marlon-256-blog

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I haven’t done a promo in like a year and i just recently hit 17k sooo

mbf - st0nertrash 

must get at least 50 reblogs  

likes don’t count

ill post lists of 15 tomorrow morning with favorites and newly followed in bold

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It is a very uncommon deficit, those words stay with me... Its what the doctor told my dad, what my dad told me, and what the kids at school made fun of me for... Termolophlaemene, or TPM, its been my closest enemy ever since I was born. Not a lot is known of it but what is known still terrifies me to this day. Around the age of 7 was when it really decided to kick in. I had already had a very difficult social life, I had no friends, my mother was killed in a car accident... She died in my arms that night, I had recently been homeschooled on account of my "deficit" so starting school in the middle of second grade with traumatizing imprints on my mind. It didn't make it easier having uncontrollable and somewhat violent children running around. I couldn't focus. I actually couldn't focus, I wish I could say that was the worst it got. But anyways I would always and I mean always nod off in class, learning simple addition and subtraction was the last thing on my mind. I had.. Imagined things, things no one should ever imagine, I pictured I was inside the mind of a soldier that had just experienced shell shock, the twisted and insane mentality that made him do unspeakable things to himself, I imagined I was a poltergeist terrorizing an innocent family, I laughed and bathed in the utter raw dread and fear the family had knowing I would brutally murder a child that night, right in the middle of these fantasies my teacher would slam a book on my desk to get me on task. I would apologize to her in advance, she thought I was apologizing for nodding off. She had no clue. I was sent to the counselor for the remainder of the day, he would ask me over and over why I couldn't focus. My father being too ashamed to inform the school of my problem, I had to improvise and say that its just a child's mind taking him 1000 miles away form where he actually was. He wasn't buying it. So I decided to bite the bullet and tell him about my issue and what I had imagined. He had looked at me with this sort of remorse that also included fright. He asked what else I might of imagined over the course of the day. I figured nothing bad would come out of this, even though my dad told me not to tell anyone about my problem, I felt like I was safe here. So I'd tell him how I imagined that I was a doctor somewhere in the Victorian era, no anesthetics, bacteria infested equipment, a dim lit room with a few candles. While a man lay before me screaming in agony begging me to just end his life. All the while I was carefully remodeling and moving the broken femur bones and putting them back in their place. I had explained to him my very own thought as an SS officer. Ruthlessly ending the life of another vermin. One after the other, I had taken a shotgun, and I would put caves into each one of their chests, the screams. They only got louder when I had started using a knife. Apologizing and laughing after each one. He had previously asked me to stop explaining but I was too endulged in my thoughts to notice. He had asked me what the name of my condition. And I told him the name, he then asked me what it does to my brain exactly. And seeing how I knew nothing of it at the time. I improvised again. I told him around the age of two, I was apparently the victim of a victim of a vicious dog attack, I was repeatedly dragged and thrown around while the k,9's teeth sank deeper and deeper into my brain, while I was helpless to to anything against it, to add to the brain damage, a passed by who saw the attack tried to help by beating the dog with a stick until the dog left, I could hear the bones inside the dog as they were broken and shuffled around in its body, all the while the woman didn't stop beating this dog, some of her blows reached me and I could hear my own skull cracking against the force of her. The whole time I'm trying to mumble out barely audible words. I'm sorry. And The counselor didn't tale that very well. That's when everything went from ok to really bad. My father had been sent to civil court on belief that he had abused me and neglected me, and he won the trial but it was a bit ironic. He started drinking. He started to yell and scream. He started to hit me. The beatings were terrible. I would have something sprained by the end of every lashing. At least I was able to zone out while I was being bashed to what was at one pint the next month in a full body cast. I had constantly told him I'm sorry. Just like my teacher. I had asked for a meeting with my councelor, my father, my teacher, and my doctor, and after two years of constant pleading and begging I had finally got what I asked for. I was nine then and I had moved to another class since those two years but I begged for my teacher I had then. The teacher and the councelor had been informed on what my current situation was. The beatings, and my father had once again been taken to civil court, found guilty and spent the next 6 years in prison. After the gavel hit, my father was being escorted outside and I shouted I'm sorry about five times. He looked at me with hatred as he was to be gone until I was a teenager. And once again, I said under my breath. I'm sorry. I had still gone to school staying with a neighbor knowing about what was going on.there was kids but they were way older than I was. A 17 year old and a 15 year old. Mr and Mrs tentri were usually never around. So the only company I had was these older kids. They would never want to be around me. They thought I would hurt them somehow. So one day I went up to them and said. "Britney, Brendon, I'm really sorry. I know I scare you sometimes and I don't mean to. I just want to be friends. And Britney had sympathy for me and she had handed me an extra controller to play video games with them, I really took a liking to her. She was the only one nice enough to invite me to hang out with them. But Brendon disliked this. He complained the whole way. Britney tried to defend me but nothing worked. He called me names and very often shoved me out of The way. One last time I told him I'm sorry. So one night. I grabbed a knife from the kitchen, but as Mr and Mrs tentri never left anything sharp around us I only found use for a butter knife. He gurguled and screamed all the while the dull knife went furtwand further into his Adams apple. While he was wriggling around I ran to Britney's room asking her to come see what I did. So we rushed to Brendon's room. The high pitch scream deafening my hearing for a bit threw me off guard meanwhile Britney grabbed me and started shaking me. Violently she shook me as Brendon struggled to remove the knife from his throat. Britney finally let go of me but started dialing the police. So I had to snatch the phone from her and I pushed it down her throat. And I took the knife from Brendon as he was about to die anyways and I pushed it into Britney's throat to keep her from getting the phone out. The only thing I could do next was leave. I stayed back at my house for a while, trying to hide whenever police aruved and an investigation started. I was scared, frightens on what I might have done for these 6 years, they all should have been when I was. One day I thought it was smart to go back to school, just one more time. I went into the counselors office to talk and release stress. I had apologized to him, and him saying "what for?" Was what I was looking for, I had taken the color pencil I had and the stress ball on the table and shoved the end of the pencil into his eye socket, then to muffle the screams that the principal would have heard, I had stuffed the stress ball down his throat. I repeated to then stab him in the chest with safety scissors, as they were the only other sharp object in the room, and I watched him as he died. The sounds of muffled gurgurling filled my adrenaline ten fold. I had come up with the excuse that the councelor thought it was about time I was to go back to class, lunch was not yet over but I had that alibi for if someone who knew where I was supposed to be had seen me. I snuck into ms. Carol's class and she welcomed me in with open arms and within a spilt second looked at me an utter horror. I ran at her with all the force I had in me and dug my fingers into both her eyes, at this point I didn't care if anyone heard because I would have dissapeard for 5 and a half years after that. Pushing my fingers into her skull until I had nothing left but knuckle and fist to see, I had heard the kids line up to wait for class to start up again. Deciding that my deficit was the cause behind my acts like of aggression, I moved in with my life. This nice safe place, where all I have is my thoughts and I. I had gone to the local library to figure out what was left that I didn't know about my problem, I found that there is a nueron in the cerebral part of my brain.. That is eating away at itself, leaving the rest of it to slowly decompose the part of my brain that decides judgment. Being disgusted by this I had preformed evasive surgery.. Since I wouldn't have any access to anasthetics I decided clentching a razor blade in my other hand would distract me from the sounds of the drill. I like to think to this day that the surgery worked. When I turned 10 I felt like it would be a great present to myself to go inform my doctor that I had made a full recovery. And to apologize for any inconvenience I put him through. Walking to the hospital where I was diagnosed I had a feeling of people watching me. Which wasn't odd seeing as how a small child wearing a winter coat in the middle of july was walking by himself. I had been stopped by the police no more than 30 minutes from where I needed to go, they had asked me what was wrong and why I couldn't be on the streets by myself, and acting like the new recovered form of my self I told them thank you and and I gave them directions to what they thought was my home. Along the way they gave me sympathetic stories of when they were children and how their mothers always made them wear big coats. I had told them what happened to my mother. And they asked then why I had such a big coat, and I told them why I had it. In fact I showed them. I had stuck my arm around the passenger and had her in a hold while I repeatedly shot her until the other officer stopped the car and trued to pull his pistol out at me, but my deficit giving me the adrenaline needed, I took the dead officer's gun and had it right under the other officers head

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Reblog if you want anonymous questions.

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Fuuck *.*

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On a grid, per say

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Looking for an outlet..

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Selfless Three years. I chased her for three years, the pursuit of trying to get close to her, trying to be her friend, trying to learn more about her. It was impossible, but it made me try harder. She was in the popular group no more than a week after she transferred to our school, I wanted her to be like, and I wanted to be hers. She was so beautiful, she was so cute, she was hilarious I would hear her making jokes in class and I would try not to laugh because I had no authority to even have anything to do with her. I was a loser, I only had a few friends and they all ragged onbme for trying to get with her. I tried to hang with the kids she hung out with, but it was seventh grade, and there was levels for people and mine was the bottom while she was in top. Every time I would try to get close to her I would get shot down by Tyler and Colby, two of the jocks in school, they'd call me a loser and start bullying me until I left, and her.. She looked at me with disgust, like I was some feral rat trying to take her food. But in time she would see. Me and her were meant to be. She was always on my mind, I was so in love with her, I imagined long walks in the beach, movie dates, and even a future together. But time and time again I would be patronized and bullied by the kids she hung out with. I would be shoved and kicked. By the end of eighth grade I had over 10 black eyes and a fair share of bruises. The whole school turned against me. My own friends were taken into the coop group while I was left here to suffer. No one understood, I loved her, if I could just talk to her everything I went through would be worth it. Teachers were brought in to help with the bullying situation. And me and Mrs Murphy started an organization at school for anti bullying. I hated it at first, it just made me look even worse in front of everyone else. I would be kicked out of my seat on the bus. I would be tripped on my way down the stairs. Constant name calling and utter brutal terror from everyone. But about a month into the campaign me and Mrs Murphy staelrted I actually liked it, I was in full support. I felt as if I sucseeded at this that maybe the girl i loved would notice and take a liking to me and me and we could be together forever. But that didn't happen.. Come  next month all the staff at school were in on my campaign while all the kids wanted me to suffer.. And so then the eighth grade ceromony came. And I had asked her to be my date to the formal.. She told me no, as I figured but I was still very hurt. So while I was waiting to get my certificate of graduation I felt horrible inside. Everyone started yelling boo!! Everyone started throwing papers and books down at me. And Tyler came down and started yelling in my face. And what I did next was by far the biggest mistake I've had. I socked Tyler in the face. I cracked to of his teeth and gave him a black eye. I had no mercy. I beat him to a pulp. No one said anything about it because Tyler didn't want this spreading around. I knew.... I knew he had something planned for me. Come formal I was by myself all dressed up eating by myself at a table. While everyone peered at me with pure hatred in their eyes. Then the unbelievable happened. She came up to me. She actually came up to me. Only if I knew.. She asked me to dance and she had gone up to the hired hand and requested a slow song. And me and her started to slow dance, just me and her. It was perfection, heaven on earth. Me getting my hopes up. She looked at me, as if she wanted to kiss me, and I was about to tell her.. And so with that.. She spit on my face, pulled my pants down, and everyone laughed. Everyone.. The only people that didn't laugh were my parents leaving out of shame for me. I was frozen in shock, in disbelief. In embarrassment. I'm shame.. I had been removed from any class that had her or any kids from my old school once I started high school. Which was the last thing I wanted. She hurt me really bad but if I could only just tell her how I felt everything would be ok. I was still bullies in high school. Still no friends. Except it got worse. People would fight me. They would come up to me and just beat me to the point I couldn't stand. While every one else would stand by and watch, and they laughed.. She laughed. I decided to run for class president, and I had lost on account of my speech not being good enough. Instead Tyler won. And he runner it in my face. And to make it worse. He found out I liked her. So he went and asked her out and they dated. Pretty soon I was still only thinking of her. When I finally had the chance to tell her how I feel.and as I was waling up to her. Being yelled at, at every step I make. I was ten feet away from her when Tyler knocked me out with one punch. I awoke in the hospital with her in the room with me. And I froze up. I had no idea what to do. But she went and sat on the bed I was laying on. She put her hand on mine. And told me there was absolutely no chance in hell of her even thinking of being with me. And she spat in my face, once again. And left. This was it. I'm done trying. I was done. I got up out of the bed, grapped her by the arm, and I held a scalpel to her throat. She kicked me and was able to escape, and I ran after her, I ran as fast as I could being weak and throwing up form the concussion that Tyler gave me. Exiting the hospital I grabbed her once again and threw her to the ground. I kicked and kicked and kicked and kicked. She was unconscious by the time I calmed down and I hd her in a near by park in the tree line. I decided driving would be the best option. I found the closest person I could and asked them for a ride, thankfully they were nice enough to take me back to the park. While asking him to wait I stepped out of the car, and went up to his window. And with the scalpel, I stabbed him in the head. Over and over and over again. I took his and her body and put them both in the trunk, and with my very low knowledge of driving I somehow made it back to my neighborhood safe in one piece. I took both of the bodies to a tunnel system that used to be for water drainage and left them there. The way our neighborhood is set up u was able to drive to Tyler's house within 15 minutes. I knocked on his door, and for the second time I beat him to a pulp. I then drove to Colby's house and instead of knocking him unconscious, I killed him, I pressed down on his head until the scalpel drove in deep into his head. I drove the bodies to the drainage system, and there was when I had to figure out what was to happen. I've been here for about two months now. I'm gonna need to go into town to get some groceries and gas. Tyler and Colby already have most of themslevs carved. The scalpels getting kinda dull. But in time. I'll be the one she wants. I'll be a mixture of the two guys she hung out with most. And I can finally tell her how I feel, I'll get some candles today, yeah I'll do that, and some good food, we'll sit by the light and she'll see how much I love her. And we'll be together. Forever.

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Life line This is a love story. Please try to remember that as you read this, love. It’s really about her... I knew from the moment I set eyes on her that I’d do anything to have her. Fortunately though, I didn’t have to work very hard. I could see it in her eyes the first time I talked to her and asked her out.  She wanted me to and she said yes before I even finished asking. Her eyes sparkle like diamonds, it’s one of my favorite things about her. We were quick to say “I love you”, only a few dates in, but we were sure. My group is full of my idiot friends and we’ve started talking about getting a place of our own.  My best friend, Greg, doesn’t get along the best with her and isn’t very happy about me moving out but he understands.   We all hang out together sometimes, see movies, bowl, normal stuff like that. Well, I got a call a couple nights ago from her parents, who live out of state. They said they got a call from the police and that she had been in a car accident. Drunk driver crossed the center line, what a cliché right? Anyway, I was panicked out of my fucking mind speeding like crazy to the hospital when she called me on my cell. I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw her name on the called ID. I answered the phone not quite letting myself get my hopes up just yet. After all, it could have been someone calling me from her phone. Relief washed over me like rain when I heard her voice: “Baby? I’m okay, it wasn’t that bad, just some bumps and bruises. The airbags and seat belt did all the work, are you okay?” I don’t mind admitting, I pulled over and cried for a long time. She said she was checking out of the hospital shortly and I could pick her up there. When I got to the hospital I had myself pretty well composed. I walked in and was just making my way to the help desk when I heard her call my name.  I turned around and saw her, the sparkle was out of her eyes (which wasn’t that surprising, I thought, considering what had happened), but otherwise seemingly none the worse for the wear. I completely lost what composure I thought I had. I broke down again and we held eachother and she slid her hand onto the back of my neck and into my hair like she does when I’m upset, and after a minute or two we made our way to my car. She told me the drunk driver had been killed, and I thought “good, better him than her” and I’m not the least bit ashamed of it. I would have killed him myself if I could have. But she was OK and that was all I cared about then. When we got back to my place no one was home and the house was dark, which was odd since there was almost always someone home and those idiot roommates of mine always forget to kill the lights when they leave. she was feeling a little chilly and she looked a little pale so we cuddled up under some blankets and fell asleep almost immediately. It had been a crazy, fucked up day after all. I remember the last thing she said to me as we were falling asleep: “I’ll love you forever, baby.” I called into work the next day to stay home with her, she was feeling pretty stiff, again not surprising. I had some missed calls from family and friends, no doubt they’d heard what happened and were checking in. I’d get back to them later. Maybe it was just the accident, or that I hadn’t seen her without makeup in… ever, but she didn’t look very good, I mean her color was off and her eyes looked slightly hollow.  And the sparkle still wasn’t there. I suggested taking her back to the hospital, but she insisted she was fine, just tired and sore. Well, a couple more days went by and I told work I was staying home with her until she was feeling better. But she wasn’t getting better. Her eyes were the worst of it. More hollow all the time, and her skin was downright cold to the touch. It was getting to the point where I was going to bring her back to the hospital, whether she wanted to go or not, and that was when I got the phone call. It was her mom. Her mom had been crying and was clearly making an effort to stay composed. Her daughter's service was to be held the day after tomorrow she said. I asked her mom what she was talking about, service for what? I was confused. She walked up to me as I stood there on the phone. She was looking right into my eyes when her mom said “I know this is hard for you, it’s hard for all of us, but she's gone and we can’t bring her back, we all loved her but she’s gone.” I still didn’t understand until I saw the look of horror in her eyes. She knew, this whole time she knew. She didn’t survive the accident yet somehow she was here and suddenly I understood. Her eyes: hollow and sunk in, the sparkle gone. Her skin, cold and discolored. She was dead and I was watching her slowly decay! My stomach dropped and I felt myself fall. She caught me, and I felt her cold hands and felt the coldness for what it was, death. I heard her mom on the phone, a tiny voice calling my name over and over. I picked up the phone and told her I was listening, while my love looked over me, and was silent the whole time. Her mom repeated that the service was the day after tomorrow and her body would be cremated at noon the next day. Numbly, I told her okay, thanked her, and told her I’d see her then. I hung up the phone and her and I just stared at each other for a long time. There was no doubt now, I was looking at someone who was not alive. Eventually I said one word:  How? She said she didn’t know, and she didn’t care. And you know what? Neither did I. She came with me to the service, and it wasn’t like what happens in the movies, where people walk through her like she’s not there or anything like that. They couldn’t see her, that much was obvious, but somehow no one bumped into her, and when they made space for me, it seemed they made space for her to, although they didn’t seem to know they were doing it. When I talked to her parents she was with me, silent but strong, for me. When I viewed her body she was with me. Her hand, (cold now, so cold) finding that spot on my neck. She looked exactly as she always had, beautiful, healthy. But I knew it was makeup and artificial. Underneath she would look exactly like the still beautiful version of her that had her cold hand on my neck. It was a hard thing, looking down at her, but she was so supportive and I knew this was why I loved her and couldn’t be without her. We left and went back to my place.  My roommates were home but stayed out of our way as we went to my room. That night we didn’t sleep, we just held each other and I didn’t care at all how cold she was. We cried, and talked. Laughed at the funny memories and cried more. We didn’t talk about what was happening or what was going to happen. As darkness began to lose the battle and light filled the sky, a horrifying thought occurred to me, and somehow I knew it would be true. I was seeing her as she was. I mean, literally seeing her as her body was. And she was set to be cremated at noon. Do you understand? She was to be burned until nothing would be left but ash and I would have to watch it happen. I was on the phone immediately to her parents, to the funeral home, to her church. No one would listen. They all thought it was grief. I felt rage and despair building inside me and was about to completely break down when I felt her hand on my neck, in that spot, and she turned my head so I was looking into her eyes, now very hollow and turning grotesque. She told me it was okay, it was okay. She told me she would love me forever and I knew in that moment what I was going to do. Those last few hours we watched the sun come up and what became a beautiful day. We watched clouds turn into funny shapes. As noon approached I made an excuse to go to my closet and then we waited. When noon hit we were both crying again, but nothing happened. We were  just starting to wonder what that meant when I saw the look in her eyes, just as before, she knew. She felt it before I saw it. She told me it didn’t hurt, it doesn’t hurt baby. She began to smoke and her hair caught on fire. A cold calm set over me and I took her tight into my arms. The flames began to burn me to. She tried to push me away, to protect me. She fought my hold but her strength was fading. I could feel the flames now burning into me but I didn’t care, I wouldn’t let her go through this alone and I didn’t need to live much longer anyway. We didn’t scream, we just sat there together and burned. Her hair was gone and her face and skin turned black and I held her tighter and to my chest. I told her I’d love her forever and that I’d see her soon. I held her, eyes clentched shut until she was ash in my arms and she fell through my fingers. I reached for what I had taken out of the closet, and suddenly she was gone, not a trace of her left. No ash remained anywhere, nothing was burned, even my own burns were gone. Was it grief? Did I imagine the whole thing? Was she ever here? I don’t know. But I wrote this so my family and friends know why I had to do this. I won’t stay here without her. I can’t. I’ll find her somehow and the sparkle will be in her eyes again and everything will be okay and like it was. Shed tell me evrything would be ok. Even if they wouldnt, its what I needed to hear right now. I’m sorry about this mom, dad. But I hope you understand. I’m going now, I hope I don't get any blood in this..

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#bass #loud # trendsetter

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