Latest Posts by countthefighters - Page 2

half smoked cigarette save me it

i wish i found what i was looking for that day.

i hold resentment deep in my chest and it eats me from the inside out

i wish i wasn’t jealous of people for having things they deserve

i'm so tired of having to survive and never being afforded the privilege of living. i'm tired of people feeling bad for me. i'm tired of taking up so much goddamn space. i'm tired of my body. i'm tired of the endless grief. i'm tired of the persistent emptiness. and i'm tired of being stuck in the past.

a belief i hold with fervor is that there is no collective “best” of anything, it’s all objective.

obviously some things can be measured by their success, or efficiency, or attraction, but the idea of greatness, or first place, is completely objective. everyone will hold different things to different standards.

i say all of this because i think most people who love believe that their love interests are the most divine humans on the planet, and i don’t think they’re wrong.

i think a bunch of people can be the most divine people on the planet if they’re just considered the “most” divine by one person, because love has no rules and we’re all in our own conscience anyway.

moral of the story is that everything and everyone is uniquely significant and loved among every individual and i think that’s beautiful, and if something is “the best” to you then it just is the best. because it’s you, and your life type shit

i vividly remember the first time i listened to it. it was in sixth, or seventh grade and i was browsing youtube looking for music to fall asleep to, and i found a 3 hour loop of gymnopédie no. 1 with rain in the background and i fell asleep to it for months. when i first listened to it, it was like i was removed from my body, and put into the music. i felt so fluid, nothing existed outside of my headphones and the piano. it brought me peace in the most violent years of my life,and i cannot tell you how deeply i needed the sanctuary this song provided me. gymnopédie no. 1 will forever hold such a sacred place in my heart

anyway no one fucks with gymnopédie no. 1 like i do

anyway no one fucks with gymnopédie no. 1 like i do

tldr; i need to get the fuck out of my head

the idea of it is so liberating, quiet, and eternal; yet at the same time it is so horrifying, parlous, and uncertain.

i am a phony man, a paper tiger. sometimes i feel like i walk around with a plastic trophy of survival on display, presenting myself as some sort of phony symbol of courage, of survival. i walk around with glass skin, fractured and stained, and i know people see the cracks. i know i am breaking. you do not have to gaze upon me with such contempt. i am a sunbittern, flashing my wings, making myself look big. to protect myself? maybe, that’s what i like to tell myself, but i know it boils down to attention. it boils down to my sickening desire to be seen as something more than i really am. i make my trivial successes seem like home-runs, i make my words sound more significant than they really are, and i make my survival sound more epic than it really is. i am a liar, a con man, with my immaturity and pseudo-boy mentality. i was born a liar, and i will die one.

i guess there’s not much to tell that hasn’t already been told. i was forged in a broken household seemingly forgotten by god. i was raised by a broken man with skeletons, and bottles alike, in his closet, and a woman sipping whiskey and spitting violence between her prayers; both killed by their poisons. i used to take strikes at the hands of those who were supposed to protect me, with my body tallying the score. i still feel it, you know. that fear. i feel it all the time, like i’m just waiting for the next blow. i know this is odd, but sometimes i wish they were still around to hit me, i wish i had more proof than distant memories. i wish i had something more than a faded recollection of my mother’s venomous words and firm hand, and my father’s brutality. the only proof that’s substantial is buried in my flesh. however, i forgive my father, sometimes it seemed like he was just a scared boy in a worn man’s body. my mother on the other hand, is not so easily forgiven. her wrath and rage ran deep, and when it was fueled by the liquor, it was hard to believe a mother was supposed to love like that. but she was a girl too, alone and fatherless. i think about her as a girl and it makes it harder to believe she was so cruel.

i don’t really know the point i’m trying to drive home. i just feel so behind, and i’m constantly running out of time. every second that passes is a moment of time i’ve lost, and the overwhelming majority of them are wasted. i waste so much time smoking pot but it’s the only thing that makes me feel okay. i can’t do school, i can’t take care of myself, i can’t properly care for others, and i can’t seem to clean my room no matter how bad i want to. and i know it’s a whole mindset thing blah blah blah, i’ve heard it all before. i know i’m not getting much better at all, and i know the habits preventing me from doing so, yet it feels like i’m completely trapped in cycles. i am so tired. and this is a bunch of word vomit bullshit and i don’t think anyone will read this far. but i am just so fucking bad at being human dude. i am a complete failure. i have accomplished nothing, and i don’t know how to be alive. i don’t understand things that most people do, and i just can’t seem to do anything functionally these days.

i guess for now i won’t seek out what is beyond our existence, but the thought of doing so taps at the back of my skull to the tune of gymnopédie no. 1, a haunting constant in my mind.

i just wish i was normal so bad man

so many ideas and i’m always too tired to act on them.

l don’t know much but i do know that i’m losing

why were you put in a psych ward

I was creative and ahead of my time

from “an inevitable entry”

one day i will live in a house without slamming doors, angry men, and stinging words

one day

me when it’s Lowkey in my head

need to believe in the positive more fr

hi tumblr how we doing

i love my friends so much

feeling like people do not like me as much i as i think they do

i know if you don’t like yourself is manifests and blah blah blah

but it just kind of feels like my self hatred is a stab wound and i can’t stop the bleeding and everyone around me has to wipe up the blood and i just watch as it stains their clothes and it feels like i’m frozen

whatever i don’t know i’m sure it’s not nowhere near as deep as i’m making it

i just wish i wasn’t the one initiating almost everything in my relationships

i wish i could take all of my friends pain away

if only they knew that despite all odds there is always a glimmer of hope that shines within their souls. perhaps from stardust, or maybe just sheer beauty.

either way i hope with everything in me that we will be okay, because they deserve to be okay.

hi guys something tells me that maybe against all odds, we will be ok

✷ ✷ ✷

[ID: Digital illustration of a nude trans masculine person, cropped from thigh to shoulder. They are leaning back, holding a small dagger pointing between their legs. They have red top surgery scars, and a hairy chest and stomach. Two pale silhouettes of hands reach around the figure, as if stroking their belly and thigh. The figures are surrounded by a border of leaves and red flowers, with a star in the center overhead. There is an 8 pointed star covering the figures groin. The piece is done in a minimal color palette of black, red, and warm beiges and yellows. /. End ID]

girl you have to stop mythologizing that one really good few months

Home of the freak

Land of the gay

Happy posting on the Blr?!!??!?

I asked my boyfriend what he liked about me, because I couldn’t understand what he saw in me. He knew me at my absolute lowest, and still chose to love me. I just didn’t understand what could make him like me as more than a friend after witnessing me in that state.

And he said he didn’t know exactly what he liked about me, that he didn’t think about it too much; but he said that he knew I made him happy.

Later I was talking about how I love poetry, and I described poetry as everything worth remembering and experiencing put into words. I told him that poetry is everything we love transcribed on paper, and sometimes it’s just that simple. Sometimes poetry is just capturing the things we love, a linguistic photograph.

And after I was done, he said, “That’s how I feel” And I was happy he understood, and then he said that’s how he feels about me. That he loved me in a way that’s worth experiencing and writing about. That he just loved me for me, and I don’t need to be anything else.

And he drove home his point by saying I have an appealing face. #RIZZ Heart is full of love type shit

Love isn’t missed calls and sore wrists

Love isn’t encouraging me to deprive myself of life

Love isn’t making empty promises

Love isn’t making me feel disposable

Love is my boyfriend listening and making me feel heard even when he doesn’t know what to say

Love is my boyfriend being open to communication no matter how difficult the conversation is

Love is my boyfriend rushing to hold me when I cried about missing my mom

Love is napping in the warm Colorado sun together

And love is staying up late to play Halo and eat Pop-Tarts

Love is making me feel loved without having to ask for it

Love is so gentle when you come across the right person

I know the whole canine motif has been worn to the bone, however I have felt a lot like a mean dog lately.