This man is just like traumatized for life like-
He has to go into counseling for this
His family and friends and even coworkers feel alienated
“Henry we talked about this-“
“HE TOOK THE ICE CREAM WITH HIS HANDS”
“Henry that’s what he’s supposed to do-“
“I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY HE ORDERED A CONE IF HE WAS JUST GONNA TAKE THE ICE CREAM-“
“If he gave you the money that’s what he’s supposed to d-“
“A CUP IS 50 CENTS CHEAPER”
He never has healthy relationships with anyone ever again.
His life has been defined by this moment.
This poor guy
reblogging for the flawless commentary
ITS ON MY DASH AGAIN YES.
you don’t forget the face of the person who was your last hope.
Trying to do homework at your desk
Tumblr, pack your bags…
omg look how far away you would be from everyone you don’t like
“Hope, it is the only thing stronger than fear. A little hope is effective, a lot of hope is dangerous.”
We stand there, face-to-face, not meeting each other’s eyes. "You didn’t come see me in the hospital." He doesn’t answer, so finally I just say it. "Was it your bomb?"
"I don’t know. Neither does Beetee," he says. "Does it matter? You’ll always be thinking about it."
He waits for me to deny it; I want to deny it, but it’s true. Even now I can see the flash that ignites her, feel the heat of the flames. And I will never be able to separate that moment from Gale. My silence is my answer.
"That was the one thing I had going for me. Taking care of your family," he says. "Shoot straight, okay?" He touches my cheek and leaves. I want to call him back and tell him that I was wrong. That I’ll figure out a way to make peace with this. To remember the circumstances under which he created the bomb. Take into account my own inexcusable crimes. Dig up the truth about who dropped the parachutes. Prove it wasn’t the rebels. Forgive him. But since I can’t, I’ll just have to deal with the pain.