Three Points & Top Of The Group We Love To See It 💙

grief is a funny thing. It hits you at the most unexpected of times. its soul shattering and steals your breath in an instance.

the last few weeks I’ve been waiting for a call that’s never coming. for my phone screen to light up with a message that the logical part of me knows is never going to arrive.

I’ve spent 2 years grieving and coming to terms with my grandmother’s death. as every occasion passes, I’ve struggled with the fact that I’ll never hear her voice again.

my grandfather, bless him, was like a cat with 9 lives. he probably should’ve died in a freak accident 20 years ago, but he always made it through. I always thought out of the two of them, he’d be the first to go, as dark as it sounds logically, it seemed like the way it would be. he was riddled with health problems and his luck for escaping death surely had to catch up to him, so although it seems vulgar to think that he’d be the first to go, logistically it made sense. but he wasn’t.

he survived so much, that a part of me thought he’d always be there, because he always made it through. two years since my grans death, and he made sure that we knew how much they both loved us. he called every occasion and sent messages to check up on us, making up for two people. he was good like that, a bit of a hippie and believed in the funniest things, but he was fun to talk to. I miss our chats.

two days after his death, in the midst of a panic attack, I hastily scrolled through my phone, desperate to find anything with their voices, just to know that I could hear them. that I had this part of them I could keep. I didn’t even finish the voice notes when I eventually found them later that day. I screamed and I cried and I sobbed ugly begging for it to be some sort of sick prank from the universe. I don’t think I’ll ever come to terms with it. To think of them in the past tense is something I’ve yet to grasp.

grief has been embedded in my soul since I was born, and it’s never left.

I want them back. It’s not fair. I don’t deserve to know pain this deep and grief this vast at such a young age.

It keeps me up most nights how I never got to say goodbye. did they know I loved them? did they know how much they meant to me? I hope they do, they did. I don’t think I’ll ever know peace or the comfort they gave me.

football has been such a big part of my life, for as long as I can remember.

so many people around me don’t understand the love I have for the sport, but they’ll never truly understand how vital it has been to me. my team, my club, to me its home.

I’ve been going to Stamford bridge since I was a kid, I know the stadium as well as I know my childhood home. over the years, kingsmeadow has become home too.

the sport, this club, it gives me something to believe in. I mean, isn’t that what most people want anyways? something they can wholeheartedly believe in. sport, for so many people, give them that belief.

there’s something safe and easy about standing in a crowd with thousands of fans just like you, all in that one moment, cheering on your team. it’s a weird feeling, one I can’t describe but try to chase. the pure joy, the comfort, the delight and rush as you watch goals be conceded or scored, the rush you get of excitement, or the dread that follows a hard loss. the unwavering determination that you will come back from this.

telling myself we will get garvez and buddie canon because if we don’t I might go insane

Catching up on criminal minds evolution while waiting for 911 s8 is a special kind of torture when I ship both garvez and buddie

If I had a nickel for everytime i shipped the blonde sunshine character (who’s also traumatised and has adhd) with their close friend (who is Latino and who has a heart of gold and big brown cow eyes) and who they hated at first because they’re the new guy but then grew to love shortly after except now they’re not with them and are instead in a love triangle with a white man who’s name starts with T then I’d have two nickels- which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice

knowing that every big milestone of my life is tainted by grief for everyone around me, and guilt on my end about the fact that there should’ve been two of us going through it together. I feel guilty for surviving, even though it’s not my fault, and it was a matter of circumstances. It’s weird knowing I’m grieving a half of me, a person I never got to meet and grow up with.

I love the trend of mlm teen shows being cute romances, heartfelt moments, dealing with school etc. And then the wlw teen shows are like What if you're all trapped in the wilderness and forced to survive and you come up with intricate rituals and you can't live with or without each other and you're suffering and constantly facing death and...

I see you in my dreams.

Always in my dreams.

Behind every gay person there is a gayer more evil gay person. Sometimes even two.

We’ll be kicking off the final leg of The Eras Tour this week, which is hard to comprehend. This tour has been the most wondrous experience and I knew I wanted to commemorate the memories we made together in a special way. Well, two ways actually. Excited to announce that The Official Eras Tour Book, filled with my own personal reflections, never-before-seen behind the scenes photos, all the magical memories you guys brought every single night AND …. The Tortured Poets Department: The Anthology on vinyl and CD will all be available for the first time ever only at Target starting Nov 29th. 🤍

International info coming soon!

I fear I might not recover from that episode. “I’m your first but I won’t be your last”?!?!?

BUCKTOMMY BONES?!! (We fucking cheered)

MADNEY PREGNANT

THE LAST SCENE WITH BUCK AND EDDIE?!?

we’re so fucking back baby