they come in different forms at different times, depending on their mood. when they came as a raging mother bear, you locked your doors and turned them away. they came back the next day as an old cat, and curled up in your lap as apology. you leave food out for them, and they leave little berries at your door as thanks.
You are a writer, a story teller, somebody who can keep records. You are a learner, a researcher. You are the reason the younglings know about their ancestors. You are the reason we know who we are. Respect yourself kind person, for such power bears a great responsibility. Are you sure that your view is unbiased?
You create from spite. There is a deep resentment burning inside you that demands to be let out. You have been wronged and you can't bring yourself to forgive or forget. Your work is an act of defiance, a striving to prove others wrong and leave your mark on this world. You will declare loud and clear the injustices you've been dealt will not silently disappear, that they will demand an audience over and over again. You create to force people to acknowledge the unpleasant truths they try to ignore. Your art is fueled by a need to expose the insidious evils and hypocrisies that you've been subject to. It is a means of becoming more than just a victim, a way of reclaiming your life as your own.
you've never felt as alone as you do now, but maybe you've always felt like this. it doesn't matter if you're with a group or by yourself, the loneliness stays with you always, it's seeped into your bones. or has it? are you as alone as you think or are you clinging on to this pit inside you like it has the answers? it doesn't, know that. it's okay to feel joy again, it's okay to feel okay.
this was going to be your destiny, it’s what you’ve been raised from day one to do. it’s what the story is about. you save the day, you die trying, what matters is the middle. the ending comes last. but it didn’t, there was no ending. you’ve been at this for years, circling around the same events like a coronet on the head of a king. there’s no end in sight, you must choose to try and break free, or to make peace with fate.
You become a legend among them. Other shoppers trapped in this desolate land flock to you for protection. You have built your walls high. No employee will breach your towering barricades and reach the community inside. And happy lives are lived within your fortress. All can stay here. The elderly. Children. Though they never seem to age, they play with toys your people have gathered, eat fresh food you go out to bring back every day. You are loved, you are trusted, and you lead them well. Sometimes, safe within your inner walls, you remember the world you once knew, and you miss it. But these people need you, and you will stay to help.
An odd one, aren't you? You know your pursuit for knowledge could isolate you. In the same way Victor Frankenstein could not see his hubris for his own brilliance outshining it, you continue to reach for more and more knowledge. There's always more to know, more to puzzle yourself dry over. Do you forget that you're an animal, too? Do you forget your place in the world? But there's a beauty to it the chase, and in what you do with your reward. The joy in sharing knowledge. Of discovery. Of serving others with the results of your pursuit.
ideal redemption arc. someone who fucked up in their life gets a chance to do something good, not by fixing their relationship with those they hurt (because forgiveness might be impossible or unfair to ask at all) but by mentoring someone from a younger generation who will help them see the world with different eyes. they are always frowning and then one day they laugh and they realise they never meant to stop (also: congrats, you got op's second favorite archetype! what you need to know about me is that when i read the third book of hunger games my only concern was haymitch's alive/dead status)