ollie

ABOUT ME!!

helloooo!! my name is Oliver and this is just like a random shit re-blog account bcuz idk how to use tumblr that much (i got it bcuz of my boyfriend LMAO)

my pronouns are he/zae and im a queer individual that is also in the disabled and neurodivergent community!!

other stuff!! -

* age : 18

* special interests : spider-man, kpop

* boyfriend <3 : @sharkboy711

anyways hope this page is fun to look at :DD

https://en.pronouns.page/@ollieolive.b7 !!

Can you laugh at my stupid jokes, the ones that don’t land but still ask for your smile?

Can you listen to my story without wandering off, without thinking of what comes next? Just hear me, even if the words fumble.

Can you sit with my silence without pity, without filling the gaps with your own noise?

Can you hold me, not too tight, not too loose, just enough to feel human, without making me shrink?

Can you hug me when the words fall short, when nothing else seems to fit?

Can you be here, without needing a reason, without needing to fix or change or move?

Can you stay, not because I asked, but because you chose to?

But stars, as promises, as dreams, as stories... are deemed to watch their light become a distant memory.

Therefore I cry.

Therefore I implore.

Oh gods from unknown realms, grant me the eternity of the poets.

Oh entities from beyond our dreams, allow my poor words to transcend time and myself.

For I am ready to depart this world, but I can't let these words get erased as I walk away from life.

I have no respect nor value for myself, but I do love the stories and poems I manage to create.

As pathetic as I am, I can still write.

i left for college two years ago. i only come back for holidays and the odd weekend when i miss my father’s cooking and the smell of my mom’s shampoo. i know that whenever i do, i can be sure to find either a pomegranate or a tomato waiting for me.

i tried my first pomegranate after my best friend stopped talking to me in 10th grade. i used a knife to crack open the rough shell of the fruit, clawing the seeds out with my bare hands. i looked like i had murdered someone. but the raw act of scraping the juice out from under my fingernails was healing. my family knows this. and there will always be a pomegranate waiting for me when i come home.

i always eat the tomatoes off of my salads first. my dad showed me how he ate tomatoes when he was younger, with some salt and rolled up sleeves. now i bend over the sink, with a tomato as big as my palm, and a salt shaker on standby, and the memory of my father stuck in my head. my family knows this. and there will always be a tomato waiting for me when i come home.