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Hi. I'm Sarah. I reblog stuff that I am anywhere from mildly to obscenely obsessed with and pretend I'm cultured. It's a very taxing lifestyle.
Previously known as rainbowbags, thalassophiliac, and whimsicalosity.

Snapshots [2]

Previous snapshot and explanation for how these came to be can be found here.


Every day, it got harder and harder to breathe, knowing that every glance he received didn’t mean everything it should.


Logan gripped the container tightly, as if his life depended on it, his knuckles turning white.

Damn it, my life is so fucked up.

All he wanted to do was feel. That’s all he wanted to do: feel something other than this horrible nothingness that threatened to swallow him whole. Was that so hard?

But then again, why did he want to feel?

Reality hurt, so much. Trying to live every day, controlling all his fear and anger… Trying to control the pain that stabbed through his chest like a knife ravaging his insides… It was all so hard.

So why was it so important to not get sucked in by the emotionless haze that was promised by these innocent-looking white pills? Why couldn’t he just let it all fade away, let everything fade away until he was cold and numb?

No. Don’t think like that. Don’t let them win.

Don’t let who win again?

Sometimes, it was so easy to forget everything he had worked for.

… But then the thought of deep blue eyes, of lips twisting up in an encouraging smile, reminded him exactly why he hated taking this medication so much.

It also made him realize that if there anything he could do for that one person… It was to do this.

Logan popped the top off of the canister, tipping it over and staring at the pills that tumbled out. Too many. Briefly, he wondered what would happen if he shoved them all down his throat.

But no. That would be letting them win. His father. His demons.

So with a bitter chuckle, he let them all rain back down until there were two left in his palm. He tilted his head back, chucked them in, and swallowed them dry.

Almost immediately he could sense their effect on him. His senses were dulling. His omnipresent fury was diminishing. Everything was diminishing. Everything. Soon, there was nothing left, just an empty shell of a person who claimed it was named Logan, standing with arms limply at its sides.

Only one thing I can give you, Kurt… And it’s me like this, Logan thought with a dazed grin.

He shook his head and stumbled out of his room.

  1. weaselholes reblogged this from douchenuts
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