i feel like a prisoner in my own home

i miss u more on holidays.

how do I always get caught up in text sex?
maybe when a guy transitions for how themarsvolta's secret show into how badly I need to be spanked.

"Imagine i just played a show and you were there up front staring at me thinking about sucking my cock and all these girls and cheering for us. Then when were done i take you backstage and just bend you over and fuck you so hard. Wouldnt you love that?"

Wait. . .you now sound like a complete douche.

A lime tree for you

don't be so amazing or I'll miss you too much.

Alexander Duran

Stop l u r k i n g, creeper.


but if you continue to lurk, you should
1) buy a ticket to Coachella
2) catch a ride with me from Palos Altos to LA
3) pick up benzo and drive me to Coachella
4) delete devinare.blogspot from your rss reader thing


kthnx

this is my Yellow Bird

HOLY.FUCK.ME.

So today I was wandering through life feeling stressed, slightly off, and generally sad. I was dwelling on all the negatives about my upcoming Northern Adventure and Coachella (still not sure how I'm getting there.) Then my friend, Andrew, sends me a recording of Bright Eyes at Austin City Limits before Wide Awake/Digital Ash was released and I realize HOLY.FUCK.5.SHOWS.ONE.WEEK

Starting Thursday, I am leaving Los Angeles to follow Bright Eyes along the West Coast.
There is no other way I would want to spend my spring break.

Conor, Daniel, cute outfits, roadtrippin, dates.

Desires

Somedays I just want to have unapologetically wild sex. I want this for myself and for my pleasure.
But I don't want it with some guy in Santa Barbara who calls me "baby" and asks me to "suck on it"

I also refuse to be slut-shamed for these desires

Heavy Hearted

There are certain mornings, when it's too cold to jump out of bed and the sun's rays are sprinkled across my body, that I just lay in bed and think. Lately my days have been filled with as many people as possible. So those waking moments are the few minutes I gve myself to be completely alone--something I've feared since last December. I usually think of the past weekend. Of the people I spent it with. The boys with long hair who thought they could make me feel good but whose lips were too thin and grammar too incorrect. I begin to wonder what it would take to make me feel good again--really good not this good I've convinced myself to believe. Before I thought it was the idea of knowing others want me but I've realized that my scars may be deeper than I first judged. You've probably scarred me for future relationship, but I probably shouldn't keep using "you." You've probably been able to escape these feelings. I didn't do anything, so I should be able to too. It's not too often that these thoughts cross my mind, but for those few minutes my heart sinks so low that it feels as if I am anchored to my bed. The moment passes and I can pick myself up, slide into my velvet minidress and platforms, and convince myself it's going to be a good day. It usually is.