#p ref

[therevengeoffrankenstein]

it is as george michael foretold.

[twocandles]

In case anyone thinks I’m ~overreacting, let me tell you a thing: 

Shipping is and has always been my way of compensating for the lack of love I feel in real life. I have depression, I suffer from emotional numbness and some level of alexithymia and I don’t often feel deep emotions like I imagine “healthy” people do. Or at least not positive ones.

But ships are my substitute for that. The feeling they give me is healing in a way, the romantic in me soaks up the warm fuzzies I get from seeing characters fall in love. 

So when a ship doesn’t go the way I hoped or one half even dies it is often devastating. Losing a part of yourself that meant a lot to you is always painful and this is what happens here for me. 

If that sounds overdramatic or abnormal then so be it. We all have our coping mechanism and ways of making reality more bearable and this is one of mine.

[therevengeoffrankenstein]

if the world were any fair he'd be dancing around from foot to foot like a maniac (like me, pivoting off the weight to spin with each step) while clutching my latest note like somebody's trying to take it from him.

[therevengeoffrankenstein]

favorite things (in no order) to write poetry about:

perving on old dudes

sexually harassing old dudes

dubious consent

rape (all types)

sexual violence (all types + in general)

G-D = EVERYTHING

piss

shit

puke

getting so scared and excited that you just wanna shave your head and change your name and run away to mexico

homewrecking

sex work

(in)fertility

misogyny as a manifestation of envy

loving a girl so much and being so jealous of her that you just want to cut her up into pieces and eat her because she tastes like you only sweeter

wanting to become one (all types) with somebody because you simultaneously want them and want to be them

finally being filled and therefore 'whole'

parasocial relationships

stalking

unrequited love

wanting old dudes to be my new mom

the body horror of being disabled and chronically ill

[therevengeoffrankenstein]

silently, solemnly reading the lyrics to this song in public for the times when your nose gets really cold.

[therevengeoffrankenstein]

suddenly, i remember how to dance.

[therevengeoffrankenstein]

'this time we fall in love at first sight.'

this time it's both of us, that is. you know me.

you're in that cupcake suit and i sip on some icy water. it's just cold enough without hurting my sensitive gums. i look like a hollywood starlet, but nobody misgenders me. you see me when you go to get a pitiful drink of boredom and you nearly double-take.

you say, isn't this party kinda a bummer? and i agree.

you ask me, why i'm here at such a serious party?

and i say, it's for my dad and that i tagged along.

nodding, you tell me that you're out of place too since you do something only tangentially related to the theme of the party but it's general business related so you felt obligated to come.

i ask if you want to hang out since we're both bored.

it's, like, a serious, well-lit adult party. it's almost more of clean-cut, movie stereotype of what real life balls were like. it's weirdly, anachronistically archaic in nature despite being modern day. we're modern. it's whatever.

you agree and ask me about my dad.

he does this.

wow! what do you do?

i do books.

i do something else.

we laugh about how awkward i am, and, yes, heaven help me, i LOVE the smiths.

suddenly i say, i know you; i walked with you once upon a dream.

i think so, too. you smile. by the way, i'm divorced like your dad so everything is, like, so chill.

we go dance and it's very romantic, very disco. i think too hard about gimme more by britney spears and almost slam into you. you laugh in your hearty way and i can't help but laugh along.

we go back somewhere more secluded and you ask if you can kiss me?

i open my mouth to speak but just nod like a little kid instead.

when our lips touch, it's like in enchanted when they go back and forth between the animated world andalasia and real life new york, but i'm not sure which one i'm in right now. i think i keep flipping back and forth between the two, because this is a fairytale dream come true and, simultaneously, somehow you're as real as the ground beneath my feet. your lips are on mine. your arms are around me. i kiss you harder and know you're real.

we fuck and it changes everything even more. it's perfect. i don't know how you managed to take my virginity in these tights, but i'm not complaining one bit.

what kind of party even is this, really?

we go back and chat. when my dad finally catches up with me for a moment, i tell him it's fine, that we don't have to leave right now. go do whatever. so my dad walks off again.

you rest your hand on my lower back, and, with you, it feels right. it doesn't make my head feel electric-blood hot and my stomach feel full of wasps; it's more like bubbles and butterflies and, as i would later learn for real, early morning kisses.

i say, robert desnos had a point about dreams and shadows, but it's also a bit like the wizard of oz on steroids how this party went from black and white to color with you.

you say, wait. that little old man was on steroids? and i laugh.

we stay close together until the night is coming to a close and i have to go home with my dad. it isn't a good idea to go home with you. we both know this.

you and i say our goodbyes in the dark of the garden just outside. we embrace passionately.

you whisper, voice full of husk and wonder, do you believe in love at first sight?

i cling closer to you. i want to believe.

[therevengeoffrankenstein]

maybe i will lose my virginity on my mom's grave.