#he's got depersonalization issues. he's everybody's pawn. he's an nft bro

[onomatopiya]

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babe wake up anthony mental illness compilation dropped

transcript below the cut:

Here was something you didn’t hear in the interviews: Anthony Mason fucking hated mirrors.

Sheets covered every mirror in his bedroom, and he averted his eyes around reflective surfaces at every opportunity; when he was younger, he’d hidden under tables and rocked himself, his eyes squeezed shut to avoid meeting his own gaze. It had been enough of a concern for his parents to consider finding him counseling, but they hadn’t wanted word to get out that their heir wasn’t right in the head. In the end, Anthony learned to hide his terror behind a perfect smile, and no one had spoken on it since.

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Twenty-one was found in cheap clubs and the sun on his face, in boys kissed in the shadows and eyeliner smeared dark under his eyes. Twenty-one was a pulse beating frantic against his wrist. Freedom so limitless it ached. Beautiful ugliness that he’d never gotten to taste.  Anthony didn’t feel twenty-one. Sometimes he hardly felt a year old.

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He wasn’t living in his parents’ shadows. He was the puppet doing tricks on their stage. First and foremost, Anthony Mason was an heir, investment, figurehead—he was theirs. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t have been anyone else. He didn’t know how.  

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“I couldn’t do this without you,” he exhaled, and he saw the way Lahar swallowed, the tips of his ears red. “You have no idea what this means to me.”

“What does this mean to you, Anthony?” Lahar asked, quiet, his voice wavering with the same nervous energy that thrummed through Anthony’s veins as he stepped close enough for them to share breaths.

Everything, Anthony thought, and kissed him.