𝕭𝖑𝖊𝖈𝖈𝖊𝖗𝖆𓋹

1740970111

The Bear and the Hunter

No matter how many times he was hunted or hurt,
the bear always loved the hunter.
He believed in him,
and, sadly, loved him for the hate he received.
Because the hunter hated him as much as he hated himself,
and in that, the bear saw a cruel familiarity.

No matter how many waterfalls he fell from,
he always went down the same one.
Always a friend to the other animals,
the funny one, but never the desired one.
Cute, but never perfect.
Good, but never amazing.
He would never be more than that,
and for a long time, he thought that was enough.

And when no one chose him,
in the end, he chose himself.

In the worst winter, he used himself,
just like everyone else did,
to keep warm.
And he understood that, no matter how much he wished
the hunter had pulled the trigger,
he would still fight.
Because deep down,
even wounded, even hated,
the bear doesn’t know how to be anything
other than what he is.

Imperfect, cruel, insatiable—
but chaotically perfect.

...

And when he was cornered, too weak to fight,
the bear, voice shaking, whispered:
"You have no idea how much I want to live."

The hunter, guilt in his eyes, love that never was,
burned his skin—a painful act, a wound that never heals.
He wanted the scar to be a forever reminder,
a cruel mark, a weight unbearable.

The bear loved him, hoping for redemption.
And the hunter, consumed by a twisted desire,
loved the bear in the end—
in a love dark and doomed."

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