feraferiablakkwitchmanflayer:

i RESPECT women

*considers self unable to spend time around womyn who have rejected him as a sex partner*

*is amazed that he’s actually interested in a relationship with a womyn he initially just wanted to fuck, comments about how fucking her makes him “weiner cousins” with another man*

*whines…

i’m really sorry about turning this tumblr into a coping journal but it’s really all i have and i want at least a little discussion about it. i’m keeping a private journal but like, feelings man. i want to share my feelings and see if i can have any discourse whatsoever about how others deal with death

like seriously i always had it in the back of my mind that we would eventually wind up together in some way or another and then no he’s dead now wow i am having a weird time dealing with this gonna go cry into my boyfriends armpit some more

yeah after a lot of reflection it turns out i still have feelings for him and every time i realize there won’t be any more love notes i freak out a little and find a place to hide. i fantasized about being with him and i still do it regularly except now he’s dead and it feels weird.

what do you do when you are still in love with a dead guy

I was bojangling in the Karpen computer lab to finish up some homework, check my email and edit my boyfriend’s resume before heading back to his house to sleep.

I got on twitter (habit) and promptly found out Jackson had died a week ago.

A Week Ago.

aweekago

There is a feeling that accompanies that millisecond pre-comprehension of the death of someone you love. I’ve felt it three times now. It’s something like a little hole opening up inside of your heart but it’s not a hole in the sense that nothing is there. It’s a hole in the sense that everything is being compacted into this small space behind your left breast. You’re head is getting sucked into your heart at the same time and speed as your stomach and your feet. Then everything gets sucked backwards out of your ribs. It’s hard to explain but then you snap out of it and speed through denial and whatever other weird defenses your brain has coded into its mush.

I started following Jackson on twitter a while back. I remember thinking his goofy avatar was what he actually looked like until I saw him on a tinychat sometime early last year. He was funny. He created art with words and was the foundation of a lot of my ideas of word-humor. I can’t explain it but take a look and maybe you will understand: http://favstar.fm/users/tree_bro

He was a funny dude on twitter and I sincerely thought he was the funniest person I had the opportunity to follow. I met him in a video chatroom shortly after and we kind of hit it off. He would send me messages calling me pretty every time I was visually upset and I’d return the favor because he was gorgeous and I had a pretty big crush on him since he was so nice and so caring and so handsome. That evolved into a strange, loving relationship sent through messages and chats and texts and eventually phone calls of us complimenting each other and joking about running away together. When both of us were extraordinarily sad we’d joke about dying together. When we were frustrated we decided to run away to Ohio together. When we were happy we would just exchange “I love you”s to one another and write witty, exaggerated love notes. 

This last winter break he was at his aunt’s house two hours away from where I’m currently living. We drew up a plot to have him sneak out of his house in the middle of the night and drink beer in my car in a parking lot like high schoolers. I got a flat tire. More importantly I chickened out. I had a boyfriend (and still have the same boyfriend) and I knew there was no chance of just going down to see Jackson without our weird-ass love becoming something more than words and feelings.

Then twitter this morning told me he died (a week ago). I knew he had problems and what really sucks is that I enabled him. He’d text me about doing heroin he just bought and I’d ask him questions about it jealously and selfishly because I wanted him to be happy and I wanted to entertain my own weird past-relationship with opiates. I told him it wasn’t okay, though, and I told him I wanted him to be okay but I never did anything about it and for that I’m kicking myself. I will never again let something like that slide.

I didn’t know that someone I loved so deeply was dead until seven whole days after it happened and that’s one of the reasons I feel so confused. 

Fuck

I miss you, Jackson.

I still love him.

I’m not even going to edit this i don’t even want to look at it again I just needed to say it and now I did and I’m not even gonna try to finish it. 

(Source: fyeah-seacreatures)

boatboatboatboatboat:

OH MY

(Source: hawowanlowow)