no i am just lonely on friday nights

Hey guys! So, I wanted to make this post for a long time. Sometimes we are our own enemies and it’s so easy to get caught in fighting against yourself, and I want to be a new person and become someone that is content with who they are. A part of me wants to look back on this when I am feeling bad again and read everything I have written here, like a little reminder of my own, you know? With that, I hope you walk away feeling okay and content, like I hope to do, because that is my goal: for all of us to be okay with ourselves and our lives even on days when it feels like it won’t be.

Be proud of your art, because it matters.

Whatever you choose to create, know that is great and you should not look to others to find what is inside of yourself. So often, it is as if you look around and feel you are not good enough, because you may feel you are behind the curve of others you admire. But, in a way, that is perfectly okay to be behind the curve. Every writer, artist, poet, dancer, and singer did not start with an abundance of skill. They worked at what they loved to create to become your inspiration. Take personal notes from them and find who you want to be as a creator, on your own terms. And down the line, when you become who you want to be, you can become someone else’s inspiration. Where that begins is being proud of what you create, and finding the confidence within you to be your own great writer, your own great singer, or your own great poet. First and foremost, be your own inspiration. Be your first inspiration because it matters. Create your art because it matters.

It is okay to be alone.

For the longest time, alone and lonely have been exclusive to each other. And that is not true. Loneliness sucks. It is one of the worst feelings to have nobody to truly reach out to when you have a bad day, or even a great day. Loneliness is the feeling when you walk around and feel as though you are the only one in the world without someone to share your stories with, your words, your passions. But, aside from the pain of being lonely, you have the opportunity to be alone with yourself and love it. Find what makes you great on your own. I am not saying that you should not be understandably upset because you are lonely, but maybe it is a sign that you need to become the best version of yourself first. Find what is making you unhappy alone, and change it. That way, when you meet others, you will be the greatest you possible. Just remember, it is okay to be alone. It is okay to be alone at home on a Friday night, to eat at a restaurant alone, and to go to a movie alone. The best company is yourself, because nobody can or will know you better than you.

Don’t doubt your positivity/optimism.

There were so many moments in 2016 that questioned your faith, your beliefs, your hope, and your optimism. With everything that went wrong, personally or externally, it was hard to feel the space of your comfort being shaken, but that’s okay. You stayed strong through to this year, and that is what is important. Be optimistic for the future. Do not believe hope ends when there are moments of doubt and struggle. See the good in people, in unfortunate events, in life. Sometimes that space of comfort needs to be stirred to rattle that optimism inside you, to light the fire that keeps you optimistic, and to motivate you. So let it be stirred. Keep that fire alive.

It is okay to fail, or not achieve perfection.

Perfection is impossible. Nobody is perfect. You may look at someone from the outside and see perfection, but there is always something someone is fighting, no matter how small or big that thing is. And I understand. Failing sucks. It is horrible to feel inadequate at something or feel less than because you slipped and fell. It’s as though you can’t get up without the shadow of that failure beside you. Don’t believe in that. Your failures and imperfections are there to remind you that you are simply you and there is nobody in the world who does something once and instantly gets it right. That is impossible, just like perfection. Nobody is instantly great at everything they try at. And that is the whole point of failure: the act of trying. If you’re trying, you’re doing something.

Who you are throughout your life is not completely defined by what is out there.

I am talking about strangers, celebrities, media, and even family and friends. You are not your parents, or your friends, or celebrities. You have tons of opportunities to be your own person, with your own thoughts and feelings about what is going on around you. You have a way to make in the world, and it is only made through where you choose to go. Nothing in a magazine, movie, or someone else’s words can or should change how you feel about yourself, or change who you are as a person. When you wake up, you are yourself, so it is important to know who you are and not let things outside of your own influence take you down. It’s unhealthy and a disservice to yourself. Don’t rely so much on what is outside of yourself, because you live in one set of skin your whole life. Don’t spend it worrying about fitting into a box created by something or someone else.

They are out there.

Yes, they. The people that will understand you and love who you are. They will find you, or you will find them. It may take a bit of waiting, but it will be worth it. Maybe “they” are friends, or significant others, or maybe even family, but the point is to know that you won’t be alone forever. You’re not gonna keep your emotions, your passions, or your thoughts inside of yourself forever. You’ll find the ones that will be glad to listen, who will love to hear from you, and will be glad you are beside them. Like I said, it may take some waiting, but nothing worthwhile is instantly gratified.

You won’t notice it.

You won’t realize things have changed until they have already been changed. While sadness seems to remind you of its presence, happiness can blindside us. Once you’ve achieved what you want to achieve and done the things you’ve set out to do, you won’t understand it has gotten better and you have moved on until you’re already moving. As I said before, be patient; instant gratification is never as good as people say it feels. That moment where you look back and realize you’re in a better place than before is coming, and it’s gonna feel fucking great.

There will be shitty times. But, you are gonna be okay.

It’s easy to fall into believing things won’t be okay. Maybe it’s the day you’ve been having, or the people around you are bringing you down. And yes, things will be shitty for awhile. Whether that “awhile” is a few minutes, a few days, or a few months. But, you should not forget things will be okay, and you are gonna be okay. You have everything you need inside of yourself, even if it feels like you don’t in those shitty moments. Don’t let yourself fall into a space where you believe you won’t be okay, because you will. Things will be okay. For all of my hallmark advice and words that could be put on a self-help card, you will find the friends, moments, and everything in between that will remind you it all will be okay.

I Love You So Much

Originally posted by hypehope

I’m in my feels. The imagine is based off of this song. 

Warning: Legit like one tiny sex scene nothing to worry about. Hella sad bc I’m sad :))

I’m sorry I’m busy
And, don’t make the time
For the things you ask from me

You happily knocked on Stiles door, glad to final have a sliver of time to see your amazing boyfriend. Sheriff Stilinski opened the door, frowning. 
“Y/N, hi. What are you doing here?” 

“Um. I’m here to see stiles.” You offered a small grin. The Sheriff nodded, opening the door wider so you could step through. “Surprise.” You smiled, covering Stiles’ eyes. 

His posture was tense, but he soon relaxed into your touch. “Y/N.” He mumbled, shaking your hands off. 

“Hi.” You said, a small smile still on your face. You flopped onto his bed, savoring the smell of him. “So I was thinking we could go to that fall festival, they’ll have food and like loads of games and -”

“I can’t.” Stiles grumbled, continuing to do research on his computer. 

“What? But…But I thought we could hang out, ya know get away from all this supernatural stuff, ya know?”

“I don’t have time.”

You groaned quietly. “I’m sure you have time to take off one night. I mean, it’s the fall festival! We’ve gone every year and-”

“I said I don’t have time!” Stiles’ tense voice filled the room with tension. “I don’t have time to waste on a stupid fall festival, Y/N.” He sighed, tugging on his brown locks.

You stood up, looking towards the door. “Okay.”

If I take care of you,

 who’s gonna take care of me

I could just say take care and leave

But I love how you stare at me

You couldn’t take it anymore, you couldn’t take Stiles just blowing you off to help Scott or help the pack. You felt like you were always second, hell sometimes third. 

You were always the one taking care of Stiles, making sure he was happy, his needs were satisfied and that he never felt like he was alone. But you were tired, tired of doing flips and tricks for him but him never even taking a step for you. 

You were done. 100% done with Stiles’ bullshit, and you were gonna tell him that once and for all. You marched right up to the Stilinski house and just walked right in, didn’t even knock. You were beyond tired. Marching up the stairs, you slammed Stiles’ door open. 

He was facing his dresser, trying to tie a dark red tie, but was obviously struggling. “Y/N?” Stiles caught your eye in the mirror and turned towards you, smiling lightly. “Uh.. hey. I was just getting ready to pick you up, ya know, for a surprise date.” He blushed.

And just like that, when he had the goofy smile and soft look, all your anger was down the drain.

I stay cause I’m scared to leave

I’m not prepared to be

Lonely without you see

That just won’t feel right

I need you in my life

It was times like this when you wondered ‘why the hell am I still with him?’. When you lying in your bed alone, eyes puffy from crying. You hadn’t seen Stiles in a week, no calls, hardly any texts. It was like he didn’t even care. Why were you still with him? 

As your red eyes drooped shut, the answer hit you like a truck. 

You didn’t wanna be alone, you didn’t want to be lonely. Sure you had friends, the pack, but Stiles was yours. Without Stiles’ you’d spend Friday nights alone. Who was gonna binge watch Star Wars with you and quote the whole damn movie? Stiles. 

Who was gonna pull you out of your slump after a bad day at school? Stiles

And who was gonna put you in check when your hormones are raging and you’re throwing a bitch fit? Stiles.

Stiles made the good times even better and the hard times bearable. He balanced everything. 

You needed Stiles.

Out of breath

Out of time

I can’t sleep tonight, no

Bodies pressed together, breaths mingling together. Stiles’ groaned sinfully in your ear as he pulled himself out of you. Stiles pressed a breathless kiss against your temple, his hand resting on your stomach. No words were exchanged as the two of you caught your breath. “Shit.” Stiles cursed as he looked at the clock on your night stand. 

“I’ve gotta go. Pack meeting.” Stiles sighed, kissing your head again before slipping out of the bed. You faced the door, sheets covering your nakedness. Stiles put on his clothes silently before grabbing his phone and heading towards the door. Hand on the doorknob, Stiles turned to gaze at you with sad eyes. His mouth hung open slightly, words wanting to be said. “Sorry.” He mumbled before leaving.

Your head ached and you wondered where everything went wrong. Where all the love went. “Me too.”  

Don’t make me go

Don’t make me 

This was it. This was the time. You sat next to Stiles, jeans rolled up and feet in the lake. It was just past midnight and the grass was dewy. “Stiles.” You said, voice cracking as your chest tightened. 

“I know.” He spoke lowly. “I know we haven’t been the same, but can we fix it. Can we make some agreement, something that would work? I can’t lose you. I love you so much.” Stiles tried, but he knew it was hopeless. 

You shook your head, heartbreaking. “No.” 

So many words wanted to be said but were shushed by sad kisses and broken heart beats. 

Times Fox Mulder Cried

So I reached my mini follower milestone. Hi to all my new followers! I’m revisiting this old series of mine to say thank you to everyone who has read or commented or reblogged my stories.

Special thanks today to @baronessblixen and @lokisgame who consistently comment and reblog and encourage me. 

Part Three

Big Blue was a good excuse for a nice little trip to the water. But he hadn’t banked on that snappy little furball coming along for the ride. Scully was all mock indignation at having her weekend ruined. As if she even liked her weekends. He was pretty sure her home life yawned wide open and empty on a Friday evening, just like his. After their year so far, family deaths, fake alien autopsies, black oil, Modell, god Modell… he thought she might appreciate a weekend away. And this was as close to a weekend away as he could arrange. But that yappy little shit was sitting in the back of the car dominating the conversation and dictating the pace. His jaw ached from all the tooth grinding he was doing and he was pretty sure that vein on his temple was about ready to pop open.

              “Call of nature, I’m afraid, Mulder.”

Her hair swung round in his peripheral vision and as he turned to take her in, it settled back around her face in the way he especially liked. The sun, low now in the late afternoon, framed a halo of flyaway copper hairs. He couldn’t help but smile. She quirked her eyebrow at him.

              “Scully, you’re probably going to tell me exactly how large his bladder is and how many milliliters of urine it can hold.”

She went to open her mouth but he carried on. “And you probably made some calculation about the length of time it takes to fill his bladder against the number of miles we can safely travel before a comfort break.”

Her lips opened again, with a tiny popping sound, that he committed to memory. He held up his hand.

“And you’ve no doubt been careful about his intake of water and researched the number of rest stops along the highway.”

              She frowned now, not even trying to cut in this time.

              “You are the single most organised and prepared person I have ever met and I thank you for that, given the unexpected guest that is currently chewing on the vinyl arm rest in this rental car, but if we can just press on for a little while longer, we will arrive at our destination before the heavens open and I guarantee you that our toilet stops will be far more comfortable.” He turned to her again, offering her what he hoped was his most apologetic, yet understanding smile.

“Fine, Mulder. I can wait.” She lowered her eyebrows along with her voice and he felt suitably told.

Fat drops splattered against the windshield. He watched the window-wipers with great concentration for the rest of the silent journey.

The legend of Big Blue was the stuff of his childhood dreams. When a case involved the potential discovery of a new life-form on earth, rather than the alien beings he knew were still beyond the reach of Scully’s acceptance, he always held dear to the hope that the validation of his life’s work would be so much sweeter with Scully sharing the wonderment with him.

He pulled the umbrella lower, hunching over so that it might keep the rain from causing her hair to frizz. He secretly liked the frizz. It reminded him of that night in Bellefleur, when she lay on his bed listening to him and her hair curled around her face. She always looked younger, less like she’d been to hell and back with him.

He knew he should have been more sympathetic when Queequeg went missing. Her tiny voice when she said, ‘Poor Queequeg’ did something to his nerve endings, and he replayed it over and over in his head just so he could enjoy the delicious feeling it gave him. He knew that was wrong, but he couldn’t help it. He should have hugged her. Or offered to buy her a new dog. Or something equally noble. Instead, he selfishly held on to the smallness of her tone.

As they sat on that rock, neither of them willing to admit how scared they were, but both of them willing to open up a little more than usual, he saw how much she really understood him and how much she didn’t. And he knew it was the same for him. How could two people be so close yet so far apart? How could Scully care more for that damned dog than she seemed to for his ideas? For him? How could he even think that? Was he so self-absorbed? Did he need to ask that, given the lecture she’d just dished out?

Friday night was the same lonely expanse of hours. He sunk his head back on the arm of the couch and prepared to watch Jaws again. The small rap on the door could only be Scully. She had a particular knock. He sniffed under his arms, rubbed his tee-shirt down and flicked off the crumbs from his jeans. He hoped the apartment didn’t smell too much of pepperoni.

              “Hi, not disturbing you, am I?” She slipped by him, relaxed in jeans and sneakers. “Any pizza left?”

              “Help yourself,” he said, pulling the box out of the fridge. “Beer too?”


              “Scully, any minute now you’re going to tell me what that strange looking thing is under your arm.”

              She let out a giggle that caught him off guard. He swallowed the beer, letting the bitter fizz play on his tongue. Scully, beer, pizza and giggles. Friday was suddenly four times better.

              “I got you a present.”

              His heart hammered. “Why?”

              She shrugged. “Just because.”

              He took the gift-wrapped parcel from her, relishing the brief touch of their hands. It was long, weighty. He took it to the couch, patted the seat next to him. She sat, took a dainty mouthful of pizza, smiled at him.

              “A peg-leg. Scully, you shouldn’t have.”

              She moved a little closer, so that he could smell the perfume of her shampoo, see the freckles across her nose, listen to her breathing. “I want you to look at it and understand that you are a whole and wonderful person.”

He opened his mouth but she cut him off.

“That your life is worthwhile, that you are worthy of love.”

His lips dried out but he parted them ready to speak. She held up her hand.

“That your quest is not in vain, that I am here with you. You are making something of your life.”

He sat back, defeated. She took his hands in hers.

“Mulder, you don’t need peg-legs or hooks for hands. You just need to believe.”

 He snorted.

She leaned in close, and whispered. “In yourself.”

He couldn’t sleep. The burning at the corner of his eyes made his nose twitch. He sniffed, shocked at the loudness of the sound in his living room. He turned over and reached under the couch, picking up the peg-leg. He brought it up to his chest and let the tears flow.

Cough Syrup- Calum


Summary: Calum is gay.

“Life’s too short to even care at all, oh, I’m losing my mind losing my mind losing control”

Calum didn’t love girls. In fact, he didn’t even like them. They just reminded him of his adolescence filled with lonely friday nights and empty diner booths. None of which mattered anymore, now that  he and his band 5 Seconds of Summer were skyrocketing in fame. Calum’s life was actually perfect at the moment. He had fame, fortune, friends, and even a crush on a stellar guy he knew.

The thing was, nobody could know that Calum would rather be singing his band’s lovesongs to a boy with crazy hair and light pink lips than to any of the girls that threw themselves at him. So instead, he hid it. He went out and slept around with girls he felt no attachment to, and held his true feelings under the mask that fame had tied to him.

But then one day people found out.

The band was just out at a club in whatever city they had played that night, and Calum was practically blind drunk. All his thoughts felt delayed, and he couldn’t think about what was really happening around him. Before he knew it he had strayed from the company of his bandmates, and was wandering around the dance floor.

The beat of one of the radio’s meaningless rap songs surrounded Calum’s senses, fueling the adrenaline that was slowly replacing the sluggishness left from the alcohol. Soon he felt more excited than he had in awhile, and he was thinking about how he wanted one thing: a guy. Any guy he could find to put his hands on.

It only took a few moments for people to start surrounding Calum, most of which were overly made up girls with boobs pushed up to their noses’. Calum started to roll his hips to the beat, lettings the girls around him grind on him, their phones recording. Calum didn’t care though, because as he did so his eyes locked with a mysterious boy with thick lips and bad intentions.

Calum immediately danced away from the group, wincing as some greedy hands grabbed sensitive places. Moments later Calum was dancing near the boy he had saw, the boy inching closer and closer to Calum to the rhythm of the music. Calum smiled darkly as the boy’s body collided with his, the contact sending electric shocks through Calum’s aching body.

“Names, André,” The boy whispered against Calum’s ear, a hispanic accent rolling off his tongue.

Calum was instantly seduced, the large amount of beer in his system controlling his actions. One thing led to another, and soon they were both rushing out of the club, desperate to get somewhere private where their hands could roam where the eyes couldn’t see. In his drunken horny haze, Calum had forgotten who he was, and the reputation he had to uphold.

But it all came back to his mind when he stepped outside the club doors, the lights of cameras and the shouts of paparazzi filling his senses. He tried to escape the mob, but they had already seen him. The real him. The one was in love with boys, and sometimes just wanted to act upon this love.

The world knew Calum Hood was gay.

“These fishes in the sea they’re staring at me oh oh, Oh oh oh oh, A wet world aches for a beat of a drum, Oh”

Calum woke up in his hotel room, with a pounding headache. He groaned instinctively, realizing he had a hangover. He rolled over to find an empty bed, and was slightly surprised. Normally on nights out with the boys he came home with at least one random girl. Calum sat up, rubbing his eyes and reaching for his phone. He turned it on to find millions- no billions of notifications. There were texts from almost every person in his contacts list, including many from his management.

He sighed unlocking the phone and reading the messages. A confused look grew on his face as he was sent many links to news articles. He clicked on at random, to be met with a picture of himself and a random hispanic dude both of which had swollen lips and hickey’s littering their neck’s. Calum’s heart fell as the realization of what was happening started to sink in. He read some more messages from friends and even his sister, questioning whether it was true. It was like all hell had come crashing down on his head.

Everyone knew. Even twitter had blown up, many hashtags trending. Most of the fans were supportive, they’d always hope one of the band member were gay anyways. Calum smiled at all the positive comments, despite the tears of fear running down his cheeks. He always knew the fans would support him, even after keeping it a secret for so long.

Calum felt semi-confident about the situation now, and threw his legs over the bed in excitement. Now that the secret was out, he didn’t have anything to hide. It was like a burden had been lifted off his shoulders. He smiled brightly when he changed into a sweatshirt and shorts, heading downstairs to meet the boys at the hotel’s breakfast.

As soon as Calum reached the elevator, he felt his mood begin to fall. He was in the elevator with Ashton, and all he did was stare at Calum. Ashton turned away, staring at the floor as the elevator rode downwards, completely ignoring Calum’s existence. It was like Calum was some sort of alien that needed to be feared and ignored. When they both arrived at the table to eat breakfast with the rest of the boys, they acted no different. Luke stared down into his food, like it was the most interesting thing on the planet. Michael attempted to smile at Calum, but it looked more like a grimace. Breakfast was silent, and sullen which made Calum lose his appetite. He felt like a burden on them, something holding them back from talking to each other.

Finally Calum broke the silence, unable to handle it anymore.

“Is everything okay?” He asked, worry and fear lacing his voice.

“I don’t know man, you tell me,” Luke responded quickly, his voice cruel.

Calum was taken aback by Luke’s tone, and finally realized how angry everyone really was. Ashton’s fists were clenched around his glass, and Michael tapped his leg angrily.

“It was just some boy,” Muttered Calum, forcibly shoving some dry toast in his mouth.

Ashton snapped, his attention on Calum.

“Some boy that makes the fans think we sleep around like scumbags!” He yelled, throwing his hands in the air.

“You guys do the same thing with girls all the fucking time!” Calum fought back, recalling all the tabloids that had ever been published with some slutty girl on the boys’ hip.

“That different,” Muttered Luke, avoiding eye contact.

Calum scoffed, getting up from the table. He stormed off towards the hotel lobby, desperate for some air to clear his head. He heard footsteps come after him, but he ignored them. He pushed through the front doors of the hotel to be met with screams of fans and paparazzi.

Calum sighed annoyed, realizing for the second time in the last 24 hours that he was in fact a “celebrity”.

Calum was blinded by all the flashing lights, and all he could hear was the sounds of paparazzi shouting things at him. It was all blurring together and Calum felt a sense of panic filling his chest. However,the words of a particularly loud interviewer rang out, grabbing Calum’s attention.

“Is it true you are gay Calum?”

Calum heard himself let out a soft yes, causing all the sounds and flashes cease. It was like a spell had entranced everyone, and they stared at him with dead wide eyes, like fish. Calum looked around at everyone, expecting them to unfreeze and continue like in a movie.

But to his dismay they all stayed still, staring at him. Calum’s heart started to race, his eyes looking in every direction to be met with a pair staring right back at him. It was like a horror movie, but there was no way to turn it off. Calum’s breath began to come out fast and labored, like he was running out of oxygen. He felt like everything was closing in on him, like the eyes were slowly creeping closer and closer. Calum backed up against the door of the hotel, attempting to grab his bearings, but everything was spinning, the eyes swarming him like tiny bugs. His mind felt like it had melted, and the eyes no longer belonged to people, but were an animal of their own. They were in his hair and covering his feet, and they filled his mouth until he couldn’t breath.

Calum thought he was going to be suffocated by the flying eyes when a hand grabbed his, dragging him back into the hotel lobby.

“If I could find a way to see this straight, I’d run away, To some fortune that I, I should have found by now”

Calum stared at the ceiling of the hotel, his mind spinning. He gasped for breath, his hand clutching onto the one of the person who had grabbed him. It took a few minutes for Calum’s breathing to become regular, and his mind to slow down. He felt everything in his body calm and he turned to be met with the green eyes of Michael. He looked worried, staring at Calum as if he had a seen a ghost.

When Michael realized Calum had stabilized, he let go of his hand, backing up a bit. Calum felt a pang of hurt in his chest, but sat up slowly.

“What just happened?” Calum questioned, convinced what he just saw wasn’t real.

“I don’t know, you left angrily and next thing I know you’re pressed up against the hotel doors like a fish out of water or something,” Michael said, still weary of being close to Calum.

Calum stood up, regaining his grip on reality. He looked at Michael, a boy whom yesterday was his best friend. Michael looked concerned, but also scared. Calum wasn’t sure if he was scared for Calum’s health or scared of Calum.

“Are you scared?” Calum asked, walking closer to Michael.

Michael fidgeted a bit, his eyes focused on the decreasing space between them.

“I’m scared for your health yeah. You literally almost passed out there dude.”

Calum kept walking, so his face was mere inches from Michael’s. Michael looked incredibly uncomfortable, like Calum was going to rub off a disease on him.

“Say it to my face then,” Calum said, his eyes looking straight into Michael’s.

Michael backed away from Calum, silent. Calum let out a sigh, confirming his belief that he was scared. Scared of what, Calum still couldn’t understand, but he knew he was scared. Calum turned away from Michael, remembering why he had even gone outside in the first place.

This time, Calum went out the back of the hotel, with sunglasses and a thick beanie hiding his identity. He walked down the sidewalk of the city he still didn’t know the name of, admiring the plain beauties of his surroundings. He smiled as he saw couples in restaurant booths, and laughed at the mime desperate for money on the street corner. Calum liked how simple everything was around him, people just being people.

Calum’s thoughts wandered as he took in the city, to what could have been. Without the fame who was Calum Hood? Was he just a simple boy meant to work in a coffee shop his entire life? Or was he meant to travel the world, discovering the real meaning of why humans walked the earth the way they do. Oh, how Calum longed for a life without cameras and gossip.

He could see it in his mind as he walked. He would be an author, who instead of putting his feelings to songs, would put his feelings into books. He would tell stories of coffee shop romances, and of star crossed lovers who would do anything for one last kiss. Calum smiled at the idea. He wished he could turn back time, and do it all different. Live a life where he could be himself, and be free of judgement.

Calum wished he could just run away from it all and start again.

“Life’s too short to even care at all, oh, oh, I’m coming up now, coming up now out of the blue, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, these zombies in the park they’re looking for my heart, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, A dark world aches for a splash of the sun,”

Calum was broken from his thoughts and fantasies by spotting a park ahead. He walked towards it, beckoned by the sounds of dogs barking and children laughing. Upon entering the park Calum found a bench, and decided to sit and people watch. He hoped it would make him feel better, since his walk had definitely boosted his mood significantly.

Calum relaxed into the bench, his attention immediately being grabbed by some boys skateboarding. They laughed like nothing mattered to them in the world, and they didn’t care about the disapproving looks the adults around them were giving. Calum admired them, the way they didn’t care about judgement. Calum felt a surge of confidence race through him, and he walked over to the group.

“Hey can I try?” Calum asked, trying his best to hide his Australian accent.

The boys nodded and one handed him one of their skateboards. Calum got on it easily, his skills from grade school kicking in. He sped through the park, the other boys laughing and skating after him. A dopey grin spread across Calum’s face as the wind hit him. He didn’t seem to notice when the beanie fell off his head, and his sunglasses fell off his face. He stopped when he reached a pond on the other side of the park, thanking the skateboarders. They smiled and left, probably off to disappoint their parents or something.

Calum’s mood felt boosted as he stood in front of the pond, just reminiscing in the feeling of freedom that had washed over him. It was like a small taste of everything he had ever wanted, and he didn’t want to let it fade quite yet.

A tap on his shoulder made Calum turn, to be face with a girl who looked about his age.

“Hey, are you Calum Hood?” She asked, batting her eyelashes.

“Um, yeah,” Calum said, bracing himself for hugs and pictures.

Instead the girl laughed cruelly before responding, “How’s it feel to have destroyed your band because your a fag.”

Calum was taken aback by what the girl said, angry at her words.

“I’m not a fag,” Calum said, disgusted.

“Oh did I hurt your poor gay feelings?” The girl sneered.

Calum felt rage bubble in his veins. He hated this girl, and her stupid slurs. It was a new feeling to Calum, the feeling that he just wanted to crush her small head in his muscular arms. It blinded his judgement, and without think he lunged at her, tackling her to the ground. He threw a few punches to her small frame, before stopping abruptly. He met eyes with the girl, whose nose was red and had blood dripping from it. She looked so afraid of him, just like Michael had. Calum climbed off her, ashamed of what he had just done.

He saw people starting to stare again, this time their bodies moving slowly towards him, like zombies. Calum felt his brain turning to putty again, and heart started to race. He turned, afraid of himself and the people around him, and ran back towards the city. He pulled up the hood of his sweatshirt, having lost the beanie and tried to blend with the crowd of people sitting on the sidewalk. Calum walked for a while, trying to control his breathing. He couldn’t understand anything anymore. He knew there were haters out there, he’d always had them.

Why did it hurt so much more now?

“And so I run now to the things they said could restore me, Restore life the way it should be, I’m waiting for this cough syrup to come down”

To say Calum felt bad was an understatement. He barely knew who he was anymore. He had lost his best friends, had completely broken down twice, and punched a girl within the last couple of hours. On top of all that, it had started to downpour, and Calum didn’t have a clue where he was. He sighed, trying to pull his hoodie tighter around him, trying to keep his now shivering body somewhat warm. After walking for about an hour, he gave up and dunked into a random store. He was met with what looked like a pharmacy, but it was completely empty except for a middle aged man who sat behind a register.

“Can I help you with something?” The man asked, a bored expression on his face.

Calum shrugged, walking over to where the guy stood.

“I don’t know anymore, my entire body feels like a sack of rocks.”

The man let out a dry chuckle, reaching for a bottle from the display in front of him.

“Judging by the sound of your raspy voice, you have a cold. Here’s some cough syrup, but be careful dude– an overdose of this will fry your brain”

Calum took the bottle turning it over in his hands. Now that he thought of it, he did feel an uncomfortable tingling in his throat. He paid for the cough syrup, taking it and heading to the nearest motel he could find. He couldn’t be bothered with finding the hotel anymore anyways.

He checked into a rundown motel that smelled of mold and sweat, and sat on the stiff bed staring at the wall. Calum’s body ached of fatigue and sickness, and all he really wanted was to sleep for a very long time. He took some of the cough syrup, pouting his lips at the tangy taste of cherry it left in his mouth. Calum hated cherry. He tried to lay down, his body tired but couldn’t get his mind to quiet down. All he could think about was the things he had seen today. The people staring at him like dead fish, the fear in Michael’s eyes, and the people that looked at him like zombies.

Each image flashed through his head like a movie, every time it repeated worst than the last.

Fish, Eyes, Zombies.

It was like a chant his brain was making. It made his head pound to the rhythm his heart was beating, and he couldn’t stop it. Calum laid on the motel bed completely numb, wishing his brain would just shut up. All he wanted was for it to stop, because the more he thought about it, the more he hated himself. He hated how the paparazzi stared at him like he should be ashamed of himself. He hated how the people in the park stared at him, like he was deranged and crazy.

Most of all, he hated how the boy who he called his best friend, who he had loved since he was 14 years old, and who he wrote every single damn love song about, couldn’t even look him in the eyes without fearing him. Fearing Calum.

Calum felt like a monster, someone that was dangerous and couldn’t be controlled, and it consumed his every thought.

“One more spoon of cough syrup now, whoa. One more spoon of cough syrup now, whoa.”

Calum sat up, his eyes practically blinded by the pain he felt in his head. He only had one objective in his mind, shutting his brain off. He wanted it all to stop. He wanted to stop thinking and feeling.

He didn’t want to be alive anymore.

Calum reached aimlessly for the cough syrup, his hands gripping the bottle tightly when he found it on the bedside table. He unscrewed the cap haphazardly, drinking as much of it he could before his mind started blanking and stopping. He body twitched painfully, and the bottle fell from Calum’s shaking hands, shattering on the floor.

Calum forced his body to lay back on the bed, his eyes staring up at the ceiling as waves of pain washed over him like tidal waves. The pain soon ceased though, and everything felt heavy. Calum stared upward, realizing that he wasn’t only shutting down his mind, he was shutting down his body.

He was dying.

Calum didn’t care though, in fact he felt relieved.

Afterall, what’s the point of being alive, if you can’t even love?

what God really said

The most remarkable thing was how all my thoughts were safe.

I’ve gotten used to existing with a filter, whether it’s Church Filter or Law School Filter or Friends Who Know a Certain Version of Me filter. But on the last weekend of October I went to Seattle and sat in an old United church with a Black Lives Matter banner on the front and I felt more at home in a church and with church people than I have in a long time. I felt unfiltered. 

I was afraid, to start. On Friday night we sat and waited for The Liturgists to come out and it was like my heartbeat was a vibrating question inside me–what if these people also cannot see me? What if this is just another place where I do not belong? I am used to it, I reasoned–I am accustomed to being the lone dissenting voice. But I am also accustomed to keeping my expectations low, and sitting there I realized they were painfully elevated. I realized how badly I wanted to find My People, and how absent they had been for so long. How afraid I was that such a group did not exist; that I was fated to experience all of this alone, a reluctant pioneer wanting nothing more than the comfort of the familiar. 

Sometime during that session, I remember I handed someone a kleenex less to dry her tears than in an attempt to be Seen. I am so used to sitting in rows facing a stage and feeling invisible, and I was terrified that this would be no exception to that rule. 

But slowly my fears dissipated, in a haze of coffee and IPAs and surprising Seattle sun, and the startling experience of sitting next to hundreds of people who all know what it is to be the lone dissenting voice. Hundreds of people who asked if that was really what God said. Hundreds of people who made gay friends and who read feminist books and who marched with Indigenous protestors and who paid the price, whether it be vocational or financial or social. Hundreds of people who knew what it was to be labeled dangerous or accused of bad theology or rejected for questioning the status quo. I remember sitting and thinking of how church at its best is a place for rejects, and these are the rejects of the church; a wounded, wary crowd, who all know enough not to hope or dream or offer too much from their cracked hearts.

I remember someone asked a question about miracles, and I thought of the years I spent praying to see a miracle. I thought that seeing someone’s severed limb grow back would make faith easy, and for years I asked for that and it never came. I remember Michael Gungor subtly modulating scales on his guitar, asking why it was so impossible that the universe could do something strange and different once in a while, and I remember thinking that I didn’t care any more about witnessing sicknesses healed or limbs regrown. I remember thinking that the people in that room were a miracle. A miracle that I could sing Come Thou Fount and mean it. A miracle that I did not have to withhold any of my thoughts and experiences because nothing was scandalous, nothing was unacceptable, nothing was off limits. It was okay not to believe in miracles; it was okay to expect them as surely as the sunrise.

I oscillated between glee and tears, all weekend. An avalanche of emotion that had waited too long to come out; that started to break free on an absurd dance floor with a bottle in my hand, surrounded by people who brought their wounds and used them for healing. A sea of people whose fears and doubts I understood, for they are also mine. The hope that broke the surface of my heart struck me like a wave, tumbling into sand and scattering open the parts of me I have hidden for fear they were not fit to be seen. Hope that there is still belonging to be found in this world; hope that the community exists where nothing I say will be used against me. Hope that I will be known, will be seen, will be loved. Hope that all these fearful parts will come together again into wholeness. 

Hope found me sobbing in the arms of strangers and whispered to me that all was not lost.

And so I am at peace, with what God said or did not say. I am at peace opening my arms, and I am at peace with the not knowing. So many offered their hearts to me with open hands, with patience and tenderness and love. So many saw me without even knowing me. So many were my allies and friends, that night dancing and crying and marvelling at the miracle of being not alone. It seems a small gift to take that belonging home with me and offer it up, a safe sweet sanctuary from the callously, indifferently theological. I did not need to apologize, in that space, for being who I am, problematic and white and cis and female and hurt and afraid and small and uncertain and brave and broken and nakedly vulnerable; nor will I, any longer. 

I have sometimes likened myself to a particular small monkey from a children’s book who walks around asking “are you my mother?” because he does not know what his mother looks like. In a metaphorical sense, I sometimes feel as though I, too, walk around searching others’ faces and asking do I belong with you?

Before Seattle, I thought belonging was a luxury enjoyed only by those who are not like me, who have obediently followed the path laid out for them without straying or questioning. I am amazed and grateful that I was wrong.  

“Teenage Dirtbag”
(originally by Wheatus)

Her name is Noel
I have a dream about her
She rings my bell
I got gym class in half an hour
Oh how she rocks
In Keds and tube socks
But she doesn’t know who I am
And she doesn’t give a damn about me

‘Cause I’m just a teenage dirtbag baby
I’m just a teenage dirtbag baby
Listen to Iron Maiden baby with me

Her boyfriend’s a dick
And he brings a gun to school
And he’d simply kick
My ass if he knew the truth
He lives on my block
And drives an Iroc
But he doesn’t know who I am
And he doesn’t give a damn about me

‘Cause I’m just a teenage dirtbag baby
I’m just a teenage dirtbag baby
Listen to Iron Maiden baby with me

Oh, yeah, dirtbag,
No, she doesn’t know what she’s missin’
Oh, yeah, dirtbag,
No, she doesn’t know what she’s missin’

Man, I feel like mold
It’s prom night and I am lonely
Low and behold
She’s walking over to me
This must be fake
My lip starts to shake
How does she know who I am?
And why does she give a damn about me?

I’ve got two tickets to Iron Maiden, baby
Come with me Friday, don’t say, “Maybe.”
I’m just a teenage dirtbag, baby, like you

Oh, yeah dirtbag,
No, she doesn’t know what she’s missin’
Oh, yeah dirtbag,
No, she doesn’t know what she’s missin’

Made with SoundCloud

Thoughts on a lonely Friday night…

Some days I feel stupid.. I open myself up to much, I overthink to much & I definitely feel to much… I wish I could be unattached to the world some days.. I forget that sometimes people are just nice because they’re like that with everyone.. that I’m not anymore special then the next girl.. that how I feel isn’t the same as them.. it’s silly to say that I fall for people too hard & too quickly.. but I honestly just have a lot of love to give and wish someone had the same, it may not be “in love” but it’s a feeling of “yeah I could talk/be with you every day”

They say to stop looking and what you were looking for will fall into place when it’s meant to.. that you meet people for a reason… but I just want to know.. why did I meet you then..? Is it a lesson? Is it a mistake..? Is it guidance on who I’m supposed to be and where I’m going..? The universe is a strange place and works in mysterious ways.. but all in all, I think I’m lost in life without a clue on what I’m doing.. 🤷🏼‍♀️

It’s like all week I look forward to the weekend and I’m counting down the days counting down the hours and then it’s here and it’s Friday night and I’m wondering

“Why was I so excited?”

I just took a 2 hour nap. I fell asleep because I had nothing to be awake for. It happens like this most of the time. I’m excited during the week only to do nothing all weekend and then it’s back to work to another countdown to the weekend. What am I counting down for? I’m just as lonely on the weekend as I am during the week. I’m probably more sad on the weekends because I have extra time to be sad and extra time to think.

I guess I’m just realizing that life is just looking forward to the weekend. Over and over and over. Until there’s no more weekends to look forward to, because you’re dead. I have nothing of sustenance to look forward to. I have no true friends to hang out with. I have no lovers hand to hold. I don’t have a family here to fall back on. It’s just me.

And time.


Slowly away.

This is my life and I’m 21 and I’m realizing that if I don’t do something differently. If I don’t change my ways or seek something different.

Then things will stay like this.

I need to go for a drive.

I can feel the sadness creeping up on me.

Sentence Starters {Song Lyrics Edition}
  • "I bet you never had a Friday night like this!"
  • "The thing I think I love will surely bring me pain…"
  • "What, am I supposed to be impressed?"
  • "Please don’t abandon me!"
  • "I’m drifting away…"
  • "I said I’d fight back, I didn’t say that I’d fight fair."
  • "A lesson learned is easier said than done."
  • "I wish I could find a way to make up for all that I’ve done…"
  • "I cannot spend another night in this home!"
  • "I was just lonely…"
  • "Don’t let me fall…"
  • "Now where have you been?"
  • "What if I can’t forget you?"
  • "Don’t you try to blame this on me!"
  • "Tonight I’ll make you feel beautiful once again."
  • "Come at me with everything you’ve got!"
  • "Maybe you can’t handle yourself…"
  • “And how do you scream when there’s no one left around?”
  • "Never let life kill your spark."
  • "We’re all so comfortable with living in our sheltered holes…"
  • "You can pay for school but you can’t buy class!"

anonymous asked:

My friend once ditched me in the middle of the night at a sleepover. When we asked her why she told us she just had a feeling her cat was lonely, and she wanted to sleep next to her. This is normal.

your friend is literally me oh god

sleepover friday

Ian/Mickey Fanfic Recs [Part 67][GIF Guide][Includes Mature]

Previous Part

Serve and protect - Mickey needs the money so he accept to work as a bodyguard for the son of a rich family: Ian Gallagher. Both boys immediately hate each other as both of their world meet.

Love is A Disease - Ian had only read it that one time. It was in this book he had to read for school. “Love is a mental disease.” It sounded like a load of bullshit to him, honestly.

Trying New Things - Not even God himself knew how long Ian had been talking. He and Mickey had left the Kash and Grab over an hour ago in search of the dugouts, case of beer under one arm with matching cigarettes hanging from their mouths, when Ian had immediately launched himself into the longest laundry list known to man entitled “Reasons Why Lip is an Asshole and I Never Liked Him Anyway”.

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