A far distant truth

[wefindourselvesinthedark]

Hi I'm Jon and I might be less shitty than my first impression leads you to believe.

[wefindourselvesinthedark]

I'm at a point right now where I can't go home and I can't stay.

I can't stay here, with this biting loneliness, this wholly empty feeling. That I am falling now through a windless tunnel makes no difference to the girl biting her lip in the cubicle next to mine. In here there is no breath that fills my lungs.

I can't go home to a different kind of loneliness. There it is the loneliness of consistency, of miles and miles of land that are washed out by memories. Nothing new can grow and I have no hope in change there.

[wefindourselvesinthedark]

Lately all I can think about is art, and how I wish i could be doing it, or even knew which kind of art was most mine? Im working through it.

[wefindourselvesinthedark]

acknowledgement that previous post was both basic and whiny, however fundamentally true.

[wefindourselvesinthedark]

tbh i just want someone to take me on a date or something

[wefindourselvesinthedark]

Drink Drank Drunk

I've felt more lost than usual, then I really have in a long time.

maybe more confined by my choices and lack thereof 

so much of life is analogous to the division of our cells.

Once I was omnipotent, a single cell with all the world around me 

and then I started dividing and splitting, and its called diversification or specialization but I never specialized in much I suppose

I'm self centered, and tired, and lost and lonely, but I'm convinced that this is growing, this interminable loneliness.

[wefindourselvesinthedark]

The early bets are in on the Jon's Harem 2014 Bracket and it shows Aaron at a strong lead of 2:1 over Yung Bobby

[wefindourselvesinthedark]

A part of me really likes working holidays. It's like a way of proving I'm not handed everything, that I work harder than some people, which I suppose I'm obsessed with. There's always been some part of me that wants to be so fiercely independent that no one could ever attribute my accomplishments or mistakes with anyone else. Sometimes people call me self centered or selfish or vain but I think its more like I'm never in-between the two poles, either i think I'm the greatest man who ever lived or the worst thing to happen since I don't know when, Im either looking out for number one or trying to sacrifice my drunk ass so no one else will get in trouble.

[wefindourselvesinthedark]

I.I don't know how to fuck I only know how to make love. I can't see the person for less than the sum of their parts and I've never been able to casually hook up. It always turns into cuddling and holding and me acting the void of their past. I get more from knowing people than I do from fucking them. The value of sadness accrued over a lifetime is beauty. And they look at me and laugh and want it to be more but i can't right now.

II. I don't know how to make love I only know how to fuck. to fuck you over and to fuck things up, that's the modus operandi here. Get in and get out with as much damage as possible. I'm serrated, i bristle and flex with anticipation towards actions, carefully aligned and malignantly played out. I will lie and tell you i want nothing but the best and I will lie so deeply that I must believe it.

[wefindourselvesinthedark]

Never Grown only Growing

[wefindourselvesinthedark]

One of the benefits of being gay is dating gay guys. 

Yeah i know that sounds like the most obvious thing in the world but hear me out. 

There is a certain shared... pain? or depth among us i don't know how to quantify it. I guess i find it easy to find every boy i meet beautiful because we all have some small tragedy together.

growing up gay is sometimes like a series of traumas

I know thats the same for all people ours are just more relatable?

[wefindourselvesinthedark]

they don't see it, the downcast eye

and they certainly don't know what it means when i withdraw for that imperceptible moment,

because you are in them too.

To how many people will I profess my love be the song you put on that valentines mix cd.

[wefindourselvesinthedark]

You told me a week too late that you dreamt of us getting married.

In a big old barn with christmas lights and all of our families.

We stood there in tuxes, barefoot in the mud.

and I thought it fitting that in your dream we would be missing something so basic, but important as shoes.

I've found myself wanting to tell people why i drank so much, but it's hard to explain it

I guess I was tired of having to wrestle my logic and my desires.

but dammit, all i needed was that phone call one week earlier.

[wefindourselvesinthedark]

using a paperclip and a lighter my roommate and I branded ourselves with a small dash near the intersection of our thumb and pointer finger, an obscure but indelible tribute to certain aspects of my life.

[wefindourselvesinthedark]

I'm drinking cold coffee at 2 AM because I chose to lay down next to a boy rather than study the inner mechanisms of memory in the brain. The same mechanisms that let that boy fall into impressions of every other bundle of warmth filling my beds, every small wonder that has slept in my eyes. they are conglomerate, one single mass of humanity, their movements and jokes passed on to one another through the lineage of those i'm bound to hurt. the experience of most of my people seems to be a dichotomy of pain and passion, of intensely sought after romances and fiercely fought arguments. It's not enough for us, I have an exam in six hours.

[pigmenting]

Each time I’m asked to tell about myself, I find myself starting the same way: “My name is Kelsey and I’m nineteen..” but what I’d really like to say is: “My name means island of the ships but once I found a translation that said I’m a burning shipwreck- not a burning ship but a ship that has caught fire after the wreckage and well, I’d say that’s more fitting.” I’ve learned that people don’t have time for about me’s. They need two things: a name and an indication you’re someone special. The doctors, they want facts not details. “I broke my leg when I was three, it’s a funny story actually-“ The right or the left? Conversation over. The teachers, they want interests, hobbies. You’re sad, yes, but what do you like to do? The adults are a spew of questions. What school do you go to? What classes are you taking? What do you plan on becoming? Got a boyfriend? No, stop. People my own age are the worst. “I’m planning on an English degree with a concentration in creative writing.” Yeah, aren’t we all. So how many times have you, you know, done it? I’m pulled apart, my interests travelling highway 2 my goals at a stop light at traffic hour, my medical history on a billboard for the world to see. But what about me? Where’s the chance to say, “I hang on to fistfuls of poetry like loose change in my pockets, and I keep waiting for the day that the world turns upside down so I can swim with the stars. I’m not afraid of darkness, it’s a loneliness I can empathize with it. It’s the blackholes like cigarette burns inside of me that get troublesome. I walk through graveyards and read the dashes between years, each a story I’ll never know. Sometimes I create my own.” No wonder none of us know who we are anymore.

Kelsey Danielle, “I Was Told to Write an About Me and This is What Happened” (via mansardwoof)

[ladyjanelives]

When I say that she was the greatest, I mean that she resembled a circus. She was not brightly colored, nor was she composed of three rings, but under a tent in the middle of a starlit field on a summer night, you could see her in just a t-shirt and forget how unhappy the elephants were.

“The First Girl,” Rob MacDonald (via speioritur)