It’s always silent now.
Even when someone speaks there’s an eerie quietness
I feel so bad that I forget.
Someone has to remind me
that my brother’s dead.
I feel like the scum of the Earth for never thinking about Evan, or even wanting to think about Evan. Sometimes when he was taking a nap I’d go into his room and crumble into pieces at the thought of anything happening to him. I feel like shit. It’s not about me, it should be about him. I wish I wasn’t an asshole. Someone who doesn’t push all of their thoughts of him away.
I’m glad that I’m not alone. Only James gets how I feel, not my friends, not even mom or dad. He was our brother, we were all siblings. We are siblings? I don’t know.
James left today. I miss him already. He is the only one who understands how we live, how we work, what we go through. I hope he calls soon.
He never called.
• 1 October 2014
A letter to the boy I gave everything to
Everytime this happens all I get are “I’m sorry” and “I was drunk.” But I can’t keep going on like this and pretend that everything is okay. Every time you’ve hurt me it’s become increasingly harder to just be your friend. But every single time you pushed the dagger a little more into my heart, I forgave you, gave my full attention and devotion. Those nights you spent telling me how beautiful I was, warming me with your love and slobbery kisses was the first anyone’s ever made me feel special. You told me that you were afraid of my parents, and what your friends would think. You told me how you couldn’t find peace in yourself, and I gave you all that I could to make yourself feel alright. You even asked how I was doing after my brothers death, then after my grandfathers, long after anyone else would. You said you worried about how I was feeling because I looked so strong and that was “too much for anyone to go through so quickly.” Then the next morning you’d take it all away. “I don’t remember anything I said, I’m sorry.” Well do you remember when you called me in the middle of the night because you hated who you were and what you were doing with your life? I’m not a convenience to you, an object to have at hand when needed. I matter. Not just when she rejects you and no one else seems appealing. I refuse to be your second option, or your drunk dial. So stop texting me at 4 am asking what I ever actually saw in you. I’ve learned that I’m better than that, I’m better than you.
• 1 October 2014 • 1 note
NIGERIA: HANDMADE COLLAGE: ALEXANDER IKHIDE
View more of Alexander’s work here and keep up with him and MP on Instagram here and here.
• 1 October 2014 • 112 notes
leif podhajsky is such a genius jfc
• 25 September 2014
The Liberace Museum, 1998
oil on canvas
by Dexter Dalwood
• 24 September 2014 • 6,108 notes