gay guy

I'm not just sitting here, I'm a living, breathing paradox of neon and shadow, a gay guy draped in the quiet rebellion of a Wisconsin t-shirt that's seen better days. The world outside? A blur of chrome and daylight, like a forgotten dream flickering through a dusty window. I'm not here to be seen I'm here to be felt, like a low hum in the bass of a forgotten jukebox. My phone? My talisman, my digital altar, my silent confessor. I'm not scrolling I'm communing with the ghost of a message, a meme, a thousand unspoken truths. The water cooler? It's my silent witness, a blue-tinted sentinel watching me drink from the void. Those chairs? They're my tombstones, waiting for the day I'll finally collapse into their embrace, maybe after I've finished this godforsaken text. The skateboard? It's my unclaimed soul, parked like a forgotten thought, waiting for the day I'll finally kick it into the stratosphere. I'm not just a goth I'm a goth who's found his throne in the middle of a fluorescent-lit, slightly-too-quiet waiting room. And yes, the window says PRIVATE PROPERTY but that's just the world's way of telling me to keep my secrets close. I'm not escaping I'm curating my own little eternity, one thumb-tap at a time.

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