last seen downtown under the bridge at the local park writing small graffiti in fine-tipped sharpie. the last person she texted was her was one of her friends who isn’t an acquaintance, nor a “bestie”, but will turn out to be a person she won’t care about in three years. the last person she talked to on the phone was her uncle, about five days before, asking her to run to wal-mart to buy more six-packs. the last facebook post she made was “I hate drama!!! Some people need to realize!”. she’ll be okay. the last picture she posted on instagram was a picture of poetry she wrote on google drive instead of her english paper on john steinbeck. the last book she read was probably by ellen hopkins. the last person she talked to in person was the shady character with her under the bridge at the local park who caught her attention by stealing her fine-tipped sharpie right from her hand. that’s what the witnesses say. her family is worried. her friends are a bit more worried. but she’s okay, she’s secluded herself in the next part of town over, and she’s hiding out making her entrance once the disappearance isn’t fresh in their minds anymore. it depends how they think of it.
"So katie, i need to think of a quality text post for my tumblr blog that’s called ‘possible god dot tumblr dot com’. what sh—what. what?"
“gynecologist salt, here we come”
“what? … it’s gold … don’t look at me like that”
“oh, i’m not looking at you like anything, katie. except because of how beautiful that is—”
“—you usually don’t look at me like anything—”
“—that i had to benefit a joke for my tumblr blog, which is called ‘possible god dot tumblr dot com’.”
“do you know what i wish your tumblr blog was called?”
“‘Therazoredgeislame2015 [dot tumblr dot com]’.”
“oh, well that’s just unpleasant of a name.”
I’m making a knockoff brand of dr. pepper titled mortician salt, it’s a fresh idea right from the oven, but as for how it taste like, it’ll probably taste like paint fumes smell. it’s 21 flavors instead of the usual 23 because of modern-day minimalistic tactics
Forests and cabins and streetlights, serial killers, orange and black leaves, just rained, your sister is buried out there, train tracks, men in the distance, abandoned industrial building Midwest nightmare there is more shit in the forest than there is mindpower to comprehend every true ghost out there.
There is a reason that slenderman stories, witch house, and photos of bodies from serial killings share a tone and aesthetic and you may be repressing your experience cuz who wants to remember that?
i was just outside taking a night walk and there was a car that zoomed right past me and it was going 35 mph on a 25
it had 3 people in it & all the lights were on inside so i could see that there was a massive amount of smoke in there like they were smoking something maybe just tobacco since they didnt seem goofy enough for mary jane & they were blasting what sounded to be some hip hop that i can only get a little bit of the hype from
what im saying is that im going to remember that for the rest of my life and its a memory imprinted in my brain and i hope youre ok with that
Read 12:35 AM
In love based on what you imagine her thinking about in her time to spare instead of what she’s really all about and what’s she thinks you’re really all about (she doesn’t think you’re capable of being all the hot stuff by the way)
a photo of them laying in bed with his hand on her butt with the sheets snake-like draped across them is circulating on tumblr with 7000 notes, and you don’t think they’re a powerhouse couple? i better tell you something, they’re something else.
is a more powerful weapon than you realize. you can drag, you can highlight, process things and tell it where to go. just be like “hey, why don’t you go that way?”
yeah man, she totally doesn’t want to talk to you, i don’t get it, whenever she talks to you, her eyes get that twinkle, or maybe there’s suddenly extra lighting in the room when she talks to you, and whenever you pitch a good idea to her, she starts to noticeably try to keep her knees unlocked while standing, or maybe she happens to have poor circulation, and i think she’s trying to avoid you because she loves you man, i can’t believe it
hmmm. it’s 11:30 at nite. no one’s going to read this anyways. we’ll go to bed in the backyard and make sure that every curtain that’s possible to be draped over their vantage point of us is draped. get captured in that natural pitch black, ok? no such things as beds in backyards. somehow getting transported to the only sex shop in the local city.