This Era Has An Iron Grip On Me

David looks bonita

I already posted this on X

Gay LA Metal 💄

. ݁₊ 🦢 . ݁˖

Let me introduce you my small shrine of David, which is composed of him and only him…

I love him sm, I can’t wait to get more magazines and posters ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜ . He’s my favorite musician ever, I really hope to see him again and I’m praying to meet him ughhh…

I have this urge to delete all my fics and start over, I hate my works so much bro

Hiii, I felt like really pouring out my feelings on a fic (since it's also been a while). I used David to portray my thoughts and feelings since I have a hugeeee attachment for David and blah blah blah,,, well, the point is that I self-reflected on him and if anyone is interested in seeing him suffer, this is your fic. Btw, big fat content warining for suicide attempt and mentions of other issues.

Rating: Explicit !major character death!

Relationship: --

Summary:

“You’ve been off lately, man,” he said, his voice softer than usual. “Is everything alright?” David forced a smile, one he had perfected over the years. “Yeah,” he lied. “Just tired, you know?”

//

1985

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64030417

I stand here, wrecked by my own hands, caught between the person I was and the one I’m forced to be. God’s gaze is cold, distant. I wasn’t made for this, this body, this life. None of it feels real. It’s a cage I didn’t ask for, a skin that never belonged to me. I look at myself, but I don’t recognize the person staring back. My face, my eyes, hollow and empty. I wonder if God makes mistakes or if I’m just part of some cruel design. A soul condemned before it had a chance.

Everything feels wrong, and yet, nothing feels real enough to care. My body is a prison, a place I don’t belong. I scream inside for someone to hear, but there’s only silence, like I’m trapped in a place that won’t let me go.

I pray, but I don’t believe. I’m not worthy of mercy. I never asked for this life, and yet here I am, broken, rotting under the weight of something I never chose. And still, I keep going, dragging myself through the motions, because what else can I do?

But the truth is, I don’t think I was meant to be. This flesh, this life, it was never mine to control, never mine to fix. I was never meant to be whole, and maybe I never will be.

This will actually stay unfinished

Im up to sum content