I DON'T KNOW YOU

28.) save you

"ιf уσυ нανє α ℓσт σf ѕωєєтиєѕѕ αи∂ qυιякιиєѕѕ, ѕσмєσиє'ѕ gσт тσ нανє α вιт σf вιтє αgαιиѕт тнαт," -Lamorne Morris

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(2021 kami here to ask why was i so angsty in my writing lmfao)

• L U N A R •

    To me, it was weird to think about how screams could represent so many things.

   Sometimes we would scream because we were angry. Sometimes our anger was so powerful we didn't know how to convey what we felt into words. Because let's face it, when we're mad, it's hard to listen. You're hurt but it hasn't upset you in a weakening way. It's the opposite. It fuels you, blocking the ability to comprehend the appropriate and mature ways to solve things. We're fuming. It's the emotion that drives us to madness, the moments where we're screaming because we can't express just how pressed we are in the thoughts of wanting the other person to understand how we feel. The expression that brings the screams to intimidate and beat the opposing side down in hopes of dominating them to force your viewpoint on them. The influential sense of defense in which you act in frustration and incomprehensible rage to express and stretch your point across the playing board. Apathy.

    Then there's the screams that we would let out when we're crying. Those screams, the ones that burned as they traveled up our throats and out our mouths. They stung as our voices strained in a way that showed we were at the mercy of the extraordinary emotions. The screams would echo so loudly because our sobs were covering up the outside stimuli. These screams would be released when we were tired of our sobs, when our cries turned into coughs and gags, when our bodies shook because we felt as if we had no more strength to create tears. The delusion of our mentalities telling us, "If you can't cry, if you can't get people to hear your pleads, make yourself so loud they can see your pain," that kindles our vocals to release sounds we only create when in the midst of a crisis both internally and externally. The trembling howls quivering on your lips as your rivers of Sympathy.

    Onwards from those, there's those screams you let out when you don't understand. The screams you release when you're lost on a path down roads and highways with endless possibilities and the sky growing closer and closer inevitably. Like the walls of a world you once thought to be filled with endless hours of obscurities suddenly started to close in, confining you into the limited sights and views of what you've explored just so you could get there. Those screams you let out because you think no one is listening, because you want to scream to the heavens that you haven't a clue about what's next. And when you're screaming, the power radiating in your body that sends signals of distress and unease, you're just praying that someone else will hear your distant frustrations and understand on the same level. The hopes in that someone with the capacity of knowledge and experience to relate on your unsettled fields of emotions, the longing to be heard and to be rescued to a far off land where you can explore the uncharted waters knowing you cannot drown. Empathy.

And then you have Evan who screamed like a bird.

     You would think a bite from a spider would call for, yes, maybe a small shriek or a gasp of pain. But no, a scream calling for bloody murder is announced. How do you even do that? How do you go and get yourself bitten by a spider in a cold place like Canada, where might I add, was not home to many venomous spiders at all?

When Evan has screamed earlier, we thought something bad happened. But no, it was just a spider bite. Though, I guess in his defense, spider bites hurt. We had found him a little ways farther from the campsite in a patch of bushes and a log lying on the grass next to him.