It’s hot outside and sit on my porch, sucking a popsicle. It’s cherry flavor, their favorite flavor was always cherry. I sit and reminisce about the times we spent together. And I don’t feel sad, because those memories bring me happiness. I finish up my popsicle just as they call me inside, they’re still here with me. But I still think about our memories, so that I’ll nver forgot them when they’re gone. I sometimes wish we lived forever. Just look at world now, Normani is gone, Ally is gone, Dinah is gone, Lauren is gone, and I’m still standing. My name is Camila Cabello, and I want to take you on a journey through the development and creation of my most personal album yet, simply titled M(e)ila. Put your safety goggles on now, this is where the darkness comes to light...
I was on various drugs when I chose this username, and now I must suffer the consequence of it. This is not a publicity stunt, I’m actually worried for my mental health. Please if anyone is reading this, please help me. Please buy Charmbracelet on iTunes , you know the shtick. Send me receipt verification, and then I’ll get better. Please, please, please do this for your friendly neighborhood troll, I know you want to see more of me in this upcoming year. Please do this for me and help me, and help him.
It was unusually chilly this Halloween night. I had decided to attend one of my towns infamous Halloween party’s that night, and was enthralled. The party was excellent, lots of people had really great costumes and I had gone as a pirate. The party was on the outskirts of my small town a little whiles away in the wood. I had drunkily dozed off in One the tents, and when I had awoken everyone had already gone. I checked my phone and it was around 1am. I only had 3% battery so I had about enough to make one call, I decided to try my local taxi service, Brocka Taxis. My town was very small, and at the time didn’t have Uber or Lift. Luckily, they picked up and said I was lucky I had called as they were doing their last drives of the night. They said the wait would be around 30 minutes so I waited in silence. My phone died shortly after the call, I stood by the street I walked to in the cold. I watched my breath in the freezing air to pass the time. A little time after, I saw the headlights of a car begin to materialize in the distance. I waved my hands and they honked on notice. The slowly pulled up to me and I read the little motto I had come to know. “Brocka Taxis, We’ll never say never!”. I was glad at that time, cause if they could I’d be stranded here. I got in the taxi and was greeted to a rather good looking women in her late 20s. I said hi and introduced myself just to be cordial, she replied back “Hello, I’m Brandy, where are you headed?”. My stomach dropped and I almost gasped. “Excuse me what did you say?”, I questioned nervous. “I said Hi, I’m Brandy, where are you headed?”, she replied with a slight giggle at the end. I saw her shoot me deathly glare in the rear view mirror along with a taunting smile. Desperate, I told her my location, she smiled and what she said next to me stunned me. “Ah, I know where that is, we’ll have to take the freeway though, that sound good?”. She smiled with that again, I shuddered. We sat in silence for minutes, even though they felt like hours, as she awaited my response. I gathered all the courage I had in me and replied, “No, no thank you actually”. She chuckled slightly to herself, and unlocked the doors, I had no idea she had even locked them. I got out and immediately started walking back the other direction, I heard her start to drive along side me and I held my head down. “You have a safe night” she said as she drove on off. I looked up shortly after and the car was gone, not a skid mark or anything just vanished. It was a long dark walk home that night, my only company the Full moon.
My sweet sweet nana loves gays, but gays like me, you see. I’m normal, my nana loves me because I don’t act like a typical gay. One day my nana saw to gays kissing on tv, she turned the channel and whispered a silent prayer to God, “damn them to hell god, and abomination”. I giggled, it’s ok my sweet nana loves gays, gays like me. Another time I recall, my nana was walking to the store and saw to young teen boys holding hands, “Disgusting!” She screamed, the ran out of embarrassment. She told me when she got home, I lightly chucked to myself this time, my sweet nana loves gays, gays like me. One day I was in my room, dancing around to toxic, when my nana barged with laundry, “what the fuck are you doing! Come pray with me now!”, i was embarrassed, but I was acting weird. So we prayed, and she’s looked at me a little funny since. But i guess it’s ok, my nana loves gays, gays like me?
Ugh, I dread the day I turn 30. I know it’s so so far away, but it scares me. That’ll be the day my life ends, I’ll be a old fart rocking in chair by the fireplace reminiscing about how things used to be. Mariah Carey will be playing on the radio, no nevermind, it’ll be playing on whatever music technology my grandkids leave for me on table. They’ll barely visit their poor old grandpa. Every second will feel like years as I await my imminent death. Those below the age of 25 will laugh at me as I leave my house to get the mail. Spitting in my face, calling me a “old fag”. I’ll run, no limp, back into the house using my walker. I’ll cry, and wait until mother Mariah calls me back to the Lovely Place to live with her for all eternity. Where she lives there’s no beginning and there is no end, and it’ll feel like you’re dreaming, but you won’t be sleeping.
“Happy Black History Month” reads the status posted by fotpforums user @DespunkThoseFawkingBawls
“Ugh leave this forum you fucking annoying race baiting freak” replies user @Madonna despite the status just being posted 4 seconds ago.
It may be 3:32am where the madonna stanning user lives. But that didn’t stop him from logging and and checking Winnie’s post history for updates. Just like it didn’t stop him the other 2321 times.
“This will make him leave!” The Madonna Stan thinks, a demented smirk sprawled across his face. He sits inches away from the HP laptop screen, the 376x282 low definition display burning his corneas to a crisp. But he doesn’t care. He never cares.
All her cares about is the moment when Winnie wakes up, and sees that notification. How will he feel? Will he weep? Will he become enraged? Will he wallow in sorrow? Or will he ignore the notification, just like the other 674 stacked in his notification box from the same user.
The madonna user wonders if he’ll ever be acknowledged again. And for a brief moment he wonders if his efforts are in vain? Should he perhaps put this energy somewhere productive? But he doesn’t like thinking logically. It hurts his head.
He steps two feet over to his twin-sized mattress, nuzzled comfortably in the corner of his 6x6 room. His head lays roughly on the bare mattress, not a bed sheet or pillow in site. As he drifts off to sleep, the stinging sensation from screen watching for 13 hours still present. A smile sprawls across his face. “I bet he’ll be pressted” he thinks as he drifts off to sleep.
But I won’t be, and I never am.