I’ve been on an extended weekend holiday with the boyf in Amsterdam and boy howdy they should be calling it Slam-Your-Man-sterdam because we are having tons of gay sex like a coupla fags
Hey all! I really meant to do this earlier, but better late than never, and the fundraiser is still active and about halfway to where it needs to go, so:
Thank you all for helping me out back in May The support means the world to me, and thanks to your kind contributions I was able to go and visit my boy in Britain. I'll try and mock up a proper recap blog—though I am notoriously terrible at doing those, I don't think I've ever managed a proper recap blog for any of the various conventions I've gone to over the years. I guess there was
Ive listened to it and it's beautiful. Thanks for telling me it was out.
Regarding your recent post about your attempt. I'll tell you my point of view, the impression of a guy that contemplated the idea not just once, but never did go through the act. I've often be in my bed, alone, struck down by the feeling of being overwhelming, crushed, ripped apart. I don't believe in god, and I fear death as the ugliest thing ever. And I lie everyday in my same bed, thinking, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die... again, and again. It hurts, like a void, an anchor that drags me down, down, and down. It's like wanting to scream,knowing you could scream to shatter your own throat, but never do. As much as I desire to scream. None will answer. It burns. So much. Like craving to sink my nails in my chest and skin myself of the skin, hatred, loneliness.
Lost, that how I feel. Cut off the world. Split apart. Forlorn. Drifting.
And yet, in spite of all of this, feeling, contemplating the void every day, every minutes, every seconds, always called back to it by the meaninglessness of our actions. I persevere. I don't know why. I just know that I must.
I must because I'm searching for something. Happiness. Simple, plain happiness. And may this happiness goes on the aeons to come.
The search is worth the pain. That quest is worth the pain. I'm seeking for the smile, the feeling of being complete. Maybe I won't find it. Maybe will I find it. But what drives me not to kill myself is that I prefer dying happy than forlorn, beaten, bore at, shattered.
maybe happiness is just a ghost in the attic, but being happy is, I think, a goal worth pursuing.
I hope you can find happiness, as much as I desire it to me.
2245972 Oddly enough, while the antlers are one of the saddest bands I can think of, they have very few songs about suicide. Bust Apart, full of burning houses and dying pets, even ended on a hopeful note.
Song is so chill...
#savetree
Epic pic i like how it looks.
#savetree
i.imgur.com/7HFBWMz.png
for every tree destroyed, a new sapling is growing
Long time no see a "The Antlers" post from you.
Glad we share the same love for that chilling band.
2242675 god, they're so good
have you listened to Familiars yet?
2243388
no, I'm going straight away listening to it.
2243575 it's a beautiful record
2243388
Ive listened to it and it's beautiful. Thanks for telling me it was out.
Regarding your recent post about your attempt. I'll tell you my point of view, the impression of a guy that contemplated the idea not just once, but never did go through the act. I've often be in my bed, alone, struck down by the feeling of being overwhelming, crushed, ripped apart. I don't believe in god, and I fear death as the ugliest thing ever. And I lie everyday in my same bed, thinking, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die... again, and again. It hurts, like a void, an anchor that drags me down, down, and down. It's like wanting to scream,knowing you could scream to shatter your own throat, but never do. As much as I desire to scream. None will answer. It burns. So much. Like craving to sink my nails in my chest and skin myself of the skin, hatred, loneliness.
Lost, that how I feel. Cut off the world. Split apart. Forlorn. Drifting.
And yet, in spite of all of this, feeling, contemplating the void every day, every minutes, every seconds, always called back to it by the meaninglessness of our actions. I persevere. I don't know why. I just know that I must.
I must because I'm searching for something. Happiness. Simple, plain happiness. And may this happiness goes on the aeons to come.
The search is worth the pain. That quest is worth the pain. I'm seeking for the smile, the feeling of being complete. Maybe I won't find it. Maybe will I find it. But what drives me not to kill myself is that I prefer dying happy than forlorn, beaten, bore at, shattered.
maybe happiness is just a ghost in the attic, but being happy is, I think, a goal worth pursuing.
I hope you can find happiness, as much as I desire it to me.
2243620
oh god i teared up a bit
thank you so much
2243898
Live, that's all you can do
2245972 Oddly enough, while the antlers are one of the saddest bands I can think of, they have very few songs about suicide. Bust Apart, full of burning houses and dying pets, even ended on a hopeful note.
They're honestly beautiful.
2246742
Kettering is the song I prefer, but it may be the saddest.
Thunderclaps...
Thunderclaps...
2246793 Two and Wake hit me the hardest. Two has a simple, deceptive acoustic riff, and poetic, devastating lyrics, and Wake...
oh god my emotions
2246819
I'll have to listen them again once I'm back from work.
2246819
Not my favourites, but I concede you've got taste.