‘‘Get Busy Living (In The Purgatory Of Your Real Life)’’

I told you my deathbed secrets. Cause nobody else’s ever made me feel so alive. I love you.

–s.s.

I’m the type of guy to gaslight myself into being straight . I know this because unfortunately I’ve done it 7301965 times and it hasn’t worked any of them..

I miss my Coke Zero so much 😩.. why don’t I have any 😿‼️what the fucj !!!

will people PLEASE stop arguing with me (in real life) and trying to convince me I am gay?? I pulled a Misha Collins. I walked it back. I officially became the only man in Texas ever to come out as straight. So fucking believe me and leave me alone about it. I’m so repressed even if I was into men, I wouldn’t tell you!

also I realize ppl are gonna see this and argue with me about it, but uh, I’m just irritated rn…

Courtney Love is actually super hot, you’re all just wrong btw

hope this helps!! 🩷🩷🩷

Demolition Man

I hate him.

(the chokehold this album has on me is crazy, man)

So maybe I’m not actually gay lmao. there’s this pretty blonde girl and yeah.. 🤷‍♂️ idk, wild shit

tree of grackles

For My Father

For you, my Father, if you came back, I would leave something cooking on the stove. I’d let the smell fill the house so it’d be like you were here, making dinner while I watched cartoons. I would take the sweaty, stinky, athletic clothes you used to wear running and leave them in annoying places so Mom would lecture you the way she always did. It would be like you never left. We would still be a family. 

When you come home, I would buy the things you liked to eat. I’d put things on our table for you, like the odd-smelling ‘’healthy’’ foods, the gluten free bread that always tasted like sand, and the fig newtons that always made me think of you. I would hear the sound of you opening the door again. Coming home from work, you always greeted us with a smile, even though sometimes, even as a child, I could tell it wasn't real.

I’d leave your blue and green, size thirteen running shoes by the door for you. You could put them on and go for a run around the neighborhood like you used to. Then you’d come back home and spend the evening with us. We would sit and talk, just to be father and son again. I’d set aside everything you ever did if it meant I could get closure one last time. You’d tell me and mom that you always loved us, and all the bad things never mattered. I’d look at your crow’s feet, and see my own eyes staring back at me. I’d see myself in you, an older version of me, but still one in the same. Those same brown eyes.

When you died, I was young enough that I still called you Daddy. Now the memories are distant like you were and I call you ‘my Father’, but if you came back, I’d call you Dad, for old times sake. I’d let you hug me, and we could pretend we were a perfect, happy family. God knows we were far from it, but nobody ever died trying (except maybe you.) 

I’ll tell you who I am now, what my life is like. I hope you’ll say you were proud of me. If you don’t, that’s okay. I’ve managed this long without you. I think I can manage the rest of my life. I’m resilient. I get that from you. So, when the day is done, you’ll go back into the ground you came from, and I’ll be okay. After all, I’m still your son, no matter how much I wish I wasn’t some of these days. Just know that you can rest now. It will all be okay. Goodnight, Dad.

By Sibil George photography