#tcpshelf

symbol meme // accepting // @tcpshelf

▲ — Share a blanket with my muse! 

send me 📝 and i’ll introduce you to one of my ocs 

         there was a memorial outside the supermarket today.  mourners had gathered around to grieve for the loss of a child, its life claimed by a driver going much too fast.  Alyssa could see a certain distance in the parents’ eyes, a type of painful longing that she’d seen ( and often still saw ) reflected in her own tired eyes whenever she braved a glimpse in the mirror.           her heart strained within her chest, stomach twisting and curling painfully as she stared at the memorial, the framed picture standing dead center amidst the flowers and other offerings.  she could still recall the pain she’d felt as her own daughter’s warm and trembling body had slowly bled out, cooled and eventually fallen limp in her arms.  a kind and energetic child, once full of life, had been torn away from the world without so much as a warning… and she’d been to blame.          she could recall the endless tears, the hastily-murmured pleas, the denial, the drinking – and this child, just like Sarah, had been taken much too early, leaving their parents to grieve and cope as best they could after the brightest light in their lives had been extinguished.   as much as she longed to run away, to return to the ‘comfort’ of her gloomy and lonely home, something kept her tethered to this particular spot, distantly attending a service for a child she didn’t know.          it was only after the crowd dispersed that Alyssa saw her – a pale, faintly smiling apparition seemingly unnoticed by the teary-eyed masses that were slowly clambering back into their cars.  she could, at the very least, know that this child would move on knowing that there were people who cared for and would miss her now that she was gone.  they could pass on peacefully.         if only she could say the same for her own.