haloofbullets

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Lestat enjoying a cigarette

@doitfay on Twitter

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Is it even worth to still consider transitioning atm with the current state of the U.S.? Should I keep playing this girl bit, or give up and kill my self

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Genuinely might be the most selfish person ever. I’ve been closeted for the past nearly 7 years, and watching all my friends come out and transition has been a special kind of hell.

I knew who I was first, I should get to transition first. Everyday that passes, I feel more alone and horrible. My whole situation could’ve been solved if I had just came out when I planned, but I keep pushing it off.

I feel extremely left behind by all my other queer friends, as someone who’s stayed in the closet half of my life.

I don’t understand why they can’t just stay in here with me.

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i am going to have an aneurysm

(this is the interview btw)

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more photos of my mum during the 90s. she LOVED hot pink eye shadow

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DIVERSITY WIN!!!1!

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can the next shooter rock this i’m sick of the same three shirts

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Gathering my thoughts about the tik tok ban, just to say that practically ever other sight is unusable garbage. Instagram sucks, owner by Zuckerberg, every post is a reel now, and reels are trash. Algorithm is shit. It’s not wroth my time rolling on there, I genuinely get no dopamine from it and feel like my mind is rotting… Facebook for similar issues, only being kept alive by this country’s increasing elderly and illiterate population.

Unfortunately WhatsApp is also owned by meta, so I can’t entirely fufill my goal of going off grid and killing Mark Zuckerberg…

Twitter/ X is obvious. I’m only on there for fandom stuff mostly, algorithm is also garbage so I can’t really “branch out” like I can on TikTok. Hypocritical, but Tumblr is also bad imo. App experience is overrun by adds, and the whole porn censorship fiasco in 2016 ran this place into the ground. Now a days people are looking for more short form content, not random junk drawer of some anorexic girl’s blog. Speaking for which, for related topics, tags are censored, same as Pinterest for whatever reason which is also wraught w/ advertisements.

I don’t really hate to say it, but TikTok is the best social media app, due to its community building and stellar algorithm, which at least for me, from a news standpoint, is quite beneficial. Some of you may have fyp’s full of brainrot garbage (not to brag, but I don’t), so I feel like I’ve benefited from the app. As a last note, I feel that TikTok “ruining” attention spans is a *you* problem, and not really the fault of the app. It is what you make it.

— in regards of the actual ban; I think it will get banned, Trump will swoop in and save the day, unban it, earn him some more points with Gen Z, turn the app into a censored, ad-filled hellscape, and continue on implementing his racist regime. Well all go to hell in a hand basket, but Atleast I’ll get my moldy bread and overpriced circus.

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regained my eating disorder twitter account from 2022, reading thru old tweets why was a genuinely insane

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anorexia is fembrained but autism is the most malebrained disorder besides schizophrenia which means it all balances out like the four humors

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The rehearsal of this routine is ingrained, perforating through the bloodstream, fast and hot. Turning the snow pink just as it is compressed into a footprint, the shape of an ironed toed boot, passed down from father to son to son. For good-graces, soles are stitched-and-hemmed with every enlistment, which makes you second-to-last as always when you are In line to be shaved, stripped, boiled in water… Becoming a lobster in this baptism, like the second coming of Jesus Christ. This is to precede the Father, war hero. Then you are dragging through into the compound-and-kitchen, removing the rehashed inherited boots, stained brown and soggy from blood poured into preheated, pre-made, borscht, served over and then it dribbles onto snow twice; the third time it’s stained, like the alcohol and cigarettes does to the teeth and gums, warming the body as it crawls as instructed across the floor. Nesting between the hardwood and steel wire curls of underneath-the-bed craving, selfishly, the luxury of sleep, which is to be granted one time only, before it is dashed away with threat of a broken jaw.

Up and over barbed wire into a guards tower. You are also christened with a newly thatched sole, fresh off the nouveau white hospice room, jaded with sickly decay and the remarkable reassurance of value only in servitude and gout, flies swarming around 

As the clear-water vodka swarms, numbing the face and hands, swarming the body’s new imprisonment, morphed into this tower. Carving out a red hot rectangle where sleep finds itself behind the eyes, creating the world washed anew in snow, the snow made of prolonged haze and grueling repetition. Repetition between the guard tower and sleep, lack thereof, narcolepsy, with eyes wide open. Theren the bitter truth is found.

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If I think too hard/ my soul twists into a knot/ as if it is tying the/ noose off of all my/ emotions, for they/ will hold me if I/ ever touch them.

However, in time the/ tightness and constraints/ of my soul hurt/ (in its' effort)/ just as much.

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“Flesh Gun” Rick Baker’s original concept Sketches, Videodrome 1982

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Zine I made. I heavily IMPLORE you to save each image and print off your own copy for FREE