#lonelynatural

[t4tstarvingdog]

there were periods of time where dean would drive days without talking to another soul. weeks without feeling someone else’s skin on his, even in passing. months where he was the only passenger in a car that used to hold four. when he was four years old he stopped talking because his mom died. when he was twenty-four he stopped talking because there was no one to say anything to

[t4tstarvingdog]

thinking about twenty-something dean thinking he’s gonna die alone. gonna die bloody in some flash-bang of glory because death is beautiful when it’s a performance and he’s been an actor since four years old. thinking about how being sent off alone was his punishment and he kept waiting for it to kill him. expected it to kill him. he was lonely and he was dying everyday even when he was still breathing each time he dragged himself back to the motel of the day. thinking about how the only times he’d really be surprised about dying was if it happened when he wasn’t alone. we all die alone; dean just dies every time he’s lonely.

and he is always always lonely

[t4tstarvingdog]

Highways — timothy l.l.s.h. for the prompt “Touch”

i think i’ve been thinking about roadtrips and moving around just a tad too much lately... have some stanford era dean!

taglist (lemme know if you wanna be added or removed!): @faithdeans​ @enbies-and-felonies​ @spnpoetryrenaissance​

image description under the Keep Reading

[image description: a poem that reads

I guess the thing they don’t really tell you– Between all the Fridays and blood and a-hundred-miles-to-empty– Is that there’s nothin’ lonelier than the Road.

Had no one to tell me, myself. Cradle to crib to passenger seat of a car Don’t give you much time to learn About the lonely ways of someone with more highway under their skin Than soul.

No one ever told me. No one ever told me what happens when your daddy leaves, And your baby brother leaves, And you’re leaving too.

Always leavin’ the places behind you, But never escaping.

Sometimes I think about telling someone. Warning them maybe, Or maybe just trying for some half-hearted half-desperate conversation.

I never do, though.

Just pile the change haphazard on the counter for some Overworked waitress to collect, ‘Cause if it’s on the counter then I don’t have to worry about our hands Making contact And piercing to somewhere inside my highway-lonely-soul.

And I’ll toss a thanks for the meal over my shoulder, And she’ll call me honey with a gentle voice, Like she knows already, how the Road gets.

Like she knows I’ll be curling up in the backseat again tonight And trailing a hand over my own jaw,

Just to feel the touch of a stranger.

I think there’s a bit of highway inside us all, sometimes.

—timothy l.l.s.h.

end id.]

[t4tstarvingdog]

at night he curls up in the backseat of the impala, wrapped up with his leather jacket as a blanket, and he traces his fingers over his own jaw just to feel the touch of a stranger

[t4tstarvingdog]

i think if stanford era dean had one wish it wouldn’t be to get out of the life. i think that’d be a foregone conclusion in his mind already. i think he’d wish not to die alone

[t4tstarvingdog]

so a four year old experiences the grief of losing his mom, the parenthood of his dad, and every single one of his friends in a traumatic move that ends up being the beginning of a long line of traumatic and sudden moves and i’m supposed to be normal about his loneliness? his only consistent relationships were ones that he had to give everything for and didn’t get much if anything in return and i am. expected to be normal about this?????

[t4tstarvingdog]

he turns the radio up as loud as it can go and rolls the windows down and screams the lyrics because if he’s loud enough the passenger seat doesn’t sound so empty beside him

[t4tstarvingdog]

one day i will post my ‘dean and cas are fundamentally lonely people’ draft but today i could not handle it