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thinking about marya and how when you think you've lost everything you still have something. even if that something is worms you hid in the back of a chair. her silk shirts and her youth and her love for the world and for adventure. trauma is hard and bad and it strips you of everything you were and everything you think you'll ever be and it leaves you to waste. but somewhere there are worms you left in the back of a chair. and you'll wear silk shirts again. and your friends will write your story better than you ever could. and you are that person and you always will be. and some young mech-wielding bright-eyed transfem will worship the ground you walk on.
I'm like really okay and fine I swear