Will Toledo - Tumblr Posts
WILL’S NEW FURSONA IS SO CUTEE OUGHHHH
I LOVE U FOREVER HAMILTON !!!!!
(taken from the csh patreon, art by @RABBITPATCHES on twitter)
she said, “whats with this dog motif"
I said, “do you have something against dogs?"
I LOVE CAR SEAT HEADREST
So sick of dog motif what about cat motif.
I love you but we don't love the same. I can't be near you when you want me to be. Your love is smothering and your need to keep me safe is trapping me. I'm my own person but I don't know how to show you that. I lash out and hurt you even though I don't mean to. I need you to move slowly around me or I'll bolt. I love you, even though I don't say it. If you stay still I'll sit next to you, and even though we don't understand each other we can be together like that.
Car seat headrest doodle I did a while ago ^_^
maybe the real pain stars are the friends we made along the way :)
songs and high fives and . weird sex!
what's with this dog motif?
Never really understood why swifties would cry at Taylors shows until I found myself nearly crying while listening to car seat headrest covers and live performances once so I feel like I have to apologise.
Relapsed
Never really understood why swifties would cry at Taylors shows until I found myself nearly crying while listening to car seat headrest covers and live performances once so I feel like I have to apologise.
yours truly
dear s,
i find it is so much easier to live when i “separate the art from the artist”. in this case, i imagine your kind loving words have taken the form of some anonymous, generic body, living in some anonymous, generic location, maybe with no face or anything like that. maybe you—
dear s,
don’t mind the blood stained seat, i slit my wrists so much the other night, i wanted to kill myself. i should donate this car to a forensics lab. cause of death: blood loss and chronic numbness. thank god leather is easy to clean. i told him about this. i don’t know why. i was dying to tell someone, like a sick victory. and he proceeded with caution, i could feel his concerned, almost disgusted look on his face, through the text. like maybe he could be angry.
“i’m sorry, i really shouldn’t have done this,”
“i would rather you talk to me and tell me the truth and make things a lil harder for me than for you to not say anything at all and i have no clue how you are”
how could someone genuinely care about me so much? i don’t trust this. feels like a joke, a game, something that will end in fighting and tears because that’s all i know how to do.
and dear s, the other day i cried in my car and i asked you to grab my stuff and bring it to me, and you did. and you stayed with me until you knew i was going to be okay. but i couldn’t stop hyperventilating, shaking, sobbing, it wasn’t a panic attack. i broke down crying in front of these three grown men. i don’t remember what any of them were saying, i don’t remember why everything ended the way it did, i just knew i was upset, and i don’t even remember being upset. but i felt pathetic collecting myself in front of them, so i made myself cry, but soon i couldn’t help it, and that’s maybe when i started panicking. when the shaking wasn’t voluntary, when the erratic breathing wasn’t a joke, something like that.
dear s,
i’ve recently started to realize my childhood wasn’t as golden as i originally thought. i didn’t think anything was wrong until my mother started to profusely apologize for being a terrible parental figure to me, for the awful things she did to me as a kid. and i didn’t get it until i tried to convince her otherwise, until she told me i hide my emotions, until i was on the verge of tears, screaming at her in a parking lot.
“you know the reason i hide my emotions? because when i was a kid, you’d scream at me and hit me if i cried! and you only got worse if i cried harder, and i’d cry harder because you kept hurting me. you know how many migraines i’ve had because you’d hit my head so much? you know half the scars on my arms are because of your own hands? so i cry silently, and i know how to zone out when you scream at me so i don’t cry, but sometimes you think i’m smirking, and you end up hurting me anyways. i walk on eggshells around you because i don’t want to get hurt”
quietly, she tells me, “see, i did mess you up.”
i don’t know what came over me but its all starting to make sense.
she tells me stories of how her father treated her as a kid, somewhat similar to my experiences as a kid. she tells me she was diagnosed with ptsd, but didn’t know why. and it wasn’t until i was in middle school that she started to understand it. by then it was too late to change the damage that was already done.
dear s,
i almost checked myself into a hospital. but what would they do? give me more meds, a slap on the wrist, and send me on my merry way?
“this has nothing to do with you,” you tell me, but i can’t help but feel that this is all my doing.
but hey, maybe we’ve changed so much we wouldn’t recognize each other if we saw each other again. nothing so special about “us”.
yours truly,
леви
its not all about you, now, is it?
“i am almost completely soulless,”
i need to throw away everything in my room, throw away all my plants, throw away all my clothes, all my art,
“i am incapable of being human,”
i’m not thinking straight and i don’t remember how to calm down because everything i’m doing isn’t helping. i’ll try a different song, hell, an audiobook, deep breaths, god, i hate the feeling of coming down,
“i am incapable of being inhuman,”
why do i do this to myself again? its not unlike you to shit talk me backstage, and i’m sorry no one told you, (i thought someone would,) and its not unlike you to think everything is about you,
“i am living uncontrollably,”
(i watch your hair fall all over your face and i’ll look away and i’ll swear to never think about you like that again) and you’ll think that secret’s about you but its fucking not. i don’t think about you as much as you think i do.
(i’m lying to you and i’m lying to me,)
you, of all people, should understand, right? you should see through this, but you fucking don't.
don't you realize our bodies could fall apart at any second?
yeaghh…
