are the worst. This morning, I heard “til I die… til I die…” and then the room faded to gray and everything felt like death. It’s like a bad trip except I didn’t ingest anything… I hate sleep paralysis.
“don’t put up with anyone who puts you down”
to the woman i’ve grown to love, trust, and confide in;
then find out that you’ve told people that i’m crazy
psychotic
off the deep end
“don’t listen to her”…
that fucking hurts.
(via meganiga)
Andy & Frankie & Jeff. These pics are from May 3 when we saw Armin at the Palladium. I already miss them. What a night……..
i was going through my facebook chat log with my dad, and came across this. this is a father-daughter bond i wouldn’t trade for the world. he’s into the electronic music scene too, is a veteran DJ from where i grew up, knows what PLUR is, and loves above & beyond as much as i do. i don’t know too many people who can say the same about their dad :’)
I don’t owe you anything. Not a single penny. YOU owe ME. You switched the story around and made yourself the victim. But it’s not anger that I feel toward you, as much as I feel pity. For you and your future. Your reputation will follow you around for as long as you are this type of person. I may not be perfect but at least I try to be the best person I can be toward others. Your motives, on the other hand, are entirely selfish. You’ve fucked over not only me but several people in my rave family… Not cool. Say whatever lies about me you want, ‘cause what you say about me says more about yourself than it does about me. Oh and by the way, I find it funny how you call yourself a “founder”… I don’t care how good you are at gloving; you didn’t do shit to help the club, were always late, didn’t show up to practice half the time. Also pretty ironic how your tumblr shows off that you’re all about PLURR when your actions show anything but that… I honestly feel incredibly sorry for you. Your actions will catch up with you someday. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but hey, karma’s a bitch and then some. Ta ta, motherfucker.
i’m just not sure where it is or what it looks like
It took a year to process, but it is very much here now. And it is agonizing. There is a mixture of disappointment toward myself and anger toward him.
Disappointment toward myself for not being stronger. For being so dependent on him that I couldn’t find it in my heart to stop his actions because I needed him there as my best friend. For internalizing his point of view and actually believing that his actions were “okay”… identifying with him… “understanding” his point of view and therefore accepting the idea of me being his outlet. “Friends helping friends”… fuck that guy.
Anger at him for taking what could have been a great friendship, complete with raves and trance events, and turning it into sexual abuse. For him having been completely aware that I was in a vulnerable mental state, taking advantage of it. For having the nerve to call me his best friend. For not appreciating the nice things I did for him. For accusing me of avoiding him for a year, when friendship is a TWO-WAY street. It’s not my job to contact you all the time in order to keep seeing each other; in fact, I ALWAYS texted first except for maybe three occasions. Anger for how he ignored my suicidal texts, then gave me a sarcastic response four days later.
Most fucked up friendship ever, that’s for sure.
A recording microphone.
Nothing too fancy… just something durable. The last one I had was for $4 from Ross. It broke within 2 weeks and I never got another one. This was about 7 years ago. I’ve been connecting more and more with the 88 keys. They take over the paths my words are unable to travel.
