Buck’n’Butch

Almost 30, Stoner Butch/Dyke Men,Minors,Ageless Blogs DNI. DMS CURRENTLY CLOSED. Asks/Anons CURRENTLY CLOSED. Running on Queue.

[primetimedyke]

[primetimedyke]

Come get cozy in my lap.

[sinekliv0dka-deactivated2022041]

[primetimedyke]

Butch and Blunt

[threedollarsdotcom]

in another life we could of crashed our cars into each other

[spaceboytoy]

Hello bisexual community

[spaceboytoy]

Begin killing

[tartrazeen]

[morbidology]

Blood flowing down a stream from a slaughter house.

[primetimedyke]

Need some bite marks on these shoulders.

[primetimedyke]

Laid Back Saturday

[howlerbat]

you ever listen to a song 47 times in a row and every time you’re like wow what a good song. I’m gonna play it again.

[pmamtraveller]

Adolph von Menzel - The Studio Wall

[perrfectly]

Credit belongs to owner x

[primetimedyke]

Useful Things

I hate how most morning begins with the same thought: Why am I alive?

The dull exhausting realization that I have to do another day. That I have to get up, put the pieces back together, and continue moving forward. Wanting to succeed while simultaneously wanting to disappear is a strange kind of war to wage against yourself. Most of my life has become performance and procedure. Carefully calculated outputs, measured responses, the constant management of how I am perceived. I move through crowded rooms and busy days surrounded by people yet somehow always alone.

Even in my own circles I feel like I exist at the edges of them. Never fully inside, never fully outside. Just close enough to belong and distant enough to remain unseen. It’s like living life through static. People know my shape. They know my usefulness. They know what I can provide. The dependable one. The one who gets things done. The one who shows up. The money, the weed, the ride, the sex, the advice, the labor, the shoulder to lean on. But very few people know me.

Being neurodivergent only sharpens the feeling. Every interaction feels translated before it leaves my mouth. Every conversation runs through a filter. Every expression is measured against what will be understood, what will be acceptable, what will keep the peace. I wear a mask for my family. For my friends. At work. At the grocery store. Sometimes I wear it so long I forget where it ends and I begin.

And yet there was a time I almost stopped.

I remember your laugh when I wandered off on some strange tangent. I remember you calling me weird but saying it with warmth instead of judgment. I remember the feeling of your hand moving across my arm while you said it. How the affection wrapped around the word and transformed it into something safe.I remember how you didn’t punish me for my anxieties. How you let me take my time. How you listened to me explain my mental processes.

I remember thinking, Maybe this is what it means to be with someone.Not just loved but understood.

I remember believing that maybe I didn’t have to hold myself so rigidly all the time. That maybe I could loosen my grip for once. Speak a little more freely. Exist a little more honestly. I remember thinking I was experiencing real love for the first time in my life and not because everything was perfect but because I felt seen and accepted.

And when I started feeling distance growing between us I remember opening up anyway. I remember sitting in therapy replaying every conversation, every text, every moment, trying desperately to understand what I was missing. Desperate not to ruin the first thing that had ever felt safe. Desperate to hold onto the one person who seemed to see beyond the mask.

The one person who chuckled instead of judged.

The one person who made me feel like being myself wasn’t something that needed to be apologized for.

And then you left.

No warning. No explanation. No final conversation to explain. Just absence.

I remember how quickly I understood what that meant. I remember realizing I had mistaken being tolerated for being known, and being known for being loved.

I have not stopped being aware of that since.

Now every time I think about saying something that doesn’t quite fit the conversation I swallow it. Every time I feel myself drifting into one of my strange tangents, I pull myself back. I nod at the right moments. Smile when expected. Say the appropriate thing.

Each morning I hammer the mask back into place.

Some days it feels like the nails are straining under the weight of it. Some days it feels like they’re driven straight through me. And still I force it on because life rewards usefulness far more consistently than authenticity.

I’ve learned that if I make myself valuable in predictable ways, the loneliness becomes manageable. If I can anticipate what’s needed and provide it before anyone asks, then at least I have a place. At least I have a purpose.

But there are mornings when I wonder what happens when I’m gone.

Not when I stop helping. Not when I stop showing up to a particular place or drift out of a particular circle. I mean gone. When the messages stop being answered because there is no one left to answer them. When the problems remain unsolved. When the dependable person everyone counted on simply ceases to exist.

I wonder if people would notice before they adapted. Not the inconvenience of my absence but the absence itself. I wonder if they would miss me or merely the things I provided. The rides. The favors. The reliability. The sex and reassurance. The version of me that was always useful and never burdensome.

Every now and then in the quiet moments before the day begins, before I pick up the hammer and fit the mask back into place, I find myself wondering whether anyone ever truly knew me at all. Whether the people around me knew a person or only a performance. Whether there is a meaningful difference between being loved and being needed.

And whether after all these years of trying so desperately to belong somewhere, anyone would notice the space I left behind or simply adjust to the fact that it was empty.

[piyanokokusuu-deactivated202401]

[chaoticneutralwife]

ah no can’t hang out today i’m gonna smoke weed and jerk off yeah it’s gonna be an all day thing sorry actually wait do you want to watch

[theyreallgonnalaughatyou]

[festeredhearts]