(via mssswitch)

(Source: fuckyeahrupaulsdragrace, via fag-lust)

i want it back. all of it. i want the giggly stupidity that i felt the day you brought that fucking CD onto my bus and then left. i want the surprise dates where you wore a tie and i wore my shortest skirt. the PBR’s at the skate park. the wine-and-cheese-and-bread-and-apple picnics in your car because bishops castle was just too damn cold to sit outside and eat it. the shows, the motel rooms, the drinks, the kissing, the driving to your house for late night sex, the all day phone conversations, the bicycle rides. 

and you stood at the top of lookout mountain and screamed

HEY, MAGEE HEADLEY IS BEAUTIFUL. 

and the drunk boulder kids one cliff down gave you such a look. and i had to run around and dance before i could talk. 

it was lovely for a while. that summer we drank and played music. i pretended to go to college. then i fucking did it. the thing we’d always talked about happening. wanting to be okay with it because it justified our non committal status. 

i fucked him. 

i didn’t make out. i didn’t snuggle or go on a date. i fucked him. i spent the night and i fucked him. 

that started it all. 

we went to portand, rafted down the river. stayed with my sister and faked being okay really really well. we ate pizza, we went to vegan restaurants, played video games. got a motel room. it was our first real vacation together as us. and i had already destroyed it. 

i was not blind to your alcoholism but i did a good job of drinking enough to be okay with it. in some twisted way my minor alcoholism prevented you from getting too drunk because you had to babysit me. but that was okay because a week after we got back from portland you decided we needed to talk. 

pagosa park. it was like a movie. we talked you yelled, i yelled. i said i needed to leave. half way across the field you yelled don’t go yet. please? i couldn’t stop crying we hugged. we decided to hang out. later that night i begged to not let this be the last time we “made love” 

we tried desperately hard. you made it clear you never wanted to talk about him ever again. morgan came back around blabbing and blabbing like she knew it. i increased my desire to kill her. you let me be your void filler. you’d drink. our band did shit. real shit. and we decided to move in together with my friend. 

this big huge collective adopted us into their folds and at first it was lovely. you went on date things with other girls and i pretended to be okay with it and when i wasn’t you’d remind me that i couldn’t complain. i’d already fucked someone else. 

the honey moon phase was glorious though. we’d drink. you’d drink more. then i met up with him again. not to fuck. to talk. and you destroyed me for it. for the first time someone asked me if i realized what the definition of verbal abuse was. i couldn’t argue for you. 

the remainder of the next year was spent in intervals of good and bad. mostly bad. you drank more. i stopped drinking.  i smoked too much weed, you drank too much. you got really angry when i “didn’t get the joke.” or “didn’t see the reality” i wanted to be naive and on my own in my first apartment in my 20’s and you were disappointed that i wasn’t as heartbroken and angry and as cynical as you. 

so you tried to make me that way. with the arguing and the yelling and the down pour of eternal insults and pointless sex we both engaged in. desperately hoping it would fix everything. but we just got angrier. at life, at eachother. 

you drank more 

i let you drink more. 

i smoked more weed. 

i stopped taking my medication. 

you drank more. 

and now here we are, you’re so drunk you don’t even leave your goddamn room and i just lay there and let you fuck me until you realize you have whiskey dick. and i blame myself for so much. and i’m so angry that we’re stuck like this that i’m stuck like this. our band has died. our love has died. we’re all moving out of this stupid apartment. probably to never talk to each other ever again. i have the undying need  to cry. all the fucking time. i’ve gotten fat. you’ve gotten thin. 

i get stoned and eat. 

you get drunk and vomit. 

you just play with my tits and beg to fuck. i push you away and beg to be held. we usually fuck because i don’t have the balls to say no to you. then we fight. in the past few days i’ve dug for excuses to not be at the house. told the housemates i was moving out. you’re moving out in two weeks. back to your parents and your mom who will take care of you the way you want. 

and then you just fucking came up to me while i was doing the dishes. and that stupid photo strip from portland is sitting on that fucking cupboard and you put your arm around me and pointed to it and said i want this back. but i don’t know how. 

now i’m writing this because darling i don’t know either. 
i want it back but were we really happy?  i was in love with you and you told me to stop doing so. you drunkenly threaten suicide almost nightly. or promise to get better. whichever you feel like. you never leave your room. i can’t sit still for five seconds. 

i want to be happy. i want to have my own bed too. 
i want you but i want you to respect and love me for who i am and what i want.

i want you without alcohol.
i want you without anger.

without this vengeful desire to hurt everyone around you who isn’t the exact same as you.

i want to cut off all those terrible layers of bullshit around you till i get to the center and find you and hold onto it until we die.  

but it will never happen until you’re sober. until i get back on my medication.
until we get out of this shit hole and move towards the things we need to do with our lives.

i love you.
but its making me oh so tired. and i can’t even rest.

i don’t know if its fixable. if we could ever make something this dysfunctional functional. all i know is i want to make it better. whatever that means or looks like, i want it. 

i’ve been asked a few times this week why kids in my generation/i personally seem so unhappy. 
i do not have any new information to contribute except for technology dependency, the downfall of the familial support system blah blah blah. so here’s a list of topics i’d like to bring to mental discussion. 

SEPTEMBER THE ELEVENTH

1. we were born into a decade that was evidently full of awesome shit and barely started remembering before grunge music died. 

2. we are told that a college degree is the only way to go anywhere in life and yet there is no human way for any of us to accumulate that amount of money. 

3. feminists are too busy arguing about the definition of feminism to even be feminists any more. we are left to cling to the role models of women past who died before we even bought a walkman. 

4. anarchists are so busy in meetings they forget to fuck shit up anymore. 

5. all the revolutionaries are dead. 

6. we are all approaching the age of realization when you discover how horrid adults really are. 

7. no one wants to make me veggie chik’n nuggets and tatertots therefore i have to die. 

8. house divisions. nuff said. 

9. i have to pay utilities now? 67 dollars for water and heat shit is fucked. 

10. hawthorne heights lied to us. 

11. THEY FUCKING LIED

AUGUST TWENTY FOURTH

24 things that i miss

1.that moment right up there

2. when listening to coldplay was cool

3. when i didn’t have to pay bills

4. when my turtles tank was clean

5. the way you used to get excited to see me

6. driving to boulder to see shows and staying in that off the highway motel

7. getting so drunk i don’t remember getting from point a to point b and it actually felt good

8. when life was a little more romantic and less about fighting to survive

9. when cigarettes didn’t hurt so fucking much

10. when i knew what was real and what was just people whining

11. when i knew the same about myself

12. when my only crush was david bowie 

13. when best friends stayed up in their pjs having ramen and mangoes

14. everything pre atlanta

15. everything pre-car crash

16. when i didn’t want to move 

17. when the walking dead was on

18. when i painted

19. when certain people were still alive

20. when you could actually make some noise in this town

22. when people liked that noise

23. my neon pink skinny jeans and sketchers platforms

24. also my crushed velvet metallic green leggings 

listlesslylisting:

AUGUST TWENTY THIRD

TWENTY THREE THINGS YOU SHOULD STOP ASKING YOUR FRIENDS IN BANDS 

1. What time are you guys playing? / we don’t fucking know. 

2. Can you put me on the guest list?/ are you  my partner? are you my bestie? are you someone who has been a supporter of my music and/or the venue? if the answer to all of these questions is no. then no. 

3. Who are you playing with?/ its called a flyer kids, i just handed it to you. 

4. Can I get a ride?/ my car is full of band equipment and bandmates

5. What genre are you?/ I DON’T FUCKING KNOW

6. When are you playing next? / don’t ask me this unless you’re going to book me. 

7. When are you recording? / when you pay for it jackass. 

8. What was that last song a cover of? / myself. writing songs i wrote by myself. 

9. What it like having 3 girls in your band? Are your periods sync’d? / ITS AWESOME AND YES. 

10. Do you do costumes? / no. 

11. Are you looking for a producer?/ have you heard of punk rock? 

12. What  other bands do you sound like?/ none. thats why we aren’t those bands. 

13. So do you get paid?/ on paying gigs yes. however thats not what i’m in it for. 

14. Lets sing a song together!/ (not a question but equally as annoying) and let me hear your music first plzthx. 

15. Can you host this show?/is that just a denver question?

16. When are you going on tour?/ once again WHEN YOU PAY FOR IT CAUSE WE SURE DON’T HAVE THE CASH. 

17. Can you get me a drink on your tab?/ welp. i get 2 free drinks, so are you going to talk to me about life or just walk away w/ your free drink?

18. Who is your biggest inspiration?/ you. for thinking of the most original question. 

19. Do you wanna collaborate? / lets hear your record first. 

20. Do you have a bandcamp/soundcloud/myspace/facebookpage? / DID YOU NOT JUST HEAR ME PLAY. 

21. What would you call your style? / mine. 

22. Would you like to do an interview about being a{queer,female,frontwoman, other describers} musician in denver ? / sure. except you could just interview me. and forget all of those other labels. 

23. Whats the history behind the band name?/ NOTHING BUT HAIRCUTS 

DISCLAIMER- this is pretty sarcastic. i love being in a band. also being part of a music community/scene like the one that denver has. that being said sometimes shit gets redundant. 

lgbtqgmh:

dontcancelonme:

Tegan and Sara - August 2012 Under The Radar Cover

[Tegan and Sara hold a sign that reads, ‘The rights of the minority should never be subject to the whim of the majority’]

(via lgbtgivesmehope)