val

19 | they/he

[freezerbrideangel]

butchmaxxing right now

[freezerbrideangel]

hi if you see this I died in the middle of the texas wilderness

[freezerbrideangel]

You gave me the login to your account and you swore that it was just because. I miss you. I can't write like you could and I feel like I'm not doing enough by you. There are so many things I just wanted to say to you but I never got a chance to. You cried when this band didn't play this song when we went to go see them and you cried at all of the mistakes you made and I wish I could've told you one more time that things would be ok. I should've seen it sooner. You had this look in your eyes that just felt so done when you told me that you wanted to go explore the northwest.

You slipped away from me and everyone else so easily and I keep looking for you everywhere. I miss you, angel. You would've hated me writing something on here but I somehow think that you'll be able to see it. My sweet Valentine.

We'll see each-other again someday. I'll make sure to keep bringing you your favorite flowers when I visit you. I love you so much. I hope wherever you are you're resting peacefully.

[freezerbrideangel]

hi if you see this I died in the middle of the texas wilderness

[matyleen]

• Feel the Pull •

[reusingcels]

Oh Laura Palmer you beautiful soul you

[freezerbrideangel]

i am the they/he southern butch with a gun you should be scared about, anyway

[freezerbrideangel]

i thought i was supposed to be the nutjob not anon over here telling me to kms im cryinf

[deertattoo]

[freezerbrideangel]

killlll yourselfffffff you’re a horrible person

id answer with something stupid but unfortunately i cant really think of anything right now besides "oh you want me so bad it makes you look stupid" yet again i dont know who this is so im lowkey just sitting here laughing at my own joke

[ratviolnist]

three days since the separation

[freezerbrideangel]

DONT be like me and forget to take your second dose of meds. to death threat anon i hope you find peace and stability in your life cause sending death threats is not awesome sauce 💔

[freezerbrideangel]

kill yourself

i hope you're happy

[greelin]

“is the wanting to be killed like a sexual thing for you” No. but also yes

[greelin]

who said that

[halincandenza420]

ethel cain is for the girlies with a borderline unhealthy philosophical and aesthetic fascination with sex

[freezerbrideangel]

"Did it at least feel good? When you thought I wasn't looking?"

Day one is quiet. Shooting up from bed in a cold sweat the same way I did isn't very nice, is it? You'll beg for it to end immediately after. Do you remember when I told you that my dreams were hurting me? Do you wake up now with that hurt at your chest and the shortness of your breath that picks you apart even if you don't want it to be doing that? I'll hear your breath stutter but all I can do is place a hand on your shoulder and go "No, you chose this."

"Did it at least feel rewarding? Grabbing the sword and displaying it in your bedroom like I was a trophy to be fawned over?"

You'll brag to your friends and family that the sword belonged to someone that you loved. You'll hold the handle and think that you're immune to it because my body was buried six feet underground and covered by the moss you knew I hated. You'll insist that you miss me, and yet, you wouldn't even remember the day I died. My eye that's in your jar will witness you shatter when you least expect it; did you think you could get away with this so easily?

My fingernails will rake over your jawline like I once did before when we lay in the flower fields and told each-other that everything would be okay. You'll swat them away and the tears that run down my face will leave scars on your shoulders from how much they burn. You'll look up at me one last time with my toothy smile and hair that swore to protect you in times of peril. I'll see you still have my prayer card framed on your nightstand like I'll protect you, but you were wrong.

People will ask about the way I took the sword to my neck in order to protect you.

And the truth, she will be an accomplice in your death.

And day by day, you'll wish that maybe, I shouldn't have been a saint. My arms and my figure shouldn't have been placed in the church at the spot where sunset will hit my portrait and cast down my love all over. You'll beg not to feel the burn when my closed eye and the sword held in my glass hands fall upon you, their light swearing revenge and making you sweat like it's an omen that your time will soon be up. You'll beg for the pastor to get rid of my portrait. You'll taint my scriptures and beg everyone else to never listen. You'll go outside and burn my photo the next time you realize that it was your choice.

The ashes will stain your heart, just like how you stained mine.

And until then, I will never let you go.

[freezerbrideangel]

it's hard trying not to let it all crumble over something that was technically my doing. but unfortunately, who am i if not someone who just wants answers? this is something stupid. utterly harmful. you shouldn't listen to the cries of an already sick woman.

[freezerbrideangel]

were you lying? was i not enough? was i too ill, too sick, too suffocating for you? just a placeholder? i'll get laughed at. i'm already sick and all of this will make me sicker only if i let it. i fear it is time to forget for good.

[freezerbrideangel]

"Did it at least feel good? When you thought I wasn't looking?"

Day one is quiet. Shooting up from bed in a cold sweat the same way I did isn't very nice, is it? You'll beg for it to end immediately after. Do you remember when I told you that my dreams were hurting me? Do you wake up now with that hurt at your chest and the shortness of your breath that picks you apart even if you don't want it to be doing that? I'll hear your breath stutter but all I can do is place a hand on your shoulder and go "No, you chose this."

"Did it at least feel rewarding? Grabbing the sword and displaying it in your bedroom like I was a trophy to be fawned over?"

You'll brag to your friends and family that the sword belonged to someone that you loved. You'll hold the handle and think that you're immune to it because my body was buried six feet underground and covered by the moss you knew I hated. You'll insist that you miss me, and yet, you wouldn't even remember the day I died. My eye that's in your jar will witness you shatter when you least expect it; did you think you could get away with this so easily?

My fingernails will rake over your jawline like I once did before when we lay in the flower fields and told each-other that everything would be okay. You'll swat them away and the tears that run down my face will leave scars on your shoulders from how much they burn. You'll look up at me one last time with my toothy smile and hair that swore to protect you in times of peril. I'll see you still have my prayer card framed on your nightstand like I'll protect you, but you were wrong.

People will ask about the way I took the sword to my neck in order to protect you.

And the truth, she will be an accomplice in your death.

And day by day, you'll wish that maybe, I shouldn't have been a saint. My arms and my figure shouldn't have been placed in the church at the spot where sunset will hit my portrait and cast down my love all over. You'll beg not to feel the burn when my closed eye and the sword held in my glass hands fall upon you, their light swearing revenge and making you sweat like it's an omen that your time will soon be up. You'll beg for the pastor to get rid of my portrait. You'll taint my scriptures and beg everyone else to never listen. You'll go outside and burn my photo the next time you realize that it was your choice.

The ashes will stain your heart, just like how you stained mine.

And until then, I will never let you go.

[freezerbrideangel]

it's hard trying not to let it all crumble over something that was technically my doing. but unfortunately, who am i if not someone who just wants answers? this is something stupid. utterly harmful. you shouldn't listen to the cries of an already sick woman.

[freezerbrideangel]

"Did it at least feel good? When you thought I wasn't looking?"

Day one is quiet. Shooting up from bed in a cold sweat the same way I did isn't very nice, is it? You'll beg for it to end immediately after. Do you remember when I told you that my dreams were hurting me? Do you wake up now with that hurt at your chest and the shortness of your breath that picks you apart even if you don't want it to be doing that? I'll hear your breath stutter but all I can do is place a hand on your shoulder and go "No, you chose this."

"Did it at least feel rewarding? Grabbing the sword and displaying it in your bedroom like I was a trophy to be fawned over?"

You'll brag to your friends and family that the sword belonged to someone that you loved. You'll hold the handle and think that you're immune to it because my body was buried six feet underground and covered by the moss you knew I hated. You'll insist that you miss me, and yet, you wouldn't even remember the day I died. My eye that's in your jar will witness you shatter when you least expect it; did you think you could get away with this so easily?

My fingernails will rake over your jawline like I once did before when we lay in the flower fields and told each-other that everything would be okay. You'll swat them away and the tears that run down my face will leave scars on your shoulders from how much they burn. You'll look up at me one last time with my toothy smile and hair that swore to protect you in times of peril. I'll see you still have my prayer card framed on your nightstand like I'll protect you, but you were wrong.

People will ask about the way I took the sword to my neck in order to protect you.

And the truth, she will be an accomplice in your death.

And day by day, you'll wish that maybe, I shouldn't have been a saint. My arms and my figure shouldn't have been placed in the church at the spot where sunset will hit my portrait and cast down my love all over. You'll beg not to feel the burn when my closed eye and the sword held in my glass hands fall upon you, their light swearing revenge and making you sweat like it's an omen that your time will soon be up. You'll beg for the pastor to get rid of my portrait. You'll taint my scriptures and beg everyone else to never listen. You'll go outside and burn my photo the next time you realize that it was your choice.

The ashes will stain your heart, just like how you stained mine.

And until then, I will never let you go.