brutal n bratty | bet that she’ll never be happy 🥀 | halsey stan | photographer | visual storyteller
Don't wanna be here? Send us removal request.
Text
The early nights are confusing for the soul, but the forced retirement might do me some good. We went to a dance party. We were the youngest ones there and it was beautiful watching people a decade older than me find joy in nostalgia. I loved Anora. I miss New Jersey. I have been making Christmas ornaments by hand for my future family. I have been taking care of my mother. She has good days and bad. All of this in the few moments between the work and the work and the work. Confetti shot out of a Canon once the crowd already left the building. I feel as though it was all for nothing. It’s a dry, cold, itch. Maybe I’ll hide again until a tour when the sun comes back. Maybe I won’t make a sound. Maybe I’ll sleep. Maybe I’ll choose different this time with my restart to zero, my bonus life I pulled from a box. And pull from a box with a needle every 3 weeks. Maybe maybe maybe. Maybe I fixed everything so I could do this one thing again, without realizing that one thing was what needed fixing. I am tired and I forgot how to have fun. I complain too much and I should keep it to myself, I’ve been told a lot the past few weeks. But the thing is that I can’t. I have an unrelenting ache and a never ending whine that must crank out of me like a tornado siren in the dark. That’s what’s been wrong with me the entire time, couldn’t they see? I’ve always needed to be seen to exist. But now they don’t see me, and I’m still existing. Perhaps, problem solved. Regrettably.
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
i loved one direction with an all-consuming force when i was younger. it hurts deeply to mourn someone you were a massive fan of as teenager, and became a peer of as an adult.
i know people change and grief is unsure or complicated when it’s attached to a fond memory or the feeling a person gave you and not tangibly the person themself. i can see many of you on here are struggling with that right now and i understand.
a few years ago i purchased a home that Liam previously owned. there were rumors the house was haunted. He assured me it was not, and i believed him. because i know the ghosts that haunt us aren’t tethered to buildings. They live in parts of us that are harder to reach and they go wherever we do.
as a parent, a fellow artist, and a fan, i simply cannot fathom this untimely loss. my heart goes out to his family, friends, and the fans. 💔
6K notes
·
View notes
Text
Did you guys know that I have over 28 SINGLES that are platinum or multi platinum? I have 2 that are diamond. All this is the US alone. I’m also one of the only artists in history to *replace themselves* (!!!) at #1 on the radio.
But. Did you know my most critically acclaimed album was also my worst selling? My only Grammy nominated album is the one without a single hit?
Listen, album time is coming and I see a lot of people nostalgic for the before-times for varying (and opposing) reasons and I just want to say: They won’t all be Manic. They won’t all be If I Can’t Have Love I Want Power. They won’t be Badlands because it won’t be the first time again, and they won’t be HFK because they all have to be different. They are all something new. They all become something unique.
If I wrote music, recorded it, and you listen to it? Then I’ve done what I’ve come here to do. The zeitgeist is fickle. And I just have to do the same thing every time. Write it, record it, release it. How it’s received and how it performs isn’t up to me. It’s not even up to you. (Well it’s a little bit up to you) but mostly it’s up to something entirely cosmic that I co-exist with. I am places I never dreamed I would be.
I can’t wait to see what (or who) The Great Impersonator will become.
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
My own fans are hands down meaner to me than any other people on the planet. Not speaking for all of you, of course. But it used to be just a minority that were awful to me and now it seems like a majority have only stuck around to chime in occasionally with their opinion of how much they hate me or how awful I am. it’s hard to want to engage in a space that is completely devoid of any kindness, sympathy, patience; or to be honest human decency. Especially after years of hiding from the interactions for fear that this EXACT thing would happen. I don’t know man. I almost lost my life. I am not gonna do anything that doesn’t make me happy anymore. I can’t spiritually afford it.
When I got sick all I could think about was getting better so I could come back and be a part of THIS again, but I don’t even know what *this* is anymore and I want to crawl in a hole and I regret coming back.
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
me towards the end of the lucky video: oh that’s so beautiful, it’s ending with them meeting their younger self and making peace with their future :’)
the actual ending: your younger self is dead. you can never return to that little girl but you will spend your life wishing you could. you killed her to become what you are. why are you crying?
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
I’ve been keeping a secret for longer than I can handle and this album is my confession. Admission. Plea for kindness. Cry for help. Hand held out and extended. Promise of faith. Solemn nod in the face of “oh my god”. My sideways smile of radical acceptance. I love you so much and I thank the heavens for every single note that left my mouth in the making of.
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
The window pane is 20 knives, all cutting through my fragile life. Someone new peeking through the room. I fear the name you whispered is mine, I’ll know it soon. I’m headless, I’m just limbs. I think they’re coming in. I already died, so this is extra time. I already died, so now I see it open eyed. I already died, so I am justified. I already died. There’s nothing you can say to change my mind.
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
when it rains it pours,
but how big must a puddle grow
before it is considered a pond?
when does a pond become a lake?
i’m drowning,
but i insist that i’m dry.
insist i couldn’t die.
now every single day is overtime.
is extra credit.
is derealized.
i’m drowning but i
wring my clothes
and promise that i’m dry.
it’s good for the flowers, they say.
that’s very good.
you’ll need them soon.
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
I’ve been on my knees since I was 5.
In the chapel,
in a bedroom,
in an alley late at night.
Always facing an inflated
godlike
version of some guy.
But as a girl you do what you need to survive.
You open wider, take the body.
Thank your father, you’ve been naughty.
2 Hail Marys, 20 lashings.
“I’ve been sent to punish you for daring to exist.
You will never know a love as meaningful as this.”
I’ve memorized
the lines
since I was 10.
From the Bible,
from the playbook,
from the magazines for men.
If you should mess it up, you’ll start again.
But, still, they only want
the women
they condemn.
I think that I’d have too much fun in hell.
With the pagans
and the hedonists
and sapphics there as well.
Purgatory seems the better fit
I can’t stand waiting in the corner,
but I do love being hit.
There’s not a torture you can prescribe
that I wouldn’t find
a way to like.
Every single second I’m alive
I’m sharpening an axe I’d like to grind.
“I was sent to punish you
for the way I was designed.
You will never know a love
that you fear more than mine.”
- “God Fear a Woman” 2023
6K notes
·
View notes
Text
Perhaps it victimizes me to admit that I am expertly betrayed. Easily taken advantage of. I am not a martyr. I am The Devil’s Professional Advocate. I will put myself in your shoes till my flesh melts with the soles. And in these trappings not made for me, my clumsy and stumbling gait walks me into gaping pits of disillusion. Bear traps set in a forest by those who know I will stop to admire the leaves and search for beetles on their backs who need rescuing. I suppose that I owe my survival to a magic trick I learned (earned?) when I was young:
“Leave your body, and go somewhere else.”
I became such a skilled dis-associator that I split in two. Peel myself straight down the middle like the plastic backing of a bandaid. Astral project into a timeline where I haven’t made whatever grave error in character judgement has landed me in my terrible predicament. I have been asked 100 times what the difference is between Halsey and Ashley and I have never answered honestly. The truth is that I built her, as a child, to protect the tender core that lies beneath. In a confusing chain of events, my maladaptive daydream became my full time reality. My armor can walk and talk and they look just like me. But you can’t hurt us anymore,
Because one of us is not real.
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
On betrayal
Julius Caesar, Shakespeare//Lily Chatterjee
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
592 notes
·
View notes
Text
Favorite lyrics / Love From The Other Side by Fall Out Boy
170 notes
·
View notes