I Am Pete Wentz - Tumblr Posts

future past:

because its everything, no, everything was never the deal. shut the door on terrible times. my shoes are an altar: remembrance: the things i love. can i trust you? would you lie to me? i wish i could disappear into the ground. be wiped from everyone's memory. i was never here, i never existed. maybe i'll wake up. i don't remember my first out of body experience. i don't remember my last. its amazing, the things you miss when you aren't paying. paying attention. i'm not ready for the questions. the stares. the comments. i've faced enough alienation in my life, and i don't need more. i don't enjoy it. but i worship it: alienation. he gave me words, no, he took me by the neck, threw me against a wall, and shoved it down my throat. and i will worship it. do i tell her? should i wait until i'm older? would you lie to me? i run in these circles. its your choice: my diary is an open book and you can decide if you want to know everything about me. its a tv series, you can't miss an episode unless you want to be lost. i'm the only fan of this one, i may be the only one that fully understands my story. my references. i may be the only one to ever read my writing in its entirety. someday i want to help the kids. not because i am good at comforting, but because i can show them there is hope for the future. i want to be what i've never had. growing up is terrifying, and all i see are unhappy adults. not just you, mom. its everyone. everyone's miserable. i can't spend the rest of my life wandering dead mall halls, sunny "self care days" drag on for years, and before you know it, i've wasted my life on never growing up. they tell me to be a kid now. i'm already feeling the stress of someone far older than me. and all i can do about it is lay idle in bed. she says i'm depressed. its not something i'm new to, but its something i'm beginning to fully realize the extent of its ass kicking abilities. showering isn't a chore for everyone. getting out of bed isn't dreadful for everyone. friends aren't terrible. i miss that glorious time when i loved my friends. now it feels like haven't been loved in years: i don't know what it is with you and the joy you suck out of my life all while making me think you're the best thing thats ever happened to me. don't feel sorry for me, i've never been better. i feel exhausted just getting out of bed and crossing my bedroom. i don't know how i'm still functional. i'm barely keeping it together. but maybe someday i'll be something. maybe i'll look back on this and think: realize: i'm delusional. the most beautiful thing ever is how these words withstand the years of seasons changing, wind battering the shit out of me, golden, heat, sub-zero. these are just glimpses of feelings turned thoughts turned words. maybe this is who i really am. thirty years from now i'll be on the same hamster wheel in my head, running in these same circles. peace: is a boat on the atlantic ocean. 50°f. overcast day. me and kafka ride up the shore, canadian water. back home theres vinyls. stonewall. silence. but for now i'm a---

i find its a lot easier to understand my window of tolerance nowadays than i ever have before. i think its funny: i can look back and see when i was thinking rationally rather than when i wasn't. and its all thanks to different circumstances. being overwhelmed isn't an excuse to be an asshole, however, being overwhelmed is an excuse to be an asshole. honestly, i'm transcribing every word in my head as it comes. and you eat this shit right up. god, am i a disillusioned rockstar already? god, i'm so tired. god, are you real? rocks and stars, hell, the rockstars say you aren't. someone outta put a bullet in his head. for now i'm twenty two twenty twenty two twenty twenty two twenty twenty two twenty and its only a matter of time before you're crossing country borders to run from what you're doing. soon everyone will know. you go against all the ethos, pathos, and logos, or maybe just ethics. its. a grey conversation.

rush week

she’s really drunk. she loves her boyfriend, and wishes she was a man.

she’s adamant. she wishes she was a man. she used to wear a binder everyday, but then she met her boyfriend.

and her boyfriend wouldn’t love her if she was anything but who she’s pretending to be.

“i wish i was a man,”

“you know, i used to have these thoughts a lot before i realized i was trans.”

i’m stone cold sober.

“i’ve been ignoring it for years, wait do you want a white claw?”

i walked into this party with a shaking body, but i put on a happy face and talk to my friends. but they know its an act.

i chug my drink. i want to be drunk.

“are you alright?”

a lot of people have asked me this lately. i used to be good at hiding it. there must be something in the way i carry myself, or the lack of light in my eyes when i smile.

“yeah, just really fucking depressed. i don’t want to be here but i know i should go through the motions.”

i feel fine, but my body won’t keep up. i’m getting migraines a few days every week. i stopped getting my period. sometimes all the lymph nodes in my body swell up. sometimes i get so dizzy i can’t walk straight. (i started writing again)

i don’t have the energy anymore to keep up with a room full of laughing friends. my body language falters, the smile in my eyes is gone, my apparent apathy // disenchantment comes through.

but whatever.

“you’re so cool. you shouldn’t be sad, you have so much swagger.”

she’s medicated and four beers in.

i should join a frat. not sure i could do another cult though. i gotta stop going all in on an institution.

i don’t know how to end this. just kept getting worse. i wanna sleep.