coloredglosses-blog

[coloredglosses-blog]

when im stressed i shitpost

basically vent art

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     GOD   !

me after rereading things i posted under the guise of veronica’s name bc none of it sounds even remotely like things veronica would say:

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          I   SAY   WE   GROW   UP,     BE   ADULTS   AND   DIE.

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[ he used a real gun, they should throw his ass in jail. ]

                       NO   WAY.     HE   USED   BLANKS.     ALL   J.D.   REALLY   DID   WAS   RUIN   TWO   PAIRS   OF   PANTS.     MAYBE   NOT   EVEN   THAT.     CAN   YOU   BLEACH   OUT   URINE   STAINS   ?

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[ did you say cherry or coke slushie? ]

                    I   DIDN’T.     CHERRY.

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meltedawake replied to your post.

wheres kurt + ram's Promotion i don’t see it

how dare u

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Heathers in a nutshell

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“     SOCIETY  NODS  ITS  HEAD  AT  ANY  HORROR  THE AMERICAN TEENAGER  CAN  THINK  TO  BRING  UPON  ITSELF     !    ”

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Heathers; dead girl walking 💀

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he is sitting on your front step and lighting a cigarette even though he would never let you touch one because “they’ll kill you,” he said, he is leaning back on his elbows and giving you that crooked smile that reminds you of an empty blue sky and you want to ask him if he���s ever really going to be happy or you’re supposed to pretend you don’t know that he’s going dark again you want to ask if maybe the problem is really that he doesn’t feel anything much less love or it’s actually just that you’re not good enough but god, this boy is a spinning top and a bad choice wrapped up in one, a sense of disaster in the trail behind him, he makes you feel exactly the same way as when you were seven and at the top of a hill on your brother’s bike and halfway down the brakes stopped working but you sit there and your tongue is tied and he’s so incredibly unsolvably sad inside and it’s something so even though you want to speak you say nothing.

“he’s so beautiful and it’s sad he never saw himself the way i saw him. i loved him, i really love him.” // r.i.d (via inkskinned)

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cohvenant:

Heathers (1988) dir. Michael Lehmann

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cohvenant:

Heathers (1988) dir. Michael Lehmann

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Hold me close and pretend we aren’t made of broken bones and shattered souls.

S.C (via astound)

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JASON DEAN!

as  per  request , a  zippo  too  was  produced  from  somewhere  on  his  being.  the  few  seconds  taken  to  coax  out  the  flame  and  light  both  smokes  was  apparently  all  the  time  veronica  needed  to  put  the  thoughts  that  had  clearly  been  plaguing  her  into  one  cohesive  question  yet  all  her  effort  and  perceived  vexation  prompts  is  incredulity  to  blossom  in  a  mind  that  can’t  possibly  empathize  with  her  own.  they  did  the  world  a  favor  and  on  some  level , veronica  had  to  see  that  because  although  her  words  said  one  thing , her  actions  belied  a  different  truth.  she  continually  supported  him , LOVED  him ,  even  willingly  aided  him  in  creating  the  wreckage  that  was  once  westerberg  high  school  and  while  the  loss  of  innocent  life  was  regrettable   (  he  supposes  )   it  was  just  as  necessary.  for  all  that  the  world  condemned  train  wrecks  it  likewise  fixated  on  them.  a  catastrophe  of  that  scale  would  be  doted  upon  for  weeks , months  even.  the  message  delivered  amidst  a  sea  of  death  would  receive  the  attention  it  was  due  even  as  it  would  otherwise  be  forgotten , briefly  anchored  to  feigned  compassion  but  ultimately  doomed  to  the  ocean  floor   ;   lost  and  ignored  along  with  countless  other  sunken  treasures.  it  wasn’t  jd’s  fault  that  society  was  captivated  by  extremities.

the  familiarity  of  this  routine  pricks  at  his  subconscious.  veronica’s  desperate  search  for  validation  when  irreversible  acts  have  already  been  committed  is  a  consistency  jd  could  do  without  but  will  play  his  part  all  the  same   /   will  take  the  time  to  bridge  the  gap  suddenly  separating  a  guilty  conscience  from  his  own  untroubled  mind  with  self - assured , honeyed  words  until  the  tension  settles  and  she’s  once  again  swayed  to  his  side.   ❛  no  good  deed , darling   …  ❜   his  words , projected  with  the  same  careless  indifference  that  dictated  his  actions , were  muffled  by  the  cigarette  between  his  lips.  hands  momentarily  occupied  with  returning  the  lighter  from  where  it’d  been  retrieved  and  only  once  the  task  had  been  accomplished , hands  are  freed  and  a  slow  drag  of  nicotine  is  inhaled , does  he  continue.   ❛  come  on , it’s  not  like  you  were  gonna  waste  your  life  in  ohio  anyway.  ❜

frozen  solid  or  thawed , the  blackened  remnants  of  his  heart  would  never  hold  much  warmth  for  anyone  except  her.  that  beautiful , naive  seventeen  year  old  who  had  shown  him  that  someone  could  split  him  open  and  still  choose  to  love  the  mangled  mess  inside  and  jd  unconsciously  clung  to  that   ———   to  HER  and  for  that  very  reason , would  continue  to  latch  on  no  matter  how  much  convincing  she  might  need  to  finally  accept  that  her  true  feelings  were  an  echo  of  his  own.

a voice as beautiful as hymns echoed like sonnets through a broken acquisition; had it not been for that callous BOY ultimately issuing HEATHER C a sentence of corruption, hell would have undoubtedly frozen over, starting with veronica’s dignity promptly being mounted as some UNJUST trophy, whose purpose was to be prodded by extraneous spectators who briefly got to play a role that alternated from victim to offender, while her dignity was extradited on a count of ostracization. sure, what was left of an impressionable morale had been deemed incomprehensible, but somehow it became influenced to conclude that no one was out anything ——— CASE CLOSED! a heart that once beat for equality now bled for passion ( excruciating to contact, tedious to perception  ) and each negotiation that followed suit. spanning an extensive lung capacity were the relentless toxins released through chemicals lured from a cigarette currently suspended amidst parted lips, now relocated to rest between interminably long fingers as the burning bud hovered above the alabaster skin of her boyfriend’s hand, an act taken up by veronica with intentions meant to excite. just as quickly as her hand lowered had it been dismantled again, stick now lodged between lips that were bloodied and chapped.

hitched was the last breath taken, trembling once discharged, bringing veronica back to westerberg before the structure was blown to infinite fragments ——— those now residing in combustible ash knew nothing of the brewing storm as it consumed them, and perhaps it was best that explicit confliction would live on only through the BONNIE AND CLYDE pantomimists’ anamnesis. an accessible contentment is found in jd, for only he could manipulate veronica in a manner that resembled love. only after a swift movement encouraged a hand to take hold of the beau’s arm, in what was meant to be a submissive facet, did the self-proclaimed HEROINE speak.  ❛ GOD!  you know you’re right.  ❜  hesitation was veronica’s fleeting ally, which she used to prepare an advance while false assurance resided in a lifeless core, presently depicted as a raging flame of desire.  ❛  want me to attest that?  ❜  

what persevered through the confined barricades of such a fractious dyad was the understanding that neither individual could prevail without the other, and it was that clear analysis that brought veronica to put jd’s life before those of her fellow pupils ( who wouldn’t have known the difference REGARDLESS of what had been carried out ). and another appropriated pull from the cigarette before it made contact with the dashboard.  ❛  so this must be the part that you carry me over the threshold in one of many extravagant suites to ensure your love for me.  ❜  with bold-faced banter lilting a softened tone, discerning whether veronica had been teasing or not may become an overly ambitious burden. 

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Now, do not misunderstand me; when I call myself a shell I mean- a used up bullet casing. As in, the aftermath of something lethal. As in, an echo of inflicted evil.

Amrita C. (via sunrisesongs)

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       ᴊᴜsᴛ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ɪ'ᴠᴇ ᴅᴏɴᴇ ʙᴀᴅ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ᴅᴏᴇsɴ'ᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴ ɪ'ᴍ ᴀ                 ＢＡＤ ＰＥＲＳＯＮ．

                                       … ʀ ɪ ɢ ʜ ᴛ ?

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You wear a mask for so long, you forget who you were beneath it.

Alan Moore, V for Vendetta (via wordsnquotes)