𓂅 t o b y ˚. †

sacrificial angel , dirty slut with needs 𖤐

[markiza297]

impossible challenge for slenderverse fans: be normal about actors

[bucknabottle]

jack abbot don’t know how bad i need him

[bucknabottle]

my most popular post on my sad ass priv / writing account. yall a buncha whores

[bucknabottle]

jack abbot don’t know how bad i need him

[bucknabottle]

you ever sit outside on your porch and think. the bitch that fucked me over and made me this way is fucking miserable and i’m outside. so really who is winning

[loveridden1999]

[bucknabottle]

“god loves you, but not enough to save you.”

i feel it in the wind in my hair as i stick my head out the sunroof on a backroad.

i feel it as i sit on the porch of the house i grow up and mourn the beauty around me, of which is haunted by the blood and hate of the people who surround me.

i feel it as i look to the news and see more of my brothers and sisters dead. five in a month.

i am surrounded by beauty i cannot appreciate, because my mourning is too heavy. it is too thick.

even with the doe jumping through the wheat field sewn by high school bully’s great grandfathers.

even with the birds singing as the breeze tries to wash me clean again.

even with the honeysuckle smell filling my lungs.

i mourn my people.

i mourn my home.

[bucknabottle]

i am soft , gentle.

i have felt the sharp pierce of arrows , i have been caressed by the bullets of hunters. it was expected. it was what i deserved.

to them , i was not the serene creature you say i am. to them , i am a trophy. they will have me gutted and stuffed before the morning comes.

you claimed to be different.

your distaste for what i am was not their steel , cold end. it was not planned with gun sights or targets in my shape.

you were the swift end of a car coming too fast , too hard. something burning too bright , barreling to fast to think about any fragile thing in your way.

it was real. it was unexpected. and even though i knew the crash was to come , my moment you gave me in the air was the freest i’ve ever felt.

[bucknabottle]

Religion/Small town trauma

when i was small, i sang in the church choir.

i remember staring up at the pretty stained glass, like the songs i sang were for me and the beautiful man depicted before me. one who would love me despite my sins.

but back then, i thought sins were like the worm i left to dry out on the sidewalk. the ladybugs i buried on the playground.

i didn’t know sins could be inflicted by the people you love, who you love.

i haven’t been in the Church since it happened, now that i think about it. when the people i loved turned me into a sinful little thing. (even though sinning was as easy as what happened in a sleepover)

now that i’m back home, nothing more than a little country mouse, God’s eyes don’t feel kind anymore. they feel like the hawk that watches me as i try my best to survive in a world that has evolved to forget about me.

i think about the little boy standing in the pew, singing because he wanted to be loved by someone who was promised to love him no matter what, and i wish i could tell him that God wont protect him from what’s to come.