowed themselves to be who they are no matter how scared and vulnerable that might be. A feeling of his stomach turning and his face reddening was an uncommon thing for Noah. Death had become such a normality in today’s society the he had built up a wall that kept the sadness out for those around him. Of course, there were a few exceptions in which Noah made himself vulnerable enough to feel. Helena ( her full name had never been disclosed ) was an example of this. She was kind and soft and Noah liked that about her. Most people these days weren’t like that so she stuck out like a sore thumb. That is why when her death came to surface, Noah felt his heart drop way below his stomach. Knotted up emotions and queasy feelings resurfaced and he could feel an immense amount of pain hitting him with the velocity of a train. As he looked at the person who had told him, he envisioned a memory of her when the two had first met. The girl was far more scared than the usual and the way she begged Noah not to touch her made his heart melt. He hadn’t known her for long but her spirit and affect that she had in this world greatly impacted him. The only words that he could muster up were “Damn,” and even with that, it didn’t seem like enough. For him, finding the words to string together had never been such a difficult task. No locutions or remarks would ever be able to phrase the amount of pain he was feeling for the girl so he didn’t even try. He didn’t bother to speak more than he already had because if he did, that wouldn’t be enough.

💒 for the toast my muse would give at your muse’s wedding.

               The shaking of hands and smiles were exchanged with a common currency in which everyone felt. Even if it was just for a day, there was a happy disposition that seemed to fill the air surrounding the little church. It was run down and dusty but that didn’t stop anyone from treating it as if it were brand new. Traditions like these were thought to be extinct and for most people, they were worthless. Moments in time that seemed to pause were a thing of the past and no one had ever bothered to revive them. Long since Noah had attended one of these events, but nonetheless, he was ecstatic. For just one day, everyone had traded in their drab clothing for neat and proper attire that had been scavenged from each and every house in Cheyenne. With time, Helena and Noah had formed a sort of bond. It wasn’t traditional in the sense where they were warm and fuzzy with each other, but rather one where they had the ability to just sit and be there with one another. There was no need for extravagant adventures or alluring topics to chit chat over. Just the simple presence of one another was enough. The option was given to Noah only a few days prior but he was never one to deny anyone from anything. He was kind and warm and he had secretly yearned to be asked to give a toast. As his turn approached, Noah stood up. He was never one to get nervous with public speaking so he knew that it would be a relatively easy task. He gave a warm smile to Helena before he spoke. “So, when I first met her, she was a quiet little thing. Well, she still is but needless to say, I have seen her come out of her shell little by little and I am proud of her for that. I’m proud of her for surviving for as long as she has and I can’t wait for her and her new husband to grow together and create a life with each other. May everyday you have from here on out be shared with the key fact that you are no longer alone. I know that you two will be happy with each other and I’m happy to see this relationship grow and blossom.” 

📨 for a text my muse would send to yours.