No more kid stuff. I wish you could have the childhood I had, but that’s not going to happen. People are going to die. I’m gonna die. Mom. There’s no way you can ever be ready for it. I try to be, but I can’t. Best we can do now is avoid it as long as we can, keep one step ahead. I wish I had something better to say, something—something more profound. My father was good like that. But I’m tired son.
do you ever write a message but halfway through you think “you know what fuck it they dont even care” and delete it
yo but this says so much about rape when a woman would literally rather be around a murderer than a rapist