noah-constrictor3

[noah-constrictor3]

want more juice but i drinked it all. this is, i cannot stress this enough, utterly fucked

[noah-constrictor3]

fell asleep in my stage blacks in the middle of typing in the youtube search bar last night. the way god intended

[noah-constrictor3]

google search how to stop feeling unloveable

[noah-constrictor3]

call me joe the way i’m. i’m so sleepy. sleepy joe.

[noah-constrictor3]

dick game so bad i dont even have one

[noah-constrictor3]

[noah-constrictor3]

can i kill myself for a second

[noah-constrictor3]

they call me an undercover agent. the way i’m. under the covers :) cozy in bed :)

[noah-constrictor3]

I hate hate hate being in a society that will always place romantic love above platonic love. I hate how its seen as something more, rather than just something different. I hate it seems the norm that you will have one (1) love in your life that will always be a priority to friends. I hate that caring about your friends first is seen as something childish that you grow out of. I hate the only time in (non kid) media you really see true platonic camaraderie is in fighting/war films, which usually has a layer of misogyny, or otherwise seen through a romantic lens (or both).

I don't need to be more important to someone than everyone else in their life, but man I wish I knew someone that centered platonic love the way I do.

[noah-constrictor3]

sometimes i think "well maybe i'm not actually depressed" and then i catch myself going about daily life feeling 85% certain that human existence is probably some sort of purgatorial punishment for sins committed by the soul in some vaster cosmic past life

[noah-constrictor3]

they need to invent somewhere where I belong

[noah-constrictor3]

"there is no platonic explanation for this--"

I fell asleep in my friends' arms. It was eleven at night, we were tired, curled up in a small pile on my tiny bed. I had my head buried in my roommate's side, and one of my closest friend's hand on my shoulder, steadying me. It was quiet and nothingness and peace and their heartbeats in my ears, my hands in their hair.

"there is no platonic explanation for this--"

We pack four people to that little bed, you know. Laps used as footrests, collarbones as pillows, little lights like moonlight in rustic yellow bathed on their faces. The TV plays an anime. The words are repeated by my dear friend on my shoulder, curled close. My legs are asleep; my roommate may be, too.

"there is no platonic explanation for this--"

The cat curls on top of our criss cross mess of legs and arms and heads on chests to absorb the warmth of us all. She purrs in contented peace. When my roommate and I are left alone in the quiet, she cries, and watches the door for our friends' return.

"there is no platonic explanation for this--"

I will never kiss them but the top of their heads. I will never touch but the warmth of their arms. I will never take more than what's freely given, and in return I put my glasses on the bedside table fashioned from a guitar amp, and when I lean into their sides, I pick up my vulnerability and place it in their capable, tender hands.

"there is no platonic explanation for this--"

I sing for them. I cry for them. I work and I run and I withstand the worst of the world for them, because some days I get to cradle their forehead on my shoulder and some days I get to see their shining eyes.

"there is no platonic explanation for this--"

Maybe to you. But look beyond explanation. I love them. With my heart in my unsteady hands, with my nose pressed to the side of their head, with the buzzing in my feet and the warmth all around Iike the sunset pushing into the window.

"there is no platonic explanation for this--"

Is it enough to say I love them? With no strings attached? With reckless abandon and utter devotion and freedom and kindness and fear?

"there is no platonic explanation for this--"

I cannot explain it any clearer. I love my friends. There is no more to say.

[noah-constrictor3]

maybe this time picking at Textures on my skin will lead to being silky smooth

[noah-constrictor3]

hanging out with me means you gotta get a post hangout text. either sentimental and sappy or “do you hate me”

[noah-constrictor3]

back to the habit of biting my lips so bad they bleed

[noah-constrictor3]

having a transgender night (getting a haircut that you hate so much you can’t look yourself in the mirror)

[noah-constrictor3]

what do you mean I can't control everything, why not