‘Don’t ever let ’em turn you down’ — Panic! At The Disco, Say It Louder — A singular singularity Don’t even fit their forms of non-conformity You’ve never been the one They wanted you to be And when they look at you? What on earth do they see? Cos when they look at me like that I don’t think they’re seeing me #WritingPrompt: odd one out…

…Does anyone else overthink this whole ‘social media’ thing? — Warning: this post discusses Anxiety What are you doing? Answer it!. They’re going to think you don’t care. Ugh, what are you saying? You sound stupid. Be nicer! Ew, no, not that nice — you’re simpering! Christ, did you actually hit ‘post’? But you were so awkward! OMG, can’t you…

A short spec-fic story — He stepped out onto the crystal deck. Unable — unwilling — to look through the refracted layers of light beneath his feet. It seemed so fantastical. A miracle of modern craftsmanship and engineering, they called it. He hated it. Layers of quartz and glass melded into one another to create…

This is a weird one… I regret nothing. I regret everything. — We’re all just muddling through. We don’t know, do we, how things are supposed to go, how we’re supposed to be, what we’re supposed to be? Do you think we’re supposed to know? It would be nice if someone did, I guess — if someone seemed to have a clue how to steer this whirling, swirling, careening force of nature that is…

Don’t ask me what’s going on in this poem, because I have zero clue 😅 — Content Warning: imagery of blood, prisons, etc. You buttoned up my shirt, fingers shaking, spirit quaking, cos you knew what our acquisitions had been in the interim. Tomorrow’s journeys are too late for yesterday’s regrets cos they’re burning this prison down from the ground up and you gotta decide just which side you’re on cos if you wanna take a plea you…

Short story. Anna Sinclair takes what’s hers. — Content Warning: one potential drug reference. (Yes, I said ‘potential’ — it’s a little ambiguous, even to me 😅) Screw them. Who were they, anyway, to make her feel guilty? The Addison brothers had never had to work a day in their lives. Their daddy was old money. They had…

‘I tell her that it’s me / But she doesn’t recognize’ — Alec Benjamin, If I Killed Someone For You — Warning: discussions of emotional abuse/toxic friendships, imagery of injury/wounding There were so many of us Back then Your little harem of friends Wish I’d gotten out before But you were the glue and I thought for them to like me I had to stick with you One day I looked…