the tulips

about me

CONTENT WARNINGS FOR EXISTENCE: content warnings, incest ghosts, poorly cooked food, women 2, unreality, reality, hyperreality, hyporeality, gay sex, say gex, Homestuck, Car Seat Headrest (car), the disrepair of the SEPTA, Kindle Fire 2013, Target Eevee plush toy

The sex is good, of course, but it doesn't mean anything to me anymore. Seriously, it's like I got put in the percolator with a rubber chicken. But I never know what I'm actually sticking my dick in. It doesn't seem to make sense, really, it feels like every single nerve is getting stimulated at once, like I'm getting burnt to a fucking crisp or something. I keep opening up the stall door and there's just nothing there, like I was just fuckin' a glory hole without anyone sucking. I never hear the person leave, either, and the door's shut. You'd think that the creak would stop someone from doing that.

I still hear voices. They don't really tell me what to do anymore. Mostly they tell me what not to do, like I'm some kind of idiotic fucking puppet being marionetted on four strings while the entirety of the world just collapses around me. I'm not an idiot, you know. I hope you believe that. I'm very privy to the world around us, the injustices everywhere. I'm quite chivalrous. They keep telling me to do something about it though. It's hard to get out of bed though, because they keep screaming at me. I'm not a very pressure motivated person. That changed though. It all changed.

They told me who did it today. It all fell into place, the pieces crashing down to Earth like meteors killing dinosaurs. It's all connected, you know. The bathroom fucking. The voices. The nonsense in the world. It's just entropy, man. But the entropy has a name.

name: tulip
pronouns: materially she/her
age: 21

testimonials

contact

discord: juneeg8ert
email: drugs at tulips dot gay

if you DM me and I don't vaguely know of you, I will block you, regardless of what explanation you give.