Tired.

GUESS WHAT GUYS, THE BITCH IS BACK

OKAY AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO PICTURED JAMIE WITH BLACK HAIR?!?! I PICTURED ANDREW LIKE HES MEANT TO PICTURED BUT JAMIE IS COMPLETELY FUCKING DIFFERENT TO HOW I IMAGINED HIM

WHO THE FUCK IS THE CONCERNERD MEMBER IN MY COMMUNITY FFS IM NOT GONNA KILL MYSELF

i wish ppl spoke to me

in my opinion janet in rocky horror was bad aswell, cus yeah franky fucked his kid, and he was only a day old, but so did janet! obvi shes not as bad as frank bcs like frank killed eddie and fed him to everyone and like he enslaved people, and sort of sexually assualted people SO OBVI HES HORRIBLE but janet slept with a day old person

I JUST READ THE MILK FIC CURRENTLY KILLING MYSELF

i just fucking cried over a drawing. the hair was weird the face was too long, the ridge above the lip connecting to the nose looked fucking stupid and all my drawings look fucking stupid because im simply not talented.

why do i try

i wish my dad just fucking loved me

Poetry has always been an integral part of my identity, a realm that seemed elusive to those around me. The depth of my connection to it, the reasons behind my writing, and the very process itself remained enigmatic to my acquaintances. I preferred it that way, not out of secrecy, but rather a belief that the intricacies of my poetic world might overwhelm their mental capacity. Then I met Finn.
          Finn embodied a blaze, untamed, radiant, and uncontainable. In stark contrast, I existed as a quiet and dorky entity, almost anonymous in the eyes of others. Yet, with Finn's arrival, an undeniable transformation unfolded. He brought a rare sense of joy into my life, a profound departure from my usual state. In his presence, I felt truly myself, basking in the warmth of an authentic connection that had eluded me before.