Xsuspencexkillsx - S.S.

i’m in a winter mood, (i’m) dreamin’ of spring now

i miss sitting in the back of a pickup truck with my best friend. playing in the mud and making swords out of sticks. boys will be boys (until one of them’s a queer). We were like family until i came out was outed. if you read this i think you’d know who you are. cause you said i was your only friend and then spat in my face the next day. that awful day. all i wanted was for things to stay the same. all i want is my childhood back. please. my lips are bloody and my knuckles are bruised. i’m the same person i was back then, so why the hell don’t i mean the same thing i used to mean to you?

Shout out to everyone who’s ever perpetuated the “gay men are predatory” stereotype!! <3 You’re the reason I’m terrified to even make eye contact with another man and why I feel ashamed anytime I even think a guy is slightly good-looking. Congratulations on finally reaching peak Shit Person Status! Motherfucker. :D :D :D

‘If you’re the only one who knows the truth, only you can hurt yourself’

The city is endless and it is dark.  When there’s nowhere left for me to run,  the city holds me in its arms.  All I’ve ever asked of it was for a ‘’safe place’’ to fall apart. Drowning in the reservoir,  if I go too deep into my mind.  An optical illusion you can only see  if you’re on the inside (---in on the joke.) Ha ha ha. Laughing at me, a thousand smiling faces— a thousand more memories. There’s something hiding in the shadows,  in a corner.  In my closet,  behind a shelf.  This is why  I keep all the mirrors locked up. It can't hurt you if its not really there Scratch it out, scratch it out, scratch it— The record skips again, passing me over  for the eight thousand, six hundred, and forty ninth time. All I want is.. a second chance? A do over–again and again, Like an infinite loop inside my messed up head. ‘’Don't you think you'd be better off like the living dead?’’ Paranoia follows in my footsteps, A stalker in the night. He can never hope to catch up to me. I live in his house in the daylight. When the sun sets I sleep in the crowded streets. Begging for scraps of meat. Won't you grant me a sweet relief? I promise I’ll stay by your side,  day and night.  Like the hound that haunts you/Is this  what it feels like to know  Nobody wants you?

Fuck my life. Nothing compares to the feeling of devastation that hit me when I woke up this morning. I can’t believe it. I won’t. The next four years are going to be fucking awful. How did this happen? I actually don’t know what I’m going to do now. I almost cried earlier. I couldn’t shower. I could barely eat. I can hardly process this. I just can’t. I can’t do this. 

buried so deep even god won’t find me

Vivienne Westwood

stuff about me

last song-  cute without the e by taking back sunday 

favorite color- I like purple and black 

last book- loki agent of Asgard comics. not really a book but it’s the last thing I read

last movie- probably smth science fiction related? Or marvel I don’t remember 

last tv show- Good Omens <3 <3 <3 I’m absolutely obsessed with this show now

sweet/spicy/savory- why not all three?

relationship status- I’m in one. It’s not going well and that’s not rlly either of our faults but it still sucks right now

last thing i googled- will and grace cast

current obsession- ^ Good omens/aziracrow. I love them. I need season three like yesterday

looking forward to- getting over this cold so I can go back outside, see my friends, and just do stuff ig

thanks fr tagging me @youreyesaremyfavoritecolor this was fun :D

10.6.24

Going to my little cousin’s basketball game. Driving by an old, painfully Southern Baptist church with tall grass. Eating burgers and drinking milkshakes with the family (something all American.) (Same place, different name.) I don’t remember the town I was born in. Did I grow up in bumfuck nowhere or suburbia? It’s all dizzy. Like a sick kind of merry go round. It’ll never end, I think. Some days. Is it true? Was anything? I have memories that aren’t mine and nightmares that are. 

The body of Christ as a symbol of self-punishment. (or, stigmata)

I’m a seven year old boy’s little green toy soldier, crushed and broken under the weight of his father’s work boots. I’ve fought in a thousand wars. I flinch at the sound of rough hands. God has forsaken me, even in my dying breath. Maybe my prayers never work, not because he can’t hear me, but because he chooses not to. Because he hates what I am. He despises me, yet I amuse him. I am The Divine’s favorite plaything. I’m made of duct tape and scars. It’s a vicious cycle of patching myself up, and falling apart. Nobody hears me beg. Nobody listens to my pleas. I cry out once for every punishing lash of the belt.

I’m gonna be honest, chief, that was the most punk thing I’ve seen from an artist in a long time