‘If You’re The Only One Who Knows The Truth, only You Can Hurt Yourself’

Told myself I wouldn’t post before the thing I wrote for xmas, but here we are…

I think I’m in love with someone I shouldn’t know how to be. And it’s driving me fucking crazy. It’s only you. And when you’re venting at 7:32, telling me how much you just wanna die, I think I lose a part of myself. I’m listening to that band we both like, unromanticizing all the shit I used to dream about. This is your second favorite song by them. It’s my favorite cause it makes me think about you. I like your company. That’s all I can say without giving myself away. Cause if I was honest, I’d say step off the ledge. Why? Cause I fucking love you man. Maybe you don’t care (about me and/or you). Maybe you don’t even like me. But if you kill yourself, I don’t think I’ll ever really breathe in again. You’re the best friend I’ve (n)ever had. 

I’m 17?? What the fuck.

best friends, ex-friends ‘til the end. better off as lovers (not the other way around.)

You get out of the hospital again. I’ve been worried sick. I’ve left you a dozen messages. What do you do? Do you call? Text? Tell me you’re home safe? No, you go to fucking Disneyworld while I’m worried sick, scared that the man I love is hurting. Scared that you might never come home. So I can’t forgive you for this. Not that you’ll apologize anyway. I spill my guts to you, I tell you the hell I’ve gone through, and you only acknowledge our two-month anniversary. I tell you everything hurts and you recite lyrics from a 2010 radio hit. You tell me you love me and it feels hollow and empty. 

Maybe your mom is controlling, but you’re the one who won’t make any efforts to see me. I’d walk through hell for you, and you won’t even call me back. I’m not even tired of your shit like I was before. I’m just angry. You’re so distant I can’t even get you on the phone to tell you I don’t think this will work out. Better off as friends, that’s how I’ll put it. But the truth is worse, because it’s true that truth hurts. You can’t even care enough to get up off your ass and do something, anything to get to see me. And I can’t be the only person in this relationship willing to do everything. I hate your favorite color and your favorite singer now. I hate your stupid, pretty face and your last name. I hate your bleached hair and hazel eyes. I hate the way I look at you. I hate that it hurts so much to say goodbye. I hate that it hurts so much to love you. 

tree of grackles

I’m 99% sure these are all mine. The one percent is the NASA photo (I’ve been there but I can’t remember if I took it.)

I did the blackout poem and the drawings. The sheet ghost is me as a kid. The pigeons are from when I was in Vegas. That was great. I don’t see pigeons very often. They’re one of my favorite animals. Also my hand is there with my fall out boy bracelet.

@youreyesaremyfavoritecolor tagged me, so shoutout to them <3 (you’re awesome and this made me actually do something today)

i’m in a winter mood, (i’m) dreamin’ of spring now

i miss sitting in the back of a pickup truck with my best friend. playing in the mud and making swords out of sticks. boys will be boys (until one of them’s a queer). We were like family until i came out was outed. if you read this i think you’d know who you are. cause you said i was your only friend and then spat in my face the next day. that awful day. all i wanted was for things to stay the same. all i want is my childhood back. please. my lips are bloody and my knuckles are bruised. i’m the same person i was back then, so why the hell don’t i mean the same thing i used to mean to you?

I miss my Coke Zero so much 😩.. why don’t I have any 😿‼️what the fucj !!!

about ~yours truly~

Spencer. Sleep-deprived—slightly unstable—writer and ‘boy loser,’ (as the homie calls me.) I’m the world’s number one, professional oversharer.

This is basically just poetry and ramblings about my life and feelings. (Mostly ramblings, let’s be honest.) I AM an ally to communities im not a part of, so keep bigot shit off my blog.

I’m obsessed with a lot of bands and tv shows. Saw My Chem on October 19th & 20th, 2024. If you don’t like hello kitty, gtfo. I have a side blog, @number-one-castiel-apologist, where I talk about supernatural. A lot. Like a fuckton. So yeah. stay fuckin freaky man ;)

xo <3

For My Father

For you, my Father, if you came back, I would leave something cooking on the stove. I’d let the smell fill the house so it’d be like you were here, making dinner while I watched cartoons. I would take the sweaty, stinky, athletic clothes you used to wear running and leave them in annoying places so Mom would lecture you the way she always did. It would be like you never left. We would still be a family. 

When you come home, I would buy the things you liked to eat. I’d put things on our table for you, like the odd-smelling ‘’healthy’’ foods, the gluten free bread that always tasted like sand, and the fig newtons that always made me think of you. I would hear the sound of you opening the door again. Coming home from work, you always greeted us with a smile, even though sometimes, even as a child, I could tell it wasn't real.

I’d leave your blue and green, size thirteen running shoes by the door for you. You could put them on and go for a run around the neighborhood like you used to. Then you’d come back home and spend the evening with us. We would sit and talk, just to be father and son again. I’d set aside everything you ever did if it meant I could get closure one last time. You’d tell me and mom that you always loved us, and all the bad things never mattered. I’d look at your crow’s feet, and see my own eyes staring back at me. I’d see myself in you, an older version of me, but still one in the same. Those same brown eyes.

When you died, I was young enough that I still called you Daddy. Now the memories are distant like you were and I call you ‘my Father’, but if you came back, I’d call you Dad, for old times sake. I’d let you hug me, and we could pretend we were a perfect, happy family. God knows we were far from it, but nobody ever died trying (except maybe you.) 

I’ll tell you who I am now, what my life is like. I hope you’ll say you were proud of me. If you don’t, that’s okay. I’ve managed this long without you. I think I can manage the rest of my life. I’m resilient. I get that from you. So, when the day is done, you’ll go back into the ground you came from, and I’ll be okay. After all, I’m still your son, no matter how much I wish I wasn’t some of these days. Just know that you can rest now. It will all be okay. Goodnight, Dad.