JUST FINISHED READING OMG

JUST FINISHED READING OMG

even better than i imagined it would be, your writing style is beautiful and i love how you get such strong feelings conveyed with so little dialogue <333

your writing is so inspiring (as always)

(ps. hope whatever weight you’re carrying in your mind right now can be relived, very proud that you’ve stuck around, that’s hard to do :))

- 🎀

THANK YOU!!! i’m so glad you liked it oh my god. i had answered your other ask before i finished writing and i had your kind words on my mind <3333

i want to give you the biggest hug bow anon, i hate that i can’t

(and thank u, im sorry if i’ve dropped random sad things on u guys, your support means everything)

the week after we died.

a poem about life after the death of andre kriegman and calvin gabriel, written by me.

we lie on the cold floor,

brains and bone shattered and splayed on tile.

the body bags are too big.

they aren’t made to hold someone so small.

the strength and weight of our guns had left us.

with tortured minds,

our families tear through our belongings,

yearning for a letter, an explanation

of where they went wrong,

but they will find nothing.

they will go outside and spot the fire pit,

find the charcoals still smoldering.

burnt plastic and flakes of paper

that can only be explained by a tape,

by a video made in solitude.

the church refuses to hold our funerals.

we are buried with no celebration,

caskets closed for the sanity of others.

there is a family gathering for those who care:

our siblings, our parents, rachel, and mel.

our hell is our minds,

focused on one singular thought.

we go in circles,

finding ourselves in the exact place we tried to escape,

hurtling towards the point of extinction.

people are told not to live in the past

as if their loved ones do not reside there.

they are told that life will be better without us,

that life will be happier and more fulfilling,

but how can anything fill the void in which we used to reside?

we lie on the cold floor,

now only in memory and in mind,

as people avoid the space where we lay.

the way they swerve around the spot is almost natural,

as if we were designed for their hatred.

the week after we died,

graduation was halted.

the week after we died,

the police came knocking.

the world fell apart in the week after we died.

i’m so tired of people misinterpreting this post so let me clear it up. you can love dylann roof. you could want his kids. you could want to be best friends with him. i don’t care!! i’ll interact with you, you can interact with me

i just ask that people who genuinely agree with his prejudice and racism not interact with me.

those are two completely different things.

ok this is a serious post. i’ve seen dylann roof on my timeline a lot recently, so i need to say this.

if you support dylann roof, fucking unfollow me now. i don’t want to be involved in anything that involves that man or any prejudice like the kind he held in his heart. people who praise him and/or share his ideas are not welcome here.

my username on ao3 has been officially changed to operationandre instead of holdingontoangels!!! yippeee!!!

do NOT develop a parasocial relationship with that internet person they WILL disappoint u. not me though. u can all be parasocial with me, i will never hurt u like that

A house party at Rachel's house leads Andre to face his own loneliness. Cal desperately wants to help him but can't come up with the right words.