All that blood wasn't beautiful

previously it-was-just-red

[hbmmaster]

once again participating in No December November, where the challenge is to abstain from december for the entire month of november

[shadowed-yet-vibrant]

I love having friends who reject diet culture. I love going out when everyone buys food and drinks that they enjoy. I love people who will pipe up and suggest we stop for a snack or grab a meal. I love ordering what I want and no one making comments other than how good it looks (and maybe asking to steal a bite off my plate). I love revelling in how full we are after a good meal and taking a break to appreciate how fortunate we are. I love sharing snack from our bags with one another. I love enjoying the pleasure of food and drinks and good company.

[funstyle]

im really in a bad place i hope the sun doesnt start setting crazy early at like 4pm. i said i hope the sun doesnt set early at like 4pm that would be bad for me

[poet-hunter]

I'm learning to love from you.

[ahotknife]

where’s that article by james frankie thomas where he says like “prior to my transition there was only one kind of sex i wanted to have. and i thought i could never have it” because i am about to blow these people’s minds

[ahotknife]

i found it 😌 the article was published on Slate and here’s JF’s commentary on it

[louisinart-like-cuisinart]

Anyway if you see this you have to reblog and tag with a delight from ur day -- even the littlest thing counts

[poet-hunter]

I mean. One day I need to be broken by something else.

Yes I'm a mentally ill adult in a pandemic but I'm also just...a mentally ill adult. And for that matter, just an adult. I have to cry about something other than the plague one of these days. So much more has happened in the past three years. Things that might not have happened if it weren't for the plague, things that would have happened if it weren't for the plague, things that would've happened whether the plague happened or not.

I still got older. Got medicated. Made a lot of wild decisions that might have been tied to my medicated state. I still made and lost friends and had tough ass conversations and met people that I wish I never had.

I'm zipping head first through half baked memories of city rails and exploration and feeling my body shrink while my heart grew. I just hope I don't forget about who I've been-what I need to heal from-when the plague is finally over.

[poet-hunter]

Close the door. Please. I know you said that I could trust you, and I want to, God, I want to. But baby lies are bricks and I’ve been building a house out of former weapons for too long, waiting for a wolf that never came to try to blow it all down. 

Stop knocking before you break your fists. I know I said I wouldn’t lie to you anymore, and believe me I hate the sound of skin on stone. But I let you keep doing it because sometimes it helps me drown out all the things you’re not allowed to hear.

I’ll let you in, I promise. Someday when you and I are drunk with painted skin or shivering outside while the sun falls sleep or maybe in the middle of the day over a bowl of chips, I’ll unlock this fortress and let you walk through every closed off pathway to my head. Someday you’ll know me like I know me, whether you love me then or not.

But if you love me now, trust me. If you love me now, close the door.

[nonbineraryitinerary]

Weird guy dick is real.

Strange girl pussy is real.

Cringe enby sex is real.

Can I get amen for inexplicable attraction???

[mamatriedtoraisemebetter-deacti]

[poet-hunter]

im rambling about this time last year to someone i didn't even know then. i can talk about how cold it was taking those pictures on the roof of that empty parking lot but not about how panicked i get at the thought of the parking lot by my dorm not being practically abandoned. i showed him the bottle of soap that we doused all the groceries in but not the green bowl where mom ran warm water over the vegetables.i can look back at my past self and laugh knowing who i become, but the present still feels like the product of a nightmare I'm not awake from yet.

this year is not better. not by much. it's just different. it's just dizzy spells from climbing off a different carnival ride. it's just another year of waiting to not feel seasick.

[poet-hunter]

Hurricane

I was a city

Torn up by your embrace

With broken windows and flooded streets-

You dressed up as rain and

Collided with the giving parts of me

Maybe it wasn’t the breaking I loved

But the rebuilding-

Scooping up debris and swearing

Next time, it will only be a shower

As the clouds grew darker above me

I am no longer your coast to ravage,

But the storm warnings ring out anyway

And lately I’ve been taking cover out of habit-

Lately I dream of you and wake up

Devastated

[poet-hunter]

ever since you fell that day, I've heard your name in bus stops and on twin beds through my earbuds. I've seen it painted onto sidewalks and scratched into my brain. i have to wonder, after all this time, what it's like to be so wonderfully awful. what such a sweet venom must taste like. even people whose hearts you broke open back up to you like they weren't in pieces last month. people you've never known remember you like a bitter friend.

i have to wonder about that kind of power. how captivating you have to be, how breathtaking, in order to blind people to your own darkness. how you fill hearts with such sweetness that even after you're revealed to be poisoned, they ache with the self betrayal of craving one more taste.

i don't want to be a villain like you. but i have to envy whatever you're made of that won't let people remember that you're not a hero.

[poet-hunter]

what a pattern you know. i keep being revived by strangers.

i woke up at ten o clock at night from an accidental after school nap and i saw one of her posts on my blog. i went to her blog and i kept reading for thirty more minutes. and then an hour. and then all night. and then for all of high school.

i found the embarrassing side of Instagram a couple weeks into the year and found myself looking up the name of the guy whose marshall lee cosplay lived in my mind rent free. for nearly seven months after that, so did he.

when he left, they took over. a handful of girls living out the more fantastical dreams of friendship and self love i had as a lonely kid. a handful of guys who gave me hope for the rest of them, who i grew to envy without knowing why. joke tweets, story updates, thirty second videos featuring wild makeup and LED lights, livestreams where they didn't think anything of saying my name right the first try, but i did.

they don't know. she has no idea that she carried me through four years of depression. he didn't even notice the girl he'd been helping through a pandemic until it had already been going on for six months. they don't know that because of their dedication to getting the best of life on camera and unapologetic love for their friends, somebody started college with a bang.

what a way to get by. people who don't know a thing about my life keep saving it again and again.

[poet-hunter]

Where Are the Mountains Again?

i forget what I'm supposed to see

through my bedroom window.

the line between strattus and sulfur

gets blurrier every day.

the sun isn't red anymore,

but all the flags still are.

our foggy little mariposa sunset

spills light into the room

like honey over my hands.

too beautiful to look up.

to beautiful to remember how it got here.

the outskirts of a statewide bonfire

far enough to paint the sky

and take our breath away.

close enough that we were already

breathing carefully anyways.

it's a spectacular tragedy-

thousands of acres of flame

for one close-up of gold light on a brown hand.

this time when i look up,

the mountains won't be looking back at me.

(i don't wanna look up.)

[poet-hunter]

September Night In My Old Bed

this room feels like a bottle of summer's end.

5 weeks made me a stranger in my own home,

but everything that matters is familiar.

the energy here is static,

never budging from that warm August glow.

same light from the window

reflected on the same spot of the wall.

same closet with the same door open

(only i picked out a bit of the jewelry robbery style).

same corner of my bed i've curled up in for years.

same desk and mirror and light and yellow paint and tree in the front yard that a little over a month ago, i was still praying to escape.

the same. and yet so different.

piles on my desk that i didn't make

and drawers full of clothes i didn't fold.

walls more bare than a garden in the desert.

mom said she tried to make it nice for me.

it's nicer, i think,

because it looks like it belongs

to anyone else.

this place is all mine,

in ways i can't quite say

about my beloved plaster box downtown.

i'm glad to be here.

(even if i can't wait to leave.)

i wouldn't trade it for the world.

(even though i did.)

[poet-hunter]

“Nobody knows why she laughs at nothing or wanders the halls or knows the answer about thirty seconds after looking at the problem in a math class you can bet your ass she’s failing And they don’t know that she wishes she could put a shovel down her throat and scrape out all of the rot inside her as she desperately shoves whatever unhealthy coping mechanism makes her feel alive into her stomach and that the idea of being thrown off a building makes her smile but only if she’s the one pretending to fly with her arms flailing But they know that she’s…there. Sometimes she’ll stare when she sees someone being happy for longer than a minute. She tends to walk like she’s not even awake, and you don’t know where she’s going or when she’s gonna sit her ass down and be normal But she’s there.”

— AND SHE CAN’T FUCKING STAND IT

[poet-hunter]

hey. hey me. guess what.

we know now.

we weren't even fucking surprised. neither was the one girl we told. if dad was shocked, he didn't look like it, but it's not the great dark mystery that it felt like all your life.

you have adhd, man.

yup. you were right. the Google searches and the Tumblr posts that you reblogged because you just 'totally relate, but you don't like, actually think you might have it', the checklists you scrolled through over and over... they weren't for nothing.

not being able to sit still at all is like, basic hyperactivity my friend. you can't pass a class that you can't pay attention to. there's all kinds of other shit that ends up making sense too, but those were the big ones because they got you in trouble.

also. you have depression.

you knew that, but it was good to have it confirmed by a medical professional (unfortunately, mom still isn't convinced). the good news is that we're getting the medical help we need, and we don't have to do it from inside mom and dad's house. at least not for a while.

oh. and chill about wanting to destroy yourself. we can be happy with ourselves without constantly looking for ways to be someone else. we're not there yet, but we will be.

we will be.