'14, No. 3
The waste years
I remember it was just a couple of years ago when I still thought of life as a very lush thing, undeniably innocent, with drugs and such dark things being almost unattainable for me. The mere thought of them scared me, frightened me; they were the demons that we so often heard about that roam around, looking for easy prey. And me and my friends, we were so pure, so far away from those beast, unreachable to their grasp. We were shielded within our small bubble.
But then we learned about those other demons, the ones that roam our own heads, that lurk underneath our deepest emotions. Those that make us company when we are loneliest and talk to us when we are quietest. And we learned not only about their existence, but to talk to them, too. And they told us to walk astray. And that’s when our inner demons reached for the hand of those outer ones. And that’s when we met that filthy hand that we decided not to merely shake, but to embrace. And that’s when our bubble popped.
At first, I saw a gathering of people. And that didn’t scare me. I poked around, roamed about, even spoke with them aloud. But then I started noticing the details, the tiniest ones, the ones that remain mostly unseen/unheard/unthought. And that scared me.
That’s when I noticed how many people love these demons, including people who used to shiver at my side when we saw them, even those who grew their whole life afraid of them. And with time I just come to realize that people not only love the weaker demons, but also the strong ones. Those that actually love that sense of betrayal… Those that could/would kill you.
And that’s when I realized how sad this whole idealized fantasy is. How sad it is to see friends drift away, or pick them up at their rehab meetings, or hear the stories of those
older younger than you, where you can perfectly visualize them tearing their own lives apart, piece by tiny piece. Or probably what’s scariest, to see people you know have potential, have indisputable intelligence, wreck themselves regardless of their motives.
And it makes you wonder if it’s a common phase of life through which every normal being walks through, or if it’s something that haunts my generation.
And it makes you wonder if the love for those demons is a warm kind of love, or if it rather is of those loves that slowly deteriorate you, until it leaves you and breaks you.
And it makes you wonder if there’s truly a treasure among the wreckage, among the rubble that we ourselves amass with our actions.
And it makes me wonder if it’s truly worth it to… just waste away.
I wish it was socially acceptable to wear whatever we want and I’m just not talking about revealing clothes I’m talking about togas and full on Victorian dress and evening gowns for the hell of it. I mean imagine if people went around dressed like elves or dwarves from Lord of the Rings it would be fabulous I mean have you seen how hot that stuff makes you
a relationship will not cure your issues, no matter how hard young adult books and films try to push that notion on us. if you have depression or bipolar or anxiety or whatever, getting into a relationship isn’t going to cure that or make it go away. person with illness + relationship = ill person in a relationship. please don’t put all of your focus on finding someone to fix you, focus on fixing yourself the right way.
Julie D’Aubigny was a 17th-century bisexual French opera singer and fencing master who killed or wounded at least ten men in life-or-death duels, performed nightly shows on the biggest and most highly-respected opera stage in the world, and once took the Holy Orders just so that she could sneak into a convent and shag a nun.
bisexual opera singer who killed ten men and snuck into a convent to shag a nun.
Just so y’all know, she later set that convent on fire so she and that nun could sneak out. And she seduced one of the men she’d dueled.
Also, dueling was a serious crime during her life, but the king of France essentially overturned her conviction on the grounds that the relevant law specifically referred to men.how has there never been a million stories about this badass
It’s always a good day when my wife is back on my dash.
A few typos, but he got his point across. Props to brother Wise Math. We need more brothers, more people, like him.
Much respect to this dude right here.
The anatomy of the Beast
I definitely thought that last arrow was headed somewhere else.
cock of a HORSE
i FUCKING HIT MY HEA DON THE DESK BECAUSE OF LAUGHING SO HARD AT THAT LAST BIT
IM SO PISSED OFF THAT WE DONT HAVE BALLS ANY MORE
I WANT TO WEAR A HUGE DRESS AND BE COURTED AND DANCE AROUND AND HAVE MY GOWN SWEEP THE FLOOR AND BE ALL ELEGANT AND GRACEFUL WITH GLOVES AND SHIT
BUT NO WE HAVE DUMB HOUSE PARTIES WITH CHEAP BEER AND RED CUPS AND HORNY TEENAGE BOYS WHO PUT THEIR HANDS UP MY SHIRT
for a second there i thought you were talking about testicles omg