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Latest Posts by applesinterest

Wish I was a boy

Maybe this is my best

walking on pain. kodachrome.

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If you'd like, check my other works here:

Les deux orphelines vampires (Jean Rollin, 1997)

Pea Soupy Fog on St. Patrick's Day. 6:50 to 7:05 am. 51° F, with light rain. March 17, 2025. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT (@dkct25)

Law Takes Precedence Over Might. 1873. School of Henri Lehmann German/French 1814-1882. oil/canvas.   http://hadrian6.tumblr.com

Television is not the truth. Television’s a god-damned amusement park. Television is a circus, a carnival, a traveling troupe of acrobats, storytellers, dancers, singers, jugglers, sideshow freaks, lion tamers, and football players. We’re in the boredom-killing business. So if you want the Truth, go to God! Go to your gurus. Go to yourselves! Because that’s the only place you’re ever gonna find any real truth. But, man, you’re never gonna get any truth from us. We’ll tell you anything you wanna hear. We lie like hell... And no matter how much trouble the hero is in, don’t worry. Just look at your watch. At the end of the hour, he’s gonna win. We’ll tell you any shit you want to hear.

We deal in illusions, man. None of it is true! But you people sit there day after day, night after night, all ages, colors, creeds. We’re all you know. You’re beginning to believe the illusions we’re spinning here. You’re beginning to think that the tube is reality and that your own lives are unreal. You do whatever the tube tells you. You dress like the tube, you eat like the tube, you raise your children like the tube. You even think like the tube. This is mass madness. You maniacs. In God’s name, you people are the real thing. We are the illusion. So turn off your television sets. Turn them off now. Turn them off right now. Turn them off and leave them off. Turn them off right in the middle of this sentence I am speaking to you now. Turn them off!

– Network (1976)

there should be punishment to those that robbed me of my youth. i cannot shake the feeling that i deserved far better

i hate what you have made me into

resentment is filled within me to the brim. i was born into a family that hates themselves, now i am expected to bare the burden of healing or else all my pain means nothing. or else i will become my parents in my own childrens lives.

i hate that i was never given the opportunity to be unharmed, i wish my story wasnt so hard on my fragile soul, i wish i had no substance or empathy, i wish i was simple...

uncomplicated and obvious.

John Ogilby, The Fables of Aesop, 1665

you are eating me

your presence was never acknowledged,

at least i never really cared

you depicted me as an angel

gave me flowers and sweets

regardless of my public labels

you still choose me

but i never cared

until i learned that you were gone

the guilt i was now forced to bare

left me alone in desperate despair

you light was only shone

when i gathered in unknown

reminiscence comes in waves

wishing to reciprocate what you gave

sorry i could not care

now you are eating me

the page

pushed to the margins

abandoned with blue strips

forced against red lines that corner me

once white, now scribbled on carelessly

in deep black ink that smudges me

dents through all of me

find me a way to erase

to start again and hope to be apprepiated

that i can be the writer and not the page

dont look back in anger

Don’t look back in anger they say, but I’ll look back in rage. I can never let things go without a fight, you can say I beat a dead horse until it’s back to life. Knowing deep down I can’t go back no matter how hard I fight fuels me with an indescribable amount of fury, bashing the door psychotically pleading to let me go back in time.

In the moment it’s euphoric, it feels like forever swearing that change will never happen to me things will stay the same forever. Even when I know there’s a deadline. Even when I know there’s a return flight. 

Don’t look back in anger, can I look back in delusion? Live with my eyes closed so I can pretend nothing has changed, just live inside my memory. My neck is so tired from looking back in hindsight, please let this door open, please let me go back. How can I not be angry when I’m haunted by ghosts of people that are still alive, there’s a cinema behind my eyes replaying their faces, replaying my memories. 

Time you are a cruel, cruel person for never allowing us to go back, I always find myself sobbing at your feet like a toddler. But you’re not a mother and you won’t comfort me. So the ache sits in my stomach, I’m so angry. 

Im back after a break but I missed you guys </3

God I hate her

Please, may she be the end of me.

I don’t want it any other way

It starts as a harmless poke to my shoulder. Never a serious matter for when I turn to question you, you respond with a bright smile and remind me that it is all friendly.

Your fingerprint begins to stain my shoulders and I turn to inquire your motivations. Quickly I am shut it down cause it’s nothing serious, just a nudge.

Times pass and the skin that you torment is bruising, the pain pulsates although out my body.

Your hand is tainted crimson with my ooze but still you address me with a smile, after all it’s just a nudge.

You burry your way through my skin and uncover the most fragile parts of my being. The foundation that I am built on is disrupted by your omnipotent presence that chips away at me.

I garner up the courage to question your antics as my bones begin to splinter.

But there is no body to restore me, I am spoilt beyond recovery.

i’ll protect you from all the things i’ve seen

It starts as a harmless poke to my shoulder. Never a serious matter for when I turn to question you, you respond with a bright smile and remind me that it is all friendly.

Your fingerprint begins to stain my shoulders and I turn to inquire your motivations. Quickly I am shut it down cause it’s nothing serious, just a nudge.

Times pass and the skin that you torment is bruising, the pain pulsates although out my body.

Your hand is tainted crimson with my ooze but still you address me with a smile, after all it’s just a nudge.

You burry your way through my skin and uncover the most fragile parts of my being. The foundation that I am built on is disrupted by your omnipotent presence that chips away at me.

I garner up the courage to question your antics as my bones begin to splinter.

But there is no body to restore me, I am spoilt beyond recovery.

𝕋𝕨𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥

Robert Pattinson as ᴇᴅᴡᴀʀᴅ ᴄᴜʟʟᴇɴ × Kristen Stewart as ʙᴇʟʟᴀ ꜱᴡᴀɴ (dir. Catherine Hardwicke • 2008)

Just as he is dead to me, i am to him. His stubbornness has buried our love.

She’s almost gone.

Liberated from a house that has tortured her for two decades.

Still she remains trapped in her habits, for it has always been so easy to pin it on circumstance.

An adamant refusal to acknowledge that the issue (and solution) resides within.

This will surely be a Brutal recognition

That gets me thinking about my approaching death. Death - the birth of my end. A begining to an end.

I have romantised my death so much so that I fantasise about it at times. It comforts me that one day all of this noise and music will stop. That i will be forgotten and i will not even remember that.

But i am impatient for this destiny to forth, i want it now. If i were to complete my final act and have my beauty froze. To shorten this life i know i have lived enough.

I am certain of this death and often anticipate my end. Surviving everyday has become so tiring.

Lord if u be, grant me this wish.

End me.

Im tired

And scared

(Typos ik)

Jane O. Wayne // Kate Jacobs

Fyodor Dostoyevsky // Alanis Morissette

Why it will never be me

I think one of the hardest relisations is that i will never be anyones favourite. Ive learned to let go of all of my crushes simply because they will always be overwooed by the next girl. It isnt even a case of me being hideous but rather how odd i am. I dont listen to their music, i dont have a alcohol problem ( halfjoke :/) and am more of a “soul crushing devotion” person.

Media is always teaching us to be ourselves and to be authentic but the moment one embodies themselves it falls into categories of pick mes or flat out annoying. Its just awful.

I wish i could be likeable and relatable but everything i do is labeled as weird… i would rather be uninteresting.