comradebogart

[comradebogart]

092824

flight is delayed. what else is there to do. i’m trying to finish 1984 but i cant. im too used to reading in my bed. yesterday i found out this guy from church i had a crush on died. maybe its affecting me. maybe im just a nosy son of a bitch. he was the same age as my oldest sister. i think they went to the same highschool. maybe they were friends. i dont care. he’s dead. all of a sudden im reminded of that one sunday i went to the 7am sermon and deliberately sat next to him. maybe it was a crush. or maybe i just wanted to look like him. i never really know the difference. anyway. the plane doesnt leave until 12mn. it’s 9:41. what the fuck am i supposed to do. i dont like manila. they’re all so dramatic. also i dont really know why he died. i have spent the last hour reading through comments. no clues. no answers. nothing. if i die and someone asks how it happened. dont tell them. let it be my revenge for tonight. im still thinking about him. the guy probably didnt even know me. jesus christ. but he was such a big deal when i was 7. anyway. i know this is terrible. but i wish i had a chance to fuck him. to be honest i wouldve let him do anything he wanted. i wish i fucked someone here before leaving. i still have time. but im tired. i shouldve just went for the guy from the condo. but im tired. tired of being a bucket list. or a kink. or something new. or being on the receiving end of questions about genitals. or having to teach a bunch of FUCKING idiots about gender and sexuality. im so tired. im exhausted. im terrified. at this point i dont really think anyone would actually love me again. and i think that’s the safest thing.

why the fuck did he die???? i wish i had a chance to fuck him.

[comradebogart]

forgot when i wrote this

she’s funny. the girl im talking to says “good night, theater kid”. but you introduced me to hamilton. if you stand for nothing, burr, what’ll you fall for? wow. i satisfy one need and it agitates another. all i do is yearn. i miss how easy the set up was with you. but we spent last night being offended that we’re only 80% compatible according to some astrology website. and i drew frogs for her. i made her a bookmark. and an egg shaped ashtray. i dont know why. maybe im trying something new. maybe i just want to fuck. maybe i just want to seem cute. or kind. or thoughtful. at this point who even gives a fuck, right? we live and we create and we give and we fuck up. what else is there anyway. all i know is that i want a pretty girl to sit on my face. and i want to raise a daughter with someone. a wife. or a friend. doesnt matter. i want a daughter. ill be the lame dad. how did i get here? i was just trying to masturbate seconds ago.

[comradebogart]

091624 - preboarding yap

it’s not even about the sex. it’s not about me sucking her clit. or tongue fucking her til i choke. it’s not about that. it’s about being allowed to touch her. what a privilege. her trusting me with her body. what a gift. it’s the look she gives me when i take off her underwear for the first time. it’s sleeping on her chest. it’s being able to play with her breasts until i fall asleep. what a gift. i want my touch to be wanted. i want her to get wet at the thought of me. to get excited when im about to eat her out. to miss me when im not holding her. i want to be responsible for her pleasure. i want to take accountability. i dont know what that means, really. i want to make her happy. i want her to want me to choke her. i want to cook her breakfast. i want to tie her up. i want to wash her clothes. i want to edge her. i want her. to want me

[comradebogart]

081724

please kiss me again. in the most dramatic way possible. with just enough tongue. just enough biting. unchoreographed. but in sync, still. please cum in my mouth again. twenty times in thirty minutes. until my throat starts to hurt. until my tongue is numb. she never grabs me the way you used to. i put her hands on my neck when we kiss so i can pretend im kissing you. what is it about you woman. woman. woman. run towards me again. dance with me again. let’s hate people together again. steal glances with me in crowded rooms again. you are the love of my life. i keep waiting to be proven wrong. sorry if this started out in a sexual way. what i really want to say is, more than anything, i want us to own a kitchen together. the only thing i’ve been doing since i saw you for the first time is pray you end up with me.

[comradebogart]

070324

i wasnt sure if it was you at that home fragrance kiosk. you had your hair tied up in a way you never did four years ago. i hoped it wasnt you. i thought i wouldnt be scared of you anymore. that white girl i used to love was right. old habits die screaming. never been this desperate to feel ambivalent. i hope you’re scared of bumping into me. i hope you feel something. at least something. it doesnt have to be love. just something. anything other than apathy. just feel something. anything. it’s been four years and im still terrified. you’re so beautiful. maybe im a different breed of delusional but sometimes i feel it when you’re near me. or around me. or in the same city. a feeling specific only to me. or for me. i think i still love you and nothing other than your death could fix it. i dont want to die. im happy. so you’re gonna have to die. you’re beautiful. so you’re gonna have to die. only other way out is if you come back to me. for the love of god please come back to me. it’s been years and i still want you to cum in my mouth. or invite me when you shower. or piss me off. please piss me off again. dont get married to someone else. carry my children for me. we’ll pick good genes. i’ll be a good father. ill make science find a way. that baby will have my voice. and your skin. and our allergies. and our sense of humor. and our ability to rot in bed for days. and our recurring nightmares. and your skin. and your skin. i love your skin. that baby will drink only what your body will produce. you will both come home to a house only i will clean. we will fight sometimes. and i’ll get jealous. and you’ll get jealous. but maybe this is all a lie. i dont even know you anymore. i feel crazy. im pretty sure this isnt a collective experience. im alone im alone im alone. and im crazy. because you’re okay. you’re okay. you moved on. you’re life changed. mine did too. so why am i the only one suffering here. where did i get this excruciating ability to yearn. to want. to desire this way. it’s desperate. it’s embarrassing. it’s impossible. where’s the way out?

[comradebogart]

bogart to bogart

hello, comrade.

let me say things. i havent written anything in 3 years. maybe it’s because im not suicidal anymore.

hey 2021 bogart, you sick fuck. this is 2024 bogart writing to you in a king-size bed, in a condo unit i dont pay for. let me tell u something. let me say things to you, boy.

learn when to shut the fuck up, bud. she’s not coming back. she doesn’t love you anymore. and it’s fine. you’ll be fine. rumor has it she’s dating a cishet man. its insulting in many ways. i still feel angry about it. she’d be a lot cooler if she stayed a lesbian.

let me tell you something. let me say things to you, boy. i dont want to jinx it but i might not be suicidal anymore. for the first time in a long time i dont crave detachment. or dissociation. i think its also why i havent written anything in a long time. i may not have grief to write about anymore.

i could write about love. or joy. i feel joy now, bud. and its liberating. im a boy. and this is what i look like. and im sweaty. it smells bad. and im hairy. im growing a goatee. or at least im trying to. anyway ill be 27 in 2 weeks. you’re 24. or almost 24. i know you’re confused. its about to get rough.

but im on the other side. its good here. but im not going to oversell it. im still afraid. if anything i might even be more cynical, more angry, and more terrified than you. who would we be if not for our expertise in feigning nonchalance.

but i do feel joy. i run and i hike and i bike and i eat whatever i like. i feel joy. and for the first time im thinking past tomorrow.

see you in 2027, asshole.

[comradebogart]

no one ever tells you when your mom dies you get a free churro. i miss coming home alone to suffer the emotional repercussions of meaningless sex. hey mom. knock once if you want me to shut up. sorry im watching bojack and im lonely again. im a kid im a child im lonely all the time and i wanna die. its hilarious. im lashing out all the time and its hilarious. if i were neglected as a child i would understand where this anger came from. but hating my shit father aside. everyone who raised me really tried. my father tried. he's still trying. maybe they all tried and people are just inherently inadequate. oh but what matters is we try everyday right. i wanna believe in people the way michael did in the good place. but im not michael and my life isnt a sitcom i would want to rewatch. one day im going to wake up and read about john mayers death. and my mothers. and my fathers. and my friends. that would bum me out. if i died first i wont have to be bummed out. loophole. i am terrified of how im going to die. but hey. you know what they say. if you want something done well, you're gonna have to do it yourself

[comradebogart]

June 8 me was angry

today i got laid off and i kept laughing about it until it stopped being funny. Im so angry you're not with me today. somehow you always knew what to say. or which part of your body you can put in my mouth. my favorite memory is you telling me you loved me for the first time after i made you come. when we talked about decorating our apartment i had to convince you to let me have picture frames. its always gray or black or white. god is mean. what is it about testing people that makes his dick hard. nice choice. of course. get the teenage girl pregnant right. and then make her watch her son die. good choice. yeah go ahead prank master. tell abraham to kill his son and then tell him you were joking. mean. amen. i make bad segues. heres another bad one. i wanna have sex with you again. by again i mean all the time. and by all the time i mean when did you become the thing i need to heal from. sorry another bad one. i remember when life was simple and all i had to worry about was finding a classroom to make out in. do you think its possible. do you think i could lose my spiritual enlightenment. wow. are you telling me that theres no outgrowing the existential crisis. what a horrible way to live. dont worry im always going to wish i ended up with you. is it possible to spiral down the fireman way. by sliding down a pole. id forgotten how soft you are. maybe its your breasts. at this point i dont know. at this point it doesnt matter. fine. please just kill me. i cant do it alone. hi sir hi maam. would it be okay if i stopped trying for a while. i need someone to apologize to me. i dont know what for. stop asking me about plans. wherever that bitch is i genuinely hope she is having a bad day. i hope someone cheats on her. i hope she dies. there i said it.

[comradebogart]

im okay with your ambivalence. its like the roads ive been biking on has all been uphill. You said you expected it to derail at some point. just not tonight. we keep talking about thirst. id shut down all my morals to have you sit on my face. no filter. you said. no secrets. you said. its been a long time since i had woken up with a stranger. a friend told me i have the softboi atenean who gaslights vibe. pretty accurate if u ask me. sorry if i seem manipulative its a scorpio rising thing. when we have conversations in my head we both sound the same. the good thing about just fucking is that things dont go wrong. i told my cousin to write it down. this girl im sleeping with told me that between the two of us i was the one with more hang ups. its funny to think about. i keep making sure i'd sleep with people with no baggage. im the baggage. thats a bojack horseman punchline if you ask me. this girl lets me kiss her after i eat her out. one point for this softboi wanna be. anyway if there's a way to not think about her when another woman is sleeping in my arms please tell me. if there's another way to not imagine marrying her while another woman is sitting on my face please hit me up.

[comradebogart]

one more long ass letter for october part 3 because i did not think this through (edit 2024: excuse the inconsistent tenses i was in a moving vehicle when i wrote this)

This stupid gut I can't starve. Anyway, that time you soaped me up real good. Then you slept in that rented room and asked me not to stop holding you. I want to hold your hand. That sounds lame but it's true. We never really walked together without holding hands. Not unless you saw things you wanted to buy, anyway. We're in a pretty dark road right now and I'm starving. I can't chew because my wisdom tooth is killing me. I want to be held, I guess. I'm starving. You always liked to say good morning. I usually forget. I forget a lot of things. I guess that's why you always liked to quiz me. Silly little woman. Always trying to make me prove myself worthy. I wasn't really good at noticing anything new. You always liked to say, "Boo boo notice anything new about me?". I'd get scared as hell. You once told me you memorized me. From my shoes to my shirts. I just realized it was only because I only had one pair of shoes. And I didn't really have that many clothes. I like being comfortable in the familiar. I keep watching reruns of our relationship. It's amusing. Ah, the first time I saw you I stopped breathing for a while. Honest. This is not just some lame line like when you said, "I'm just enjoying the view" when you were staring at me after we had sex for the first time. Lame ass line. You had a lot of lame things to say to me. I loved all of them. Honest. I know the possibility of me ever hearing you sing again is only at 5%. If that ever happens, I probably won't know what to do. Your nose doesn't work and it kills me that you don't know what I smell like. Your ears, on the other hand, work like magic. One time after I showered you asked me if I was talking to myself in the bathroom. Those little bitches heard my whispers. God, I love you and your weird superhuman ears. Anyway, I'm pretty sure I'm 90 percent western medicine. If there's a quicker way to healing, one ticket, please! Two if you want to come with me.

[comradebogart]

one more long ass letter for october part two because its that long

That's two minutes of freedom, if you ask me. Which you won't because I feel like I'm not even the one you're thinking about right now. I want you to think about me, though. Not that it would help any of us or anything. Yesterday I dreamt about you. You asked me if I loved you and when I said yes you asked me to let you go. I don't really care about dreams. I don't understand them. I love you. It used to feel weird to say that without you hearing it. Now it's sort of an everyday thing for me. I'm not even listening to the songs anymore. Ah, the playlist is over. Ran out of John Mayer songs that could hurt me. But, come on, would it kill you to try and find me? Sometimes I just remember random things. Like that time you ate a sandwhich and held my hand the entire time. Or that time you asked me to give you a massage and when I rubbed your back dirt came out. That was funny. I just did that laugh where you sort of just exhale through your nose or something. Funny. I was ironing my clothes the other day and I remembered the first time I saw all your dirty underwear stacked in a corner. I loved you so much more after that. That's right, you find an intelligent woman who is so breathtaking, and the moment you see her dirty little quirks you just can't help but love her even more. I always hated it when you didn't do the things I asked you to do. Like the dishes. I used to come home and you'd run like hell and start washing them. Funny as hell. What a strange girl you are. Flung out of space. That's from Carol. I used to think of Rooney Mara when I fucked you. Sorry, made love to you. You used to say it was never just sex with me. Or maybe I said that. I don't remember. The night we met we slept together. No sex or anything. We made out and just slept together. God, even then I knew no one could be just as soft. Everyone else is second best. Not that you're perfect or anything. Boy, were you a pain in the ass sometimes. Sometimes I literally had to demand an apology from you. You were also mean in a funny way. I didn't always like it. Sometimes you were so reckless with your words. No fucking filter at all. Mean as fuck. It's like the part of your brain that's supposed to weigh the pros and cons of things doesn't work. I loved you anyway. If I'm being honest I always thought your friend was pretty. You kept saying I had a crush on her. Boy, she's pretty but she's not you. That's enough reason. I realized we never really fought over the phone. We both liked to say, we'll talk about it later. I liked that. When I was a kid, everytime I got sick my mother always said that if she could take my pain and make it hers, she would. What a fantastic thing to say. It didn't heal my fever or anything. I guess I'm saying that because I don't think I would ever do that. Or even think about doing that. I surely don't love you enough to make your pain mine. And believe me, I already love you too much. Mothers are amazing like that. Always fucking unbelievable. Do you, though? Do you love me enough to make my pain yours? I mean I'd go through hell with you, but I guess I won't do it for you. Interesting. I just realized that. Damn it my mother's love dwarfed my love for you. Now I feel smaller than ever. Now I feel like I want you to read this or whatever. Maybe when I die. Remember when Burke told Cristina, I love you. What the hell is the matter with you that you just won't let me? I just want you to let me. This is a long ass letter. I honestly don't care. I just remembered the time we went biking. You were so tired because the pedals on your bike were giving you a hard time your legs were starting to hurt. We exchanged bikes after a while. Fuck. I guess I did take your pain and made it mine. In that super small gesture. I really do love you, dont I? I guess I took care of you alright. I just remembered the first time we showered together. You gave me a bath because I was super drunk. If I had hint of sobriety in me I never would have let you do that because I'm not the biggest fan of my body.

[comradebogart]

one more long ass letter for october

I pass by your city and I almost pass out. John Mayer's Comfortable plays. As I pass through that restaurant you said your family owns, John Mayer sings the chorus. Right on time. If I'm being honest I keep looking out, trying to figure out where you live. If I had enough courage I'd run to you. But I don't. I want to. But I can't. I'm not allowed to make mistakes anymore. I forbid my self to take risks. It's a waste of time. But I love you. About 2 minutes before the exit, John Mayer's You're Gonna Live Forever In Me plays. It's like my playlist knows there's no running away from you. From this. All these minutes spent dissociating has been ineffective. I look out the window again. I'm imagining you in the car right next to us. Stalk the fuck out me. Or something creepy only you could make adorable. I'm outside your city now. John Mayer's Come Back to Bed is playing. I survive on the breath you are finished with. When I wrote that in a letter I gave you I meant it. All of it. Maybe that's why I can't bring myself to flirt with someone else. Say I fall in love again. Say she says I'm the love of her life. You know, like you did. Am I supposed to just say it back and mean it? What does that say about the kind of love I gave you? I hope this love is as emotionally dispensible as my faith. Perfectly Lonely played next but I skipped it. I don't hate it. I'm just not in the mood. I'm listening to Magnolia now. This song mentions New Orleans. I think that's the place with all the voodoo. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I don't really care. I just miss you all the time and this kind of longing is not really productive. Ah fuck. Slow Dancing in a Burning Room is playing. How dare you say it's nothing to me, baby you're the only light I ever saw. I always liked that line. How dare you say I don't love you enough to fight. You didn't even want me to fight. You once told me you felt like you loved me more than I loved you. All because I was doing so good at staying away. I always looked back. I'm still looking back. You can't just stand there and think I don't love you enough. Great. Now it's Edge of Desire. I feel like my playlist is making this impossible to believe. Here it goes. I want you so bad I'll go back on the things I believe. There I just said it, I'm scared you'll forget about me. You once cried in front me and said you were so scared of losing me. Whether or not that's still true, I don't want to find out. Don't say a word just come over and lie here with me. There I just said it, I'm scared you'll forget about me. It's almost August 25th. Happy Anniversary, baby. If I cried right now it wouldn't make any difference. But I want to cry. You used to wrap your body around me when I cried. I don't think I'll ever be that warm again. I'm standoffish for a reason, but I was always warm with you. Back to You is playing now. I'm skipping it. I'm listening to Why Georgia now. My favorite part is when John sings Am I living it right? Well, am I? Are you? I know one day this will all seem like a distant thing I'll make jokes about. But right now it's not funny. When being away from me stops making sense, you know where to find me. Last night I forgot your birthday. Never On The Day You Leave is playing now. John sings, You'll hear an old familiar sound and hope it's her when you turn around. Jesus, you're like a fucking phantom limb. How long does it fucking take to get you out of my skin? It's not like you buried yourself in me or something. I want to kiss you one more time. I want to kiss you so hard it burns. Not being with you burns the living hell out of me. All We Ever Do Is Say Goodbye is playing now. John sings I've tried everything but giving in. Boy, it's like I ghost wrote that line. I'm sorry for not always having breakfast with you. I was looking at all the tweets I sent myself and came across your old message. You said, Please come back. Now I'm saying it. Please come back. I'm not desperate or anything I just miss you. Sometimes, I don't. Once, I didn't think about you for about 2 minutes.

[comradebogart]

is this fun for you, sweetie. is this turning you on. is my misery good for your brain. is my terror singing you to sleep. is this some kind of kink. what kind of demon is sleeping under your bed tonight. is this fun for you, darling. is this turning you on. is my resistance getting you high. is my desparation feeding your faith. what kind of possession is enough for you. is this fun for you, honey. is this turning you on. is my breathing, or lack thereof, making you horny. is my grief making you come. is this what you want. my longing my sadness my redemption my deliverance. take all of it. keep it in a box. hide it in the part of your brain that hates recycling. take all of it. keep it in a box. go back in time and undo the night we met. the night you had to pretend to have a math problem to get to me. no empirical data proves we should be together anyway. so take all of it. keep it in a box. take my nightmares my burden my guilt my resurrection. ill adore you still. is this fun for you, darling. is this turning you on.

[comradebogart]

would it be weird if i told you we got along so well it felt like we were conceived in the same womb. why can't i resent her. jesus it's time to intervene. if you're alive somewhere lets walk on water together. if i could change things i'd say turn that water into burbon. turn that bread into weed. im afraid of my own motivations. all this discipline to be a better person for nothing. in bad situations im the devil. the kind of love i give is limited. my friend told me 'you know you can calm down right'. dismissive little bitch. not gonna lie im going to use that on her when she panics. i no longer have prophetic ideals. if i could change things id say turn my father into a better man. turn this will into resistance. in my nightmare i was fucking my first girlfriend and i didn't want to but she wouldn't let me stop. i wanted to fucking kill her. in my nightmare my alarm wont stop screaming. i was screaming. make it stop goddamnit. this noise i cant avoid. this silence i cant tolerate. where's that middle ground everyone else keeps finding. billions of people in the world and none of them are sleeping with me. that should do it. what am i afraid of. what am i trying not to say. on my deathbed it will be easier to admit i still love her. i have asthma. i know what its like to try so hard not to cough. there you have it. thats what its like to pretend i dont care about marrying her. jesus it's time to intervene. if i could change things i'd say turn me into someone who doesn't breathe anymore.

[comradebogart]

I have a picture of myself in a carousel. i was five and i was happy. i shit my pants that day. tried to hide it. and got on the carousel anyway. had to be there for the photograph. i shit my pants that day. fucking hilarious. got on the fucking carousel anyway. im trying to come up with a lesson or something. at least something. truth is all im thinking about right now is the two piece chicken im going to have for dinner. and the cold shower im about to have when i get home. in my next life if i dont turn out to be an ant i will haunt this kid they call jesus and give him a fucking wedgy. thats what you get messiah. im sorry i actually like jesus. i think. im so hungry and i cant sit. this scar is starting to chafe. i dont think im using that word right. like ennui or sanguine. i know what they mean i just dont know how to use them. im an idiot i know. someone please murder me. in a nice way. i dont know. i dont care. just make it stop.

[comradebogart]

This woman, early sixties or late fifties, the woman we buy our cigarettes from, she talked to me and i answered her with whatever energy i had left. i didn't have nightmares last night. i didn't sleep. that's a win if you ask me. today at work i looked at all the crying videos i have of you and i cried too. for some pathetic reason i kept pretending we were crying together. im limping. i have a scar on my leg and there's blood on my jeans. you said you hated this pair of jeans. i hated it too. you said, and i have proof of this, that im not allowed to get hurt. that no one is allowed to hurt me. for the love of god come home to me. i might have ptsd. i cant write the way i used to. there were nights you'd come home angry. you’d fold your arms around your chest and pout. you’d look at me and in anger you narrate the source of your outburst. i sit on the bed and i listen. i always listen. in that little room we used to dance together. unprompted. i think you dont love me anymore. i cant put it in a poetic way. i can only put it in a way that sucks the life out of me. for the love of god come home to me. no one understands the kind of good we had. not even you. just me. its always just me. i warned you about calling me the love of your life. in one of my nightmares you were there. im not lonely im terrified. the goal is to die at 25.

[comradebogart]

People are always talking about how they sometimes drive by their lovers house. I dont drive. So sometimes I walk by the place where we met and I just sort of stand there. It's almost August 25th. I say that because my body is aware of how long it has been since I was allowed to love you. Not that anyone's stopping me. I keep yelling, "honey, im home" every time I get home. It seems sad but I do it to amuse myself. I'm not miserable or anything. I'm unhappy, sure. But who isn't? I cant imagine how we both used to fit in that bed. I think you're starting to dissolve from my memories. I don't remember how you sound. Maybe I'm no longer able to read your silence. Unlearning you has not been easy. It hasn't been that hard, either. I'm okay, really. At least, I think I am. I hope I am. Getting high is my new hobby. Whether I'm still in love with you or not is something I don't really think about that much. Why should I? It makes no sense to want a heart that doesn't look back. God, I love that song. I had it on repeat once and my friend snapped at me. Sometimes I imagine you sitting by the window and thinking about me. And then I get mad because I feel like you're not doing anything about it. Not that I'm doing anything about it. I'm not romantic anymore. People should be forbidden to be romantic at 23. Perhaps I never was romantic. Grand declarations of love are pathetic. I have a playlist I keep renaming. I may have lost the spiritual enlightenment I had at 21. At the moment it's all just apathy. Is it possible to make a difference by disappearing? I want my death to be bizzare. Like those unsolved murders I keep watching. Let the people worry. Let them wonder who left my shattered head on someone's doorstep. I'm not minimizing the trauma it will cause my family. I just want to be thought of forever. Random people will search my name on the internet and they will cringe. They will imagine me in my last moments and attempt to put themselves in my shoes. That's it. That's how you can make a difference by disappearing. It's funny when I wrote this it was supposed to be about everything I want to say to you. Now it's just weird and insensitive. I actually don't have anything to say to you.