The names Christian but alot of people call me Christopher. I'm 20. Transman. Chicago. I'm friendly so feel free to ask/tell me anything.Ask me anything Submit
the scariest thing about the Hunger Games films is when Caesar Flickerman legitimately makes you smile because he is the one that turns this twisted fight to the death into mindless entertainment for the masses and in that moment you realize that just for a second it worked on you.
Last night I thought I kissed the loneliness from out your belly button. I thought I did, but later you sat up, all bones and restless hands, and told me there is a knot in your body that I cannot undo. I never know what to say to these things. “It’s okay.” “Come back to bed.” “Please don’t go away again.” Sometimes you are gone for days at a time and it is all I can do not to call the police, file a missing person’s report, even though you are right there, still sleeping next to me in bed. But your eyes are like an empty house in winter: lights left on to scare away intruders. Except in this case I am the intruder and you are already locked up so tight that no one could possibly jimmy their way in. Last night I thought I gave you a reason not to be so sad when I held your body like a high note and we both trembled from the effort.
Some people, though, are sad against all reason, all sensibility, all love. I know better now. I know what to say to the things you admit to me in the dark, all bones and restless hands. “It’s okay.” “You can stay in bed.” “Please come back to me again.
This is so sad and incredibly relavant.
I feel like I am the person they are describing.