Judas Always Fell

Funeral by phoebe bridgers is playing in my head. Theres so many sentences. Theres so much, dismay. Maybe ive just been reading to much Russian lit. I wanna be a historian. I wanna be an archeologist but everything im interested in has already been found. Isn't that life? I keep thinking of that lyric by lucy dacus, the whole "You were looking for saints, but you only found people". I think its like that except more towards i went looking for demons but only found people. Theres this girl. Not like the usual love affair, moreso hatred and rage and unburied memories.

I hate my life. I love my life. Ive filled it with good people, good things. It feels like a marathon. Like life is just this race that will never end that im praying to end. I used to do cross country. I used to want to die laying down because my entire life ive been running. Running from my mom, from who I am, from feelings from thinking. When I lay in bed I cant run from those things. She died tomorrow a year ago. I dont feel anything. Shes been gone a year and I cant feel anything. Noone tells you the lack of feeljng when your mom dies. Noone tells you how much it hurts to call for your mom and realize that this time instead of her purposefully not showing up, she just cant.

There is something comforting about standing in a burning house and watching the fire be extinguished. There is something horrifying about standing in a burning house and realizing you weren't the one who started the fire. There is something beautiful about standing in the remnants of a burnt house and watching it become a home.

My mother haunts every corner of this house. And in the same way a ghost cannot live in the light, she flourishes in the dark. Everyone seems to have forgotten her existence. Reminds me of the munchkins in wizard of Oz. So grateful that the witch is dead. Julie Rae posey. At least I know she's dead. Doesn't stop the nightmares. I poured out 30 benadryl and only took 7. Maybe ive skipped my chance at death. Maybe I should keep popping pills. I would do anything to avoid dreaming about her again. But it also hurts feeling like im the only one who remembers her. Like yeah, its been almost a year. But she's gone. Shes gone and im never gonna get a chance to show her, to prove to her that im good enough. Shes dead and im a failure. Worse than that, she's dead and noone cares. Noone remembers. Everything reminds me of her. Everything screams her presence her lack thereof.

I come on here to confess my sins but never to seek redemption. Never to seek salvation. Maybe i dont want to be saved. Who am I that I cry out to god and expect an answer. Who am I to beg at the feet of people who have never loved me. Ive been listening to gigi Perez lately. At the beach in every life. There are few people I would want at the beach in every life. I was at the mcdicks and I saw the fog at 3 am and I remembered. I remembered before my mother died. Walking in the fog. Knowing that I was breaking apart. Letting myself. I want to quit. My father will support me as long as I say the right things. My entire life has been about saying the right things. I think thats why I fear foreign languages so much. What if I cant say the right things. What if it comes out all wrong and im 7 again crying to my other because I misspoke and she misunderstood me and now I must pay. There is no penance in life anymore merely absolution. Is that the right word? Absolution? Yes. Yes it is. Absolution. I work hard to be better. Id love to think im succeeding.

She called me. Her voice was shaky. She thought I could come help her. I cant. I cant help any of them. I cant save them, it doesnt get better. It just turns into waking up in a guys bed vaguely remembering how you got there but you didnt even take any drugs yet. Whats that julien baker lyric about waking up in the wolves den again? Thats how summer has been. I think its how life is going for teyla rn. Its hard. We both search for something we cant yet have. Stability. A foundation. Its no surprise her favorite whore is grant, because hes a father. And its no surprise mine is a man who used to be a bartender and now just fucks around in life and grills and drinks. I want to be more though. I want to be so much more. I want to be a man people can trust and rely on. I dont want to be the type of men I fuck. I hate everything about them. Eventually I will change. I will grow. "One day I am gonna grow wings" type beat or smt. I want shia to see it. I want my mom to see it. I want Sarah to see it. The women in my life draw me into an asteroid belt and hurt me until I resemble something that can be loved.

I keep thinking about the January OD. It sucks I have to put months on it because its happened so many times. I keep thinking about how confused I was. How you held onto me, how I wanted to fight but I didnt want to fight you. Because it was you. I remember how big that room was. I remember looking at you and hearing the voice of someone I dont care to remember anymore. I remember seeing you and beam in those goddamn chairs looking exhausted. I remember thinking I should've taken 50 instead. Im glad I didnt. Im glad I didnt. I remember seeing you in that hospital bed and thinking to myself that you didnt deserve this. I remember your voice on the phone telling me to turn around and wondering if this is how I sounded as I drove to callahan that night. Im listening to your songs right now. I miss you. Im sorry. You should have never had to see me in that hospital bed but you've never once held it against me. instead you've just HELD me. And you held me in that car that night as the cops and paramedics talked to me. And you've held me countless other times. I used to think id never let someone touch me like that again after shia, after allison. Because it only ended badly. No matter who it was, I used to be terrified of touch. Julien Baker has a song about that. Faith healer. Something something, ill believe anything if you touch me. Thats how i am. I trust you though. I cling to comfort like a child ripped from its mother. Because thats what I am. Eh, thats inaccurate. I was never "ripped" from my mother. Just neither of them chose to be there for me. And now im all weird with attachment and think you'll hate me for me breathing. And yet you never have. Everytime I meet you with vicious vile words it feels like you search my soul and find whatever bits of kindness I have and remind me of them.

The first time by damiano David is playing. Yet again I lay here in their hoodie. Its comforting. Their, wait, lemme see, 256 miles away. 4 hour drive. I miss them. I miss everyone. I keep fucking random guys on grindr. I dont want to, I dont know why I do it. Im finally comfortable in my skin ig??? So I have to let it be used??? Idk. Got alot of stuff there to unpack. Shia made me feel like I was nothing before her. So many thoughts im not ready to unpack this was a good chat I miss my mom I miss everyone. Im scared about my scholarships. Its whatever. Ill die or won't. Idk yet. I dont wanna die for once. It'd suck to finally get on T and die.

I am digital, I am divine is on loop. What is it about songs about things ending that have my heart? Eh, who am I kidding, i know the answer that question. I love the idea of things ending. I love the idea of my life ending. I cant succeed here in the traditional way. But I want to stick around. I want a life with rowan. Maybe that's horrible, and evil, but like, idk. For the first time a friendship actually feels like a glove. Like a hug. Like HOME. I cry over spilled milk alot. I had to. Growing up spilling things meant getting hurt. Jojo siwa just posted. What a weird person. Sometimes I wonder if other people have sat alone in their dorm thinking about how much they've failed in everything they've done. I just have to make it through this year. I'll tell my dad that I'm a man and im going to kms and that I'm not meant to stick around. I'll get on T and I'll live a long life alongside rowan and I'll die tomorrow and I'll die in 10 years and I'll die tonight. My laundry goes off in 10 minutes. There is something so exquisite about being eternal and finite. Technically I am eternal until proven otherwise. So of course I've spent my life trying to prove otherwise. Ive spent a lifetime waiting to live; trying to die. I want this though. I want 4 years of shenanigans, I want 4 years of clouds and beam and white boy and rowan. I want four years of waking up next to rowan, rolling over to see their face, knowing that the person beside me loves me.

Its 818 pm. I dont know what to say, but I know I need to say something. It's hard being away from them, chalk it up to abandonment issues, attachment issues, whatever you want to say. I can do/go about my life fine without them, but it does feel like the world just has like, a grey filter. Or gray? Idk, what's the difference, one is definitely british. I feel bad. Gross. Evil. Cruel. For letting myself be attached to them. We watched thunderbolts on May 1st. I'm regrettably very much so Bob. He definitely has bpd. Idk what I'm gonna do this summer. I'll have to re-isolate my thinking. Like back to the whole "i am one man. I am alone. Noone cares, I do not care. Nothing matters. I am who I am" type beat. Idk. It'll be fineee, it's whatever. It won't be fine and it's not whatever, I think summer will break me because I'll have finally found home and it's gone again. But whateverrrr

Since I was a child I have begged God to allow me to just talk to my family without lies. Like I wanna talk to my sister about being a man, have my dad accept me, tell Nathan, tell my grandmother, tell my mom. I just wanna talk to my mom and sister and have them accept me. And then comes along this random ass stranger, and they talk, and they love and they speak, and they understand and they accept me. They are more family than ive ever had before. Yet I still just want my family man. I'm sat on a park bench crying because I just wanna talk to my mom. Even though in NO universe would that ever help or fix anything. No matter how old you are your always gonna want your mother's love. And your never gonna get it. My sister's probably at the point where I could tell her, but honestly she'll just blame it on mental illness, tell me I don't know what I'm talking about and ignore me. I need to visit my grandma this Saturday. I need gas in my car tho first. There's this lyric from sasha Allen that's all like "im barely a boy I'm the blood in the test tube" and like, I fear that's how my sister would view me. But she knows, she has to know. I wonder if she talks about me. I wonder if she thinks about me. I wonder if she worries. I do. I worry about her. I'll probably never see her again. So, why should I care what she thinks? Idk. I just want my family man. And now im crying on a park bench. I should listen to fletcher. I dont know my sister anymore. I grew up with her and I don't know her. Did I ever? I was a mess as a kid and im a mess now. I love crying in public. Noone will ask and noone will look and everyone's uncomfortable. A different type of isolation. There's a measure of acceptance from passersby that i never even got from my family. Sarah pushed shove it down, my mom pushed beat it out of yourself. My dad wasn't around even to push anything. I was always his "tough" one. Not the princess and not one of his fragile sons. He didn't love me more for this but he could deal with me more because of it. I think I got the crying out. I'm great at crying silently. If noone can hear you it's harder to acknowledge it. I'm waiting on Rowan. They've been so kind to me. Last night I was, evil. Cruel. I dont know how to move forward without them hurting me as like, retribution, or like, payment. That's what's hard. There's this saying about demanding a pound of flesh for crimes. They've never demanded that. It's hard. I was raised with, you hurt you get hurt, and that's easy. Its over quick. This requires work and learning and growth and changing and I would do that and a lifetime more for the people around me but God its so much harder. Anyways, time to go get shot up the ass,