#self02

[danilocleao]

#Repost @ysl with @herreranna • • • • • SAINT LAURENT – #SELF02 WITH VANESSA BEECROFT 01 – 15 DECEMBER, MIAMI ART BASEL ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
PHOTOGRAPHY & SCENOGRAPHY by #VANESSABEECROFT CURATED by ANTHONY VACCARELLO
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#YSL #SaintLaurent #YvesSaintLaurent
@anthonyvaccarello https://www.instagram.com/p/Bq_AAzcgCmD/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1qxqbm87iqfmr

[digitalrp]

#Repost ysl: SAINT LAURENT – #SELF02 WITH VANESSA BEECROFT 01 – 15 DECEMBER, MIAMI ART BASEL ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
PHOTOGRAPHY & SCENOGRAPHY by #VANESSABEECROFT CURATED by ANTHONY VACCARELLO
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
#YSL #SaintLaurent #YvesSaintLaurent
@anthonyvaccarello https://www.instagram.com/p/Bq8jKlwBu04/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=15gfxaw9o2zbj

[antonioscarinci]

#Repost for @ysl with @appreposter SAINT LAURENT – #SELF02 WITH VANESSA BEECROFT 01 – 15 DECEMBER, MIAMI ART BASEL ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
PHOTOGRAPHY by #VANESSABEECROFT CURATED by ANTHONY VACCARELLO
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
#YSL #SaintLaurent #YvesSaintLaurent
@anthonyvaccarello https://www.instagram.com/p/Bq8Sm9LHwnL/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=8tcquup3ndpn

[southern-prince-blog]

Self Loathing || Closed

Sam was sitting under an oak tree, the wind was lashing out against his skin. It had been a while since he had time to sit and actually think. It wasn't something he normally liked doing. Running from everything always seemed to work for him, but you could only run so far before everything comes back ten times worse. This was happening to him.

He had so many problems held up inside of him. Secrets that he had been living with for years. Some worse than others, but all dark none the less. He had known for a while that he wasn't exactly right in the head, but he would never admit that to anyone. He had an image he had to uphold. He was a broken person, trying to fit the picture perfect role. He wasn't fit to be king, he wasn't fit to be royalty.

The sad truth about everything was that he couldn't do anything about it. It was against his nature, against his culture, against his family. He was trapped in a room, and it kept getting smaller day by day.

He was sure that he was going to snap soon, unsure of everything that was going on in his mind. There were so many things he wished he could change, but there was no way he ever would.

 His anger was welling up in him, threatening to take over. His actions seemed to get more violent as time passed on. His morality was crumbling, and soon he feared that he would see everyone as a wild animal that needed to be slaughtered.

He wasn't interested in making any types of friendships, because in the end there is no one he could trust. He was skeptical about his family at some times, but that was only because he knew that if anything came out to his parents, he would be disowned.

That was not the life that he wanted to live. It wasn't the life he was born to live. So many people threatened him with treatment. Saying that he needed to see a therapist, talk about his problems. But his pride was getting in the way, and every time he got close to cracking, he would shut back up.

He thought maybe he found one person to confide in, but as time passed on, he knew it was nothing but a hopeless dream. Something that was never going to happen. He had gotten his hopes up, only to get them crushed. Just another reason he didn't trust anyone.

The current conflict that was running through his mind had been something he couldn't shake off. He wished that he could, that it was just some sick disease that he could cure. But he knew that it wasn't. It was something that he was going to have to live with.

The more he thought about the event that happened..How willing he was, the sicker he felt. He didn't understand how he could let himself do it. How his body reacted the way it did, even though he was raised to be against that sort of thing.

"Fuckin' queer.." Sam whispered to himself, looking down at his hands.

Even saying those words to himself stung. It was as if he was stabbing himself in the heart, twisting the handle to make the incision worse. There was no mending that. There was no fixing it. It was an ugly truth that he was going to have to face.

He knew that he needed to tell someone about it. Someone besides his brother, someone who would sit and talk about. Try and shed some light on the situation. But again, his pride wouldn't have it.

He would rather sit under the shade of the oak, tearing himself apart, then talk about what had happened. It was going to ruin everything. It had ruined everything. And as much as he wished he didn't regret it, and no matter if he said he didn't or not..He did.

He regretted it so much it hurt. He shouldn't have ever went out on the limb and tested out the theory. Because now he caught himself doing things he never should have been doing.

Scanning the halls for the man who changed his life. Becoming uneasy when he heard rumors about things happening with said man. Worrying day and night if something was ever going to happen between them, or if it was just some sick twisted dream of his.

Sam was tired. He was tired of all the mixed emotions, of all the pain he was putting himself through. Most days he wished that the gun would have went off, that it would have blown his brains out on point.

Sure, suicide was a cowards way out. But right now, that's how he felt. He felt like a little boy lost in the big city, unsure of where to go. Turning down dark alleys, hoping to find some sort of safe haven, but never finding it. His mind was at a never ending war, one that he would never win.

He often found himself laying wide awake at night, staring at the ceiling, wondering if things would ever be okay. He wondered if it was just a phase, that it would pass on eventually. But deep down, he knew it never would. And now that he went out on the limb, he knew nothing would ever be the same.

"Stop bein' such a pussy.." Sam mumbled to himself, pushing himself up off the ground.

He dusted his pants off, and looked around the now empty campus. People had been gone for a long time now, and he was the only one in sight.

He ran a hand through his hair, before shoving his hands into his pockets. He wasn't sure where he was going to go, but he knew that he wasn't going to stick around here. There was no point.

"No point..No fuckin' point in fuckin' anythin' anymore.." He shook his head, and headed off towards the front gate.

Maybe he was going to run off. Maybe he could leave everything behind. Change his look, change his name, completely blend in with society. Leave the confederacy to be ran by someone who knew exactly what they were doing. But it wasn't that simple. Nothing in Sam's life was ever simple, and he was the only person to blame for that.

[dodgin-the-world-blog]

Get out of here, Dodge || Closed

It was like a miracle had happened. Dodger had just received an email, that he had to read through a broken screen, that stated he was to return home. He didn't know how it was possible though, because no one was being sent home. The war was just starting, and it was impossible to get out of your contract.

He closed out the email, and sat staring at the broken screen. "No fucking way." He whispered, before a fellow soldier entered his tent. "For you, Dodge." He said, placing an envelope on his desk. The soldier left the area without saying anything else.

Dodger took the envelope, and flipped it over a few times. It was addressed to him, but he was afraid to open it. He stared at it a few minutes, before ripping the letter open. He unfolded it, and began to read. Tears began to pour down his cheeks as he read that his division was getting sent home. That the war was still going on, but the boys had things to do back at Disney. He was to pack his things, and report to the air field in exactly an hour.

He was going to be home..In twelve hours. The timing couldn't be anymore..Perfect. But he was still confused as to what he was coming home too. He wasn't the same man that he was three months earlier. He was..Different.

One thing was for certain though, as he packed, he kept looking back at the picture of Pascal. He was going to make things right, the best that he could. He felt as if he had failed her, but maybe..Just maybe, he could make it up to her.

[dodgin-the-world-blog]

You Haven't Seen The Last Of Me || Closed

Dodger rolled over in his bed, and stared out the window. The sun hadn't even said hello yet, the only light was that from the street lamps. He looked at his alarm clock, and frowned. He was leaving in two hours. He had less time than that to get ready, and to say his goodbyes.

He got out of bed, and stretched. He looked around his room, and felt his heart begin to beat. This could be the last time that he would see it. This could be the last time that he would be in this house. He knew the risks that came with enlisting. But he was willing to take the chance.

He got dressed slowly, hating the sound of the dog tags that jingled every time he moved. He was dreading leaving. He was not ready to get on that plan, and go to who knows where. But he had too. He made a choice, and now he was going to have to live with it.

He took one last look at himself in the mirror, and walked out of his room. His family wait for him in the living room. Their faces showed a wide range of emotions. Rita was a sniffling mess, but he could tell that she was trying to hold it together. Pops wore a look of pride, knowing that his son would do well in battle. And Tito..Tito sat with a blank face. He couldn't read it, but he didn't want too.

He walked swiftly into the room, and picked Rita up into a giant hug. He kissed her on the top of the head, and whispered in her ear. "Stay strong." Was all he said, before moving on to his father. He shook his hand, at first, before pulling him into a long hug.

When he was done hugging his father, he just stared at Tito. He nodded his head, and shook his hand. "Later." Was all he said.

He didn't see Oliver..But he figured that Oliver was out saving himself from hurt. He understood it, and he was already planning to write a long letter to his brother. He didn't want him to feel as if he was being abandoned, this was just the choice that Dodger had decided to make.

When he had finally said his heart renching goodbyes to his family, he walked out the house, giving them all one last look. "I love ya'll.." He whispered, before closing the door behind him.

He got into the taxi, taking one last look at his family's house. He didn't know if he would ever come back, and that thought weighed heavily on his heart. He thought about going into battle, about dieing, about coming home in a wooden box. The thought was terrifying, but he was going to deal with it. He was a soldier now. He had to protect his country, and protect his family.

He saw the air port approaching, and took a deep breath. He got out the taxi, and walked to where the rest of the other soldiers were. He stood in line, and slowly lost his identity. He was no longer Dodger Fonzarelli. He was Fonzi,  an E1 who knew his way around a gun. He had already been through some training, and made friends with a couple of the guys.

They all seemed eager, ready to go into war. But he wasn't. He stood in line, ignoring the jokes that came from the others. He kept his hand in his pocket, toying with the silver dollar his father had given him. He had a couple of things tucked away in his pockets. The silver dollar, a small picture of Pascal, a ring that Rita made him when she was little. It was made out of a blue shiny bread tie, and she was very proud of it. He held on to it since she first gave it to him, years ago. He kept his hands in his pockets as he waited to go through customs.

When he went through, and he saw the plane ahead of him, he gulped down air. His throat was closing, and he felt the tears threatening to unleash themselves. But he had to be strong. He had too. He turned, and with one last look, he said goodbye to Disney.