Offensively Me @metalandmuscles - Tumblr Blog

“To be touched - truly touched - that’s what I’m looking for. To unfold at a brush of skin like a rare flower blooming. To be surfaced at the curl of fingertips around my soul. I am so tired of shallow fun. I want my heart to shudder at a touch, to whisper, “here, here, it’s all yours.”

— Beau Taplin

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The story begins where words end

I do not feel as others do. I translate emotion into language, dissect it under a quiet white light, as though it were a question that refuses its own answer.

I stand at the edge of life, not within it— listening to its rehearsals: truths trained to survive, lies polished into resemblance, existence performing itself.

Love, for me, is not softness, but a place built inside another’s ribs with no intention of leaving.

Attachment is not comfort, but necessity. Every goodbye carries the weight of mourning, every distance expands beyond measure.

I do not cast out anger; it turns inward, becoming smoke without fire. Some become flame— I become what remains after it.

My wars are silent, fought where thought drowns before it speaks, and the enemy wears my own reflection.

I mistake longing for destiny, absence for love, and numbness for peace.