I Miss My Coke Zero So Much 😩.. Why Don’t I Have Any 😿‼️what The Fucj !!!

I found peace on his words, does that make sense?

pinterest called my ass out fr. (I am not still fucked up over [read: in love with] a blonde from 9th grade) Sick asf photos though

thanks 4 tagging me @youreyesaremyfavoritecolor <33

no pressure tags— @cool-lesbian-is-here @stitchedribs @woods3115

tysm for the tag <3 @yumclaire

search “my vibe aesthetic” on pinterest & post the top results

tags: @bleachbambi @daisyrandoneisme @cellophane-rat-2 @cigarettesincalifornia @jeante13 + anyone else who wants to do it!!

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. 

Untitled

The worst part is I don't even have her face, I have his. I wish I had the kindness of her eyes. Instead, every day I wake up and the mirror is just another reminder of him. His brown eyes, his sharp angled face, and his spirit. His hands, his feet. His anger. His rage. It's all mine. All of it. Sometimes it makes me hate myself. Everyone thinks I'm his carbon copy. "Just like his father," they say. Well they don't know how much it hurts me. They don't know what he really was. They don't know the pain and bruises I carry around because of him to this day. Nobody lived the life me and my mom did. They saw the best side of him. We suffered through the worst. I can honestly say I'm glad he's gone now. And all I want is to erase his face. It was all him. And he was the sum of it all—he was the only mistake my mother made.

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 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..

when about Judas/love through a biblical lense. 

I didn’t mean for it to end this way. Sometimes  love is... betrayal. The coins. A priceless kiss. I’ll hang myself tonight after I see the blue in  your lips. He’s compelled by a higher power. Everything will be alright in the end. His master  has gotten out of scrapes a thousand times  before. His love cheats death. Did I tell you anything? Did I confess all my sins? I am so  dirty. Filthy. Unwashed. Unclean. Guilt washes  over me. Belief or distance. Ultimatums made of secrets and crucifix kisses. I mourned for you, but you did not take the time to notice me. My Christ has been stolen. I wish for a different life.  My mind. Broken and tired. It burns when he’s asleep. The rope will never break. Prophecy. 

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

Told myself I wouldn’t post before the thing I wrote for xmas, but here we are…

I think I’m in love with someone I shouldn’t know how to be. And it’s driving me fucking crazy. It’s only you. And when you’re venting at 7:32, telling me how much you just wanna die, I think I lose a part of myself. I’m listening to that band we both like, unromanticizing all the shit I used to dream about. This is your second favorite song by them. It’s my favorite cause it makes me think about you. I like your company. That’s all I can say without giving myself away. Cause if I was honest, I’d say step off the ledge. Why? Cause I fucking love you man. Maybe you don’t care (about me and/or you). Maybe you don’t even like me. But if you kill yourself, I don’t think I’ll ever really breathe in again. You’re the best friend I’ve (n)ever had. 

with tears in my eyes, I begged you to stay/you said, “hey man, I love you, but no fucking way” or (kiss your knuckles before you punch me in the face)

Sorry for professing my undying love for you. Can we go back to just being two dudes who flirt with each other in a really funny, totally one-hundred-percent platonic way? I’m sorry for telling you I thought you looked kissable tonight. When I first met you I fell hard. You’re the reason we got together and the reason we broke up. (Not really. That had more to do with being left on read for weeks.) When you don’t answer I get scared. I even started checking the obituaries by Day Four. I’ve never believed in anything as strongly as I believe you in you. This is love, and it’s bitter. It’s sour, and it’s awful, and it’s ugly, but I’ve felt it in my bones for two years now, so I know it won’t just go away. You’re the rhythm guitar in my heart. I asked you to join my band just so you’d always be there. Even if you can hardly play, you’re still my first choice. I want you with me for the rest of my life. I hope you don’t see this shit. I think I’d die. Well, this is the part where I admit I’m tired cause it’s two a.m. and I’m probably sick again. Goodnight. 

–S.S. (yours)