no cough syrup
you are not ‘grape flavoured’
have you ever tasted a grape
you taste like death and the tears of small children
not fucking grape
wow what a surprise another cis-gendered white upper-middle class american male telling someone what they can and cannot identify as. why don’t you go fuck yourself
What was some of your favourite comments, off the top of your head?
I had no interests. I had no interests in anything. I had no idea how I was going to escape. At least the others had some taste for life. They seemed to understand something that I didn’t understand. Maybe I was lacking. It was possible. I often felt inferior. I just wanted to get away from them. But there was no place to go. Suicide? Jesus Christ, just more work. I felt like sleeping for five years but they wouldn’t let me.
Charles Bukowski, Ham on Rye (via fckmefreedom)
When I was little I loved winter and the way the cold would sting my cheeks and we’d catch snowflakes on our tongues and I didn’t mind the way I’d shiver. But now the cold makes it hard to get out of bed and every part of my body is numb, I’ve been trudging through the snow and I don’t like winter anymore. When I was little I loved spring and all the rain and flowers and I’d run through the grass and the sun shined enough to keep my skin warm but it never burned me. But now the rain is ruining my hair and the flowers make me sneeze, the sun has managed to burn my skin and I haven’t left the house in a few days. When I was little I loved summer and the way I didn’t need a jacket and I could catch fireflies and swim and laugh and all the barbecues and sleepy nights where the warm air wrapped itself around me. But now I wear a jacket no matter what and I found out I was killing the fireflies by keeping them in that jar. I hate swimming because I feel like I’m drowning and I don’t laugh much anymore. I’m always sleepy no matter what and the warm air is suffocating me. When I was little I loved fall and the way the weather was always cool, I would dress up for halloween and dig sweaters out from the back of my closet and the air tasted like pumpkin pie and I heard leaves crunching under my feet everywhere I went. But now I’m too old for Halloween, I keep empty bottles of vodka in the back of my closet and I was destroying the already dying leaves when I crushed them. I think I’ve been doing the same thing to myself.