#skramzlyfe

[xghettoskramzerx]

I'm happy to see that more and more of my trve skramz friends are leaving facebook for bluesky or going back to Tumblr

come on buddies let's make landscape pictures with your favorite iwrotehaikusaboutcannibalisminyouryearbook lyrics

[metronomecharisma]

TL ;DR : I am myself for good, I confess a lot of stuff, I love make-up and tights, I love my friends so fucking much, and I want everyone to be proud about themselves.

I promised a full story about me wearing tights and make-up and stuff some days ago on my Insagram account. So here it is. I didn’t know if I wanted to share it with you when I started writing it, but In fact I think it’s necessary to share all that with you. I want you to know this story and that I wanted to be myself for good.

Let’s start from the very beginning. I always had a great sensitivity, and some attraction for things that modern society calls “girly things”: hugging your friends, crying, writing our deepest feelings on a diary, having long hair, watching romantic films, loving flowers, loving pink, and a lot of other things. Pretty early I was attracted by beautiful clothes and attitudes that wasn’t « male ». I remember that when I was a child, when I was 6 or 8 (mom help me pls), I had a doll named Léa, and I loved taking care of her, to comb her, to tell her my secrets. I admit I also had weird experiences about discovering sexuality with that doll. I don’t have anymore souvenirs with her, but she was with me for some years, with a little blanket I still have now that one of my aunts, that now live far away from earth since 2004, offered me when I was a baby.

I didn’t have any problems by being me in primary school, despite being shy. I started to had troubles to be a “good boy” when I was in college. Almost every boys in the school was mad about me because I wasn’t male enough : I didn’t have pricey shoes, joggings, hats, vulgar language and stuff. Also I wasn’t into rap music. I grew up listening to Mylène Farmer, Nirvana, Daniel Balavoine, and even Guerilla Poubelle tho. So I forced myself to be a “good boy”: listening to (bad) rap music, wearing baggys, being a stupid disrespectful teenager (wish I could be a grunge or skramz teenager tbh), lying to myself, refusing to face my feelings, my wishes, my sensitivity, my feminity. When I was in my last year of college, I started having access to the internet, and I discovered the whole emo thing through some friends that was in that movement and recommend me some websites and elements of style. It wasn’t at all the “punk” side of emo that I discovered years later, it was all about “scene” stuff, and to be honest, I was completely blown away back in the day… I saw girls and guys with make-up, long and colored hair, lots of colored or pretty dark clothes, slim pants, with lots of feelings… I was like “wow, guys can be like them and being happy and popular and shit. It’s real…”. When I was on the internet at this time, it was for like one or two hours in a whole week because my father was super restrictive and wicked. So I managed to find the password of the computer of the father, and I passed lots of sleepless nights writing feelings on stupid blogs with scene aesthetics before he woke up to go to work… I was looking for recognition, I wanted to feel good about myself, and I refused to be alone because yeah, I felt terribly alone in my family, by beginning to love metal music, by affirming my style, my sensitivity… My father laughed a lot at me because of my sensitivity, because of the way I dressed, my way of expressing myself… The more I asserted myself, the more he mocking me and was violent against me. He hated me when I was a teenager, when I was a scene kid, when I decided to put eyeliner on me, to wear slim pants, to have long and “girly” hair… The more I was hurt by him, the more I wanted to go further and being even more myself each day. He never wanted to hear myself when I was sad, when I wanted to talk with him about life and stuff. I never had any good souvenirs with him, he was never there during my scolarity, he never learned me anything. He never wanted to have sons, only daughters. So at least, he wanted me to be a « good boy ». And I wasn’t that straight dude… And I wasn’t sorry. He wasn’t sorry. One night, he wanted to kill myself, because I stayed 10 more minutes than my authorized time limit on the computer, and I was sad and I needed to speak about myself, when no one was here for me. He grabbed my throat and strangled me with all his might, shouting “I’ll kill you!” He passed the night with cops.

Anyway, during those nights, I learned how to be myself, how to express feelings, how to talk to that kind of people, how to be like them. I met some great people, wonderful women, especially this girl with whom I had a strong relationship for a year, during my 17th year, and with whom I lived proudly my androgyny, she loved that, she even did my hair pretty often, and put makeup on me… I was really lucky, and hey, thank you so much for that, Jessica, you are a great part of who I am today. And yeah, I also met bad people. I made bad stuff too at this time, I was a stupid coward guy during a year, when I was 16, I hurted a joyful and adorable girl called Alison by thinking too much about myself, and I played the victim of the break-up. I’ll never be sorry enough for that, I was a stupid dickhead with her, I acted like my father: constantly being ignorant, constantly being on the Internet. Hope she’ll find that post one day. During those nights, I learned how beautiful a guy can be by being “girly”, androgynous… And I also learned that a good amount of them was terribly macho, with violent thoughts against women, and I strictly refused to think that way. I wanted to be myself, but why girly men were violent against the girls they wanted to look like? Do I really wanted to be like them? Why I started to thing and act like them, like my father? Maybe I wanted to be a good guy in the end, for being accepted, because it was the way I was born, because those androgynous boys themselves needed to be « good boys », because they just wanted to exist for girls and having sex and stuff. At this time I hated the idea to have sex… It’s another debate tho. Then by growing up, I searched again and again who I was, who I wanted to be. Not like them, not a male, just… me ? But fuck, who the hell I was? One thing was sure : I was alone, and never wanted to be a « good boy ». I was lost. I got some friends of course, but I wasn’t able to see them often because of my father, and mom who was under his authority. Then I was 18, the scene movement was almost dead, but I still wanted to look like this but not thinking like most of the boys in that movement, I think I reached a point where I really felt good about my look. I met a girl in my new high school that was half kawaii and half metalhead, and she was seduced by the way I dressed, my hair, the fact I was a guy with make-up and someone that was “out of step with the world” in our shitty parisian suburb. We spied each other during 3 months, she was pretty talented for that : she succeeded to have my MSN address (yeah, MSN, feel old now?) through a classmate she had missionned for making me sign a false petition… This was fucking crazy haha ! We spoke during a crazy amount of hours in MSN, then met during a cold and snowy day of December. She was so cute with her childish attitude and her yolo lifestyle… I admit her boy-ish side charmed me too. The first six months was some of the best in my young life. She encouraged me to continue to be myself, to leave my house where I suffocated more and more each passing day. I did it, I moved to her bedroom (she lived with her mother), and finally it was time for me to be free… I was wrong. I will not go into details, but she forced me to be someone I didn’t want to be, wanted to rob me and deprive me of my privacy, my sensitivity, my privacy, my friends, my website, my music tastes, my femininity. I had no right to approach her, to cuddle or kiss her, while I wanted to give her tons of love, sweetness, warmth, to tell her how she was cute and unique, how she was courageous to fight the malady that will paralyze her arms and legs, how I was frustrated, disappointed, terrified of this situation, how I missed the herself of that 22 December of 2012 so fucking much. When we made love together, it was completely cold and distant… Like, there was no love, no complicity, she wanted me to have sex, but didn’t want it at the same time… It was so weird. So I didn’t know how to act. I always was 100 % gentle and caring with her in those moments, but she remained cold, silent… I remember to sob out and wanted to scream loud as fuck one night after making love this way once again, and stifle my tears and my breath as hard as possible on the pillow so she wouldn’t hear me, and then she asked me “Yo, you’re OK?” and was like “yeah, all is fine!”, and we fell asleep, and so it went on for two years. I was afraid every day of having missed something because of my way of being, I was afraid to not being here enough for her, I was afraid, afraid of everything, afraid of me. At the end of this relationship, I lost all trust and self-esteem in myself, I repressed everything I had built and deconstructed, I just wanted to end everything and eventually wanted to start again from zero. Ultimately, to flourish as a good boy would be the way to spare me worries and being in peace with everything? I believed it.

I began to acquire somewhat disgusting ideals about women, alternative lifestyles, I started to have short hair, to be dressed like a fucking businessman, I started to troll everywhere, to be misanthropic and selfish… I was the complete opposite of the real me. I started to make friends this way, but none of them was good people, or safe. I was in a way to fucked up even more my already well fucked up life. And fortunately, even if it was super bad done at this time, I was always thinking, every time, every hour, every fucking second. And I was thinking about my actions, I was convinced that I made all that shit to be someone, to exist. But I cowardly close my eyes because I was someone to some people, I wasn’t alone. Then I finally started to REALLY start from zero the day I realized my actions were bad and wasn’t at all soothing or constructive for me and people around. It was scary as fuck but it was the best decision I ever made about me. I again isolated myself by forgetting these bad relationships, I thought about what I really liked to do, live, feel, see, listen, say, eat, drink… It took me 3 years. 3 years to find myself again, to deconstruct and reconstruct everything. To remember how the fuck I loved putting eyeliner on me, to be cheesy and lovely as fuck with people, to support every fucking kid who was alone, who was oppressed because of the way they felt with themselves, the way they dressed, their identity… Since I took over my life in hand, since I really decided to make something cool with my blog, that I really am myself, I met fantastic people, I lived perfect, wacky, unforgettable moments, I realized that my life is beautiful in spite of everything that happens around us, and it’s more and more beautiful thanks to this group of friends who consolidates since last year. I’m so fucking happy with myself since I’m cheesy and feminine and sensitive and expressive again. I think I look great, I’m happy by seeing myself this way in the mirror. When I tried that floral tights some days ago, with a grey tie-dye short above, it was completely unreal. It was like I waited to see me this way since my birth, I found myself so great… Like never before. I had tears of joy and flourishing in my eyes. No lies.

I can’t being 100% this way at work, unfortunately. Maybe 80% of myself can be showed to customers? I can’t wait to find another job where I can be totally me, it will be hard, but I think I can find it… Well, I hope :’) I’m feeling more myself than ever with that floral tights, with that black shorts, with my fringe and long hair, with eyeliner, with nail polish, with my childish attitude. And 100% of my actual friends and lots of punx people love me this way, and I can’t thank them enough for this. Some people aren’t aware yet of all I say on this post before reading this, so hey mom, hey dad, hey family, hey facebook friends : here’s your non-binary small vegan skramzkid, more happy and proud than ever, struggling with bad looks in the streets but not giving a fuck about it in the end, saying fuck you to every racist, sexist, machist, transphobic, ableist people, living his life fully because we only have one, taking care of each friend, each life around me, being me, being him, being her, being good. A super cool friend asked me what pronouns to use to talk to me… You can use they/them and “iel” for french people. Also “he” or “she” none will disturbs me, I feel good in my boy’s body as in my femininity, the most important for me is to feel good about myself. Maybe one day I’ll feel better with one pronoun rather than the other. Maybe. Who knows, life’s surprising, right ? :)

Hey everyone, please, be proud of who you are. Your body & mind are fucking YOURS. We only fucking living once, it’s OUR time, OUR lives. You are great, you matters, you are beautiful, you are NOT alone, no matter the age, color, origins, « imperfections » you have. Please, don’t let common people tell you how to dress, to think, to live, to love, to have sex, be YOU, ALWAYS. And if you are against all that, FUCK YOU, unfriend me, unfriend every of my friend, forget me, I don’t want you in my life because I live AGAINST you.

*insert all the lyrics of « rather die young, than die young at heart » of Rainmaker* « Mais d'où vient cette étrange impression de sentir mes mots se briser sous ce bloc de discours agencés, sous le poids du pré-pensé… Advienne que pourra, j'ai fait mon choix. Désolé mon gars, encore libre à moi de refuser ce qu'on t'a inculqué, je n'ai pas à m'y plier, à ton mal à penser ! Encore libre à moi de refuser ce qu'on t'a inculqué, ce qu'on veut m'imposer ! » Belle Epoque - Le mal à penser.

Yours truly, Guillaume.

[arwithutarid]

Forget forest show, this time we’ll bring you to Angkasa! #wevelostbeautyfest2019 #skramzlyfe #massanera #pirireispunx #tristepunx #epiduralpunx #betharipunx #mortarpunx #asterpunx #efilpunx #pelempunx (at Angkasa) https://www.instagram.com/p/BuEP7pVBe9k/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=s63n2eypc8yt

[mowgli91]

Come rock with us at The Lost Abbey! We're all about those delicious craft brews and that Skramz life! Reblog from @lostabbey Photo by @davisharmon #skramzlyfe #craftbeerlife (at Port Brewing Co / The Lost Abbey)

[snotcherss]

I secretly fantasize about feeding you doritos and arizona ice tea while i give you hugs and listening to vaporwave together. :$

I think about you every day, deep dark fantasies bondage party boy next door 

[americanmemoriesmusic-blog]

Sorry

We don't post much stuff, we are both busy all the time, and never think to post anything. we are pretty boring besides playing in band 

[myheartnottojoy-blog]

(Y)