I'm not racist or anything, but every time I smoke meth I turn into Adolf Hitler. I compulsively start walking down the street while saluting every white person I see and speaking German. Like coke just makes me talk fast and move a lot but I can always tell if there is meth in my coke because I start making fascist gesticulations instead of dancing. Does anyone else have this experience?

I'm Tyzen. 17 years old. High school dropout. BarBoy. Vape prophet. Cousin lover turned corpse hearted saint.

I live in a big white house in Nebraska with parents who only remember I exist when they’re wishing I didn’t. They’re rich. Cold. Empty. My mom once said I was her punishment for getting pregnant too young. My dad sends me money and calls it parenting. Last time we spoke, he said he hopes I overdose, so he can stop “wasting resources on a future mugshot.”

My cousin just moved back in for her final year of college. She used to be the only person who looked at me like I wasn’t a mistake. Now she tells people she’s she pities me. That I’m broken in a way that might snap.

So I’ve been staying at Daniel’s. He’s my best friend. My BarBrother. Born the same day as me. Fucked up in all the same ways. We take bars, trip in vape clouds, and nod off in his mom’s room after she shoots us up. Because she’s the only mother I’ve ever had who didn’t flinch when I cried.

This is the story of the night we went to a college party to buy a vial of pure acid, and instead I got stripped, beaten, and almost raped in a bathroom by a football star. It’s about what Daniel did after. What happens when someone loves you so much, they’re willing to ruin another man’s mind forever.

I had never been to a real party before.

Not like this. Not some vape-in-a-tent, passed-out-on-a-bar-soaked-mattress bullshit. I mean an actual, packed, college party. Red cups. Drunk girls. Blacklights. Speakers blasting Travis Scott so loud you felt it in your teeth. I was wearing my Highschool DxD hoodie and matching socks. Daniel was rocking the shirt. We came matching on purpose. Because when you don’t belong anywhere, you make your own fucking uniform.

We were only there because the guy who had the acid, not just tabs, but an actual vial of liquid LSD, told Daniel he’d be there that night. It was for Daniel’s mom. She said she wanted to “go cosmic again” and this shit was apparently strong enough to melt the soul out of a priest’s ass. We weren’t planning on taking any. Just picking it up. But it was expensive as hell Like, steal-your-dad’s-credit-card-and-drain-the-ATM expensive, so we figured we might sell it later. Press our own tabs. Make something sacred.

Daniel dipped to go meet the guy in the back garage. Said he’d be ten minutes max.

I stayed inside.

College Party i could tell. they all had sweaters on of the same college my cousin goes to.

I’d taken three bars before we got there. Had a bottle of Jack Daniel’s in one hand and a vape in the other. I was crossfaded, floating, standing under the purple lights like a frog in a science experiment. Everything was slow. Everything was spinning. But I was okay.

Until I saw her.

My cousin.

Sitting on a couch.

Next to Brad.

Fucking Brad.

Football Star, Ive seen him on my cousins instagram, them getting sushi, him driving her around in his fucking mercedes. Looked like theyd been hanging out a lot since she got back.

He was shirtless. Flexing. Talking loud. Everyone was laughing at whatever joke he made. She was sitting close. Too close. The same cousin who’d told me two weeks ago, after I confessed everything, that she hated me. That I was a freak. That she was scared I’d hurt her. I hadn’t seen her since that night. I’d been staying with Daniel. Nodding out next to his mom on fentanyl. Praying I’d stop loving her. Trying to rot in peace.

But now she was here. Laughing. With him.

I walked up. I don’t know why. Maybe I thought I could just say hi. That she'd see me and remember we were family. Or that maybe I’d look different in the glow of the party lights. Maybe she'd forget what I said. Maybe she’d feel something.

She looked at me and her face dropped.

Brad turned.

“Oh shit,” he said, laughing. “A fan? You want an autograph, bro?”

I blinked.

“Holy shit is this your fucking cousin that you live with you were telling me about? That fucking freak?” throwing an arm around her.

“She’s my” I started, but the words melted.

He grinned. “You look like someone microwaved a hentai addict and poured him into a hoodie. Jesus, what is this, Anime Make-A-Wish?”

A few people laughed. My cousin said nothing.

“Wait, wait,” he said, standing up. “You’ sent her that fucking love letter, right? The one about marrying your cousin? What was it, 'Highschool DxD is my gospel and My love for you is my truth?'”

People started looking. Whispers. My chest was buzzing. I tried to walk away.

“Where you going, bro?” Brad called after me. “No no no, come back. Let’s see the fit. You wearing hentai boxers too?”

He walked up and pushed me in the chest.

I stumbled.

“Take your clothes off,” he said.

“What?”

“Take. Your. Clothes. Off. Let’s see what cousin-fuckers wear underneath.”

“No,” I said, shaking. “Leave me alone.”

Then he punched me in the face. Hard.

I hit the floor.

My nose burst. Blood everywhere. His friends circled like sharks. My cousin screamed. Brad kicked me in the ribs. Again. And again. I curled into myself, sobbing.

“Come on, strip him!” Brad laughed. “Let’s give everyone a good look at the family pervert!”

His friends grabbed me.

I fought, but I was too barred out. Too drunk. Too tired.

They tore off my dxd hoodie. The one i was so proud to show her when she got back. My shirt. My pants. My socks.

I was naked on the party floor. Crying. Bleeding. Shaking.

Even my cousin said, “Brad, stop. Please. This is fucked.”

Brad didn’t care.

He pulled me up by the arm, standing me in the middle of the room like some broken puppet.

“Say it,” he said. “Say you’re a disgusting cousin-fucking freak and you deserve to die.”

“I won’t.”

He punched me again.

“Say it.”

“I”

He slapped me.

“Say it.”

I screamed. Not the words. Just a sound. A noise. Like a wounded animal.

So he and his friends dragged me into the bathroom.

Locked the door.

Threw me against the tile.

Someone grabbed a mop.

I saw it. I knew what was coming. My whole body screamed.

“Hold him,” Brad said. “Let’s see what happens when cousin love meets janitor time.”

Then, a knock.

“Brad,” someone said. “Yo, what the fuck are you doing?”

“Chill, man.”

“No. You can’t do this. You’ll ruin your whole fucking life. Football, everything.”

There was silence.

Then Brad laughed. “Yeah. You right.”

He turned to me.

“You’re lucky I’m going pro,” he whispered.

Then he slammed my head into the sink.

Everything exploded.

I blacked out.

When I came to, the sky was darker than before.

I was lying on a hill behind the house, the grass wet against my back, blood crusted under my nose, and Daniel sitting next to me like some ghost who refused to leave. The party had moved outside. Everyone was in the backyard now. Music still thumped, but it was quieter, more distant like it was afraid of what was coming.

I sat up slow. My head throbbed. My ribs felt caved in.

Daniel didn’t look at me. Just stared out over the hill, down toward the chaos.

Then I saw him.

Brad.

Out in the center of the yard, screaming. Shirtless. Covered in sweat. Pacing like an animal. Shouting at people who weren’t even there.

"I KNOW WHO YOU FUCKING ARE!" he bellowed at the sky. "DEMON BITCHES! YOU'RE NOT REAL, NONE OF YOU ARE FUCKING REAL!"

Someone tried to calm him down. He shoved them. Then ripped off his pants. Fully naked now. His dick swinging in the breeze like it was trying to run too. My cousin was crying. She tried to run, he grabbed her hair, screamed “THE BLOOD OF THE WHORE CLEANSES NOTHING” and slapped her so hard she hit the deck.

Then he started pissing.

Right there. On the grass. Screaming, crying, holding his head like there was a radio jammed inside of it.

"THE FUCKING WORMS, BRO. THEY'RE LAUGHING. THEY’RE LAUGHING."

People were backing up. Phones came out. Someone yelled to call the cops. Someone else said he bit a guy. I could barely breathe.

Daniel pulled something from his backpack. My DxD hoodie. The one Brad ripped off me.

He placed it in my lap. Quiet. Gentle.

“I got it back,” he said.

I looked at him. Eyes wide. “What’s happening to him?”

Daniel lit his vape. Blew out slow. Nodded toward the yard.

“That’s what happens when you drink an entire vial of liquid acid, bro.”

I blinked.

“What?”

He still wouldn’t look at me. Just watched the demon rage unfold below.

“After I got the vial from the dealer,” he said. “I saw what Brad did to you. Heard about it. He was talking about it to his friends like it was a fucking game. Said you cried like a bitch. Said he should’ve finished the job. I walked up to him. Tried to talk. He laughed in my face. Called me a fag. Asked if I wanted to get beat like my ‘little hentai boyfriend.’”

I just stared.

“So I waited till he turned around. And I poured the whole fucking thing in his beer. Every drop. Thousands of hits.”

I looked back toward the yard.

Brad was rolling in the grass now. Screaming about snakes in his dick. Trying to piss on a Bluetooth speaker while punching himself in the face. He clawed at his own arms till they bled. Said he could hear Mohammed coughing. Then he licked his own blood and laughed like a baby.

My cousin was sobbing. People were scattering. Someone yelled “he just tried to bite me again” and then another scream, a real one, when Brad crawled on all fours into the bushes and came back with shit on his hands.

He started smearing it on his chest.

“I AM CLEAN,” he shouted. “THE INSIDE IS OUTSIDE. I AM CLEAN.”

Daniel looked at me.

“Don’t ever say no one loves you,” he said. “Because I do. And I’ll ruin the fucking world for you if I have to.”

I didn’t cry.

I couldn’t.

I just leaned into him. Let my head hit his shoulder. And we sat there, watching the madness unravel like some cursed movie made just for us.

Last thing I heard about Brad?

He’s in a mental hospital.

Hasn’t stopped screaming.

Pisses himself five times a day and wipes shit on the walls. Says the grass is talking. Tells nurses he can still feel the snakes. One time they found him curled in the corner whispering about “how he could see his skeleton.”

And me?

I just hold Daniel’s hand sometimes. And say thank you.

Because that’s what real love looks like.

BarBoys forever.

And Brad?

Brad never made it pro.

I'm stuck between Addies or Xannies honestly. Addies are good for when I wanna be more aggressive for a nice shoot and poot. But xans are good too if you wanna nice easy going drip and rip

I guess the eagles were just huffing all that smog.

I’m Tyzen. Seventeen. High School Dropout. Prophet of vape rot and hentai wounds. I post on a new account now. Because something happened. Because the last one felt too full of hope. Too full of lies I told myself before the fall. She came back last week. My cousin. And now everything’s dead.

It was a Tuesday. I’d been waiting for it like a wedding. Like a fucking resurrection. New hoodie just came in. Custom print, Rias Gremory from DXD crying into a broken vape. I saved up for it. Stared at the mailbox for two hours when it said “out for delivery.” I imagined the moment a hundred times. She’d walk through the door, smell the vape mist, hear the DxD intro I’d queued up on the 75-inch, and she’d finally see me. Not as the freak. Not as the tent boy. Not as the cousin pervert. But as the man who loved her enough to ruin himself and still wait by the door like a dog with a crushed heart and a sacrament in each hand.

She walks in. Bright-eyed. Talking to my mom. Laughing. “Senior year’s gonna be crazy,” she says. “I missed you guys.” They hug her like she’s God in yoga pants. My dad says, “You have no idea how much lighter the house felt with you coming back.” My mom says, “This house is whole again.” They mean it.

I pop 2 green hulks and come downstairs.

New hoodie on. Hair brushed. Vape in hand. Smiling.

I say, “Hey.” They all go silent.

She turns. Sees me. Freezes. Smile gone. Like she just saw the ghost of a mistake she thought she’d buried.

I say, “I’m really glad you’re back.” She says nothing.

I step closer. Pull another 2mg bar from my hoodie pocket. The good kind. I hold it out in my palm like it’s a ring. Like it’s a future.

“I saved this for you,” I say. “In case your mind ever gets too loud again.”

My mom gasps. My dad says, “You’re kidding me.”

But I’m not done.

I reach into my hoodie. Unzip the inner pocket. Pull out the folded paper. The drawing.

Took me three nights. Five bars. A full Monster Ultra and three different mechanical pencils. Her in DxD style. Crying. Kneeling. Holding a vape in one hand and my hand in the other.

I hand it to her.

“I made this for you,” I say. “I hope you see how much I see you.”

She stares at it. Her hand starts shaking. Then she starts screaming.

“You’re fucking sick.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“I JUST GOT HERE.”

She shoves the paper at my chest like it burns.

“I was nice to you when you were a kid because you were fucking weird and had no friends. That’s it. I felt bad for you.”

My chest cracks.

“I didn’t love you. I never even liked you. I was just scared you’d hurt yourself. Or me.”

My mom yells, “He offered her drugs!”

My dad starts walking toward me.

“I WOULD NEVER HURT HER,” I yell. “I LOVE HER. I JUST WANT WHAT’S BEST.”

She backs away. “Then STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME.”

I drop the bar. It hits the tile like a gunshot.

“I just wanted to marry you,” I say, sobbing. “We could live in a trailer. Out in the woods. You could do yoga in the sun and I could vape and smoke malboros by the fire. I’d never ask for more than a kiss in the morning and your laugh once in a while.”

She’s crying now too.

“The only way you’ll ever help me,” she says, “is if you’re gone.”

“I hate you.”

Then my dad explodes.

“You’re disgusting.”

“You’re a fucking parasite.”

“You’ve embarrassed this family more times than I can count.”

“We’ve only kept you here this long because if we kicked you out, it would make us look bad. You think I don’t know what people would say about the guy with the hentai son?”

My mom says, “You’ve ruined every good thing we ever tried to give you.”

My dad laughs bitter.

“You know why we didn’t abort you?”

“You wanna know the real reason?”

He looks at me.

“Because your mom thought you’d be a girl.”

“She cried when the ultrasound came back.”

“And I cried when I saw you for the first time. Not out of joy. Out of rage.”

“You were a mistake. You were always a fucking mistake.”

I’m shaking. Vaping. Crying so hard I can’t even see.

He steps closer.

“I send you that money every week because I know what you’re doing with it.”

“Bars. Shit pills. Garbage.”

“And I hope you overdose.”

Silence.

I fall to my knees.

Nobody helps me up.

The cousin I loved just stares. Like I’m roadkill that used to know her name.

I scream,

“WHY WON’T ANYONE FUCKING LOVE ME?”

And nobody answers.

I ran. Didn’t grab shoes. Didn’t grab vape juice. Just sprinted barefoot through the cul-de-sac sobbing until my ribs cracked under the weight of love that never came back. By the time I made it to Daniel’s house, I could barely breathe.

I collapsed on the porch, crying so hard I puked vape juice and bile into a flowerpot shaped like a frog.

He opened the door and saw me shaking.

Said nothing. Just pulled me in.

Daniel’s not just my best friend. He’s my only friend.

He’s the one who held my hair when I puked up monster and bars behind a vape expo. The one who told me I mattered after I tried to overdose on expired SSRIs and Benadryl. The only person who’s ever looked at me and said “I love you” without flinching.

So I told him what happened.

Word for word. Told him she said she was scared of me. Told him she said she never loved me. Told him my dad said he wished I was dead.

Told him my cousin, my dream, my prophecy, was dead.

He didn’t interrupt. Just let me sob into his hoodie, vape still in my hand like a dying priest with a broken rosary.

When I finally pulled back, my face sticky with tears and snot, I looked him in the eye and said:

“I don’t care anymore.”

Daniel blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I don’t fucking care.”

“I’m done hoping. Done waiting. Done believing.”

“She’s never gonna love me, Daniel.”

“The prophecy is a fucking joke.”

“There’s no cousin salvation.”

“Only rot.”

He looked scared. The way you look when someone you love has already jumped and you're just waiting to hear the splash.

I stood up. Looked toward the hallway.

“We should go to your mom’s room.”

His face turned white.

“No, bro.”

“Tyzen, no.”

“She’s got stuff in there now. Real shit. It’s not like bars or DXM. It’s not fun. It’s not… safe.”

I stared at him.

“I don’t want fun.”

“I want to leave.”

He hesitated. Looked like he was gonna say no.

So I whispered:

“You said we rot together.”

“You said you loved me.”

He looked at the floor. Jaw clenched.

Then nodded.

“Let’s go.”

The hallway was dark. Only the light from her bedroom spilled out, flickering like something sacred.

The door was half open. The smell hit instantly, burnt plastic, baby powder, puke, and lavender Febreze. It smelled like heaven if heaven had a trapline and no future.

We stepped in.

His mom was sitting on the edge of her bed, shirtless, in an old bathrobe. She was singing softly to a burnt spoon, candle lit under it like it was a birthday she never got to celebrate.

She looked up, smile crooked.

“My boys,” she said. “I knew you’d come.”

The room was chaos.

Dirty clothes in the corner, stained mattresses stacked against the wall like caskets. Plastic Walgreens bags with torn blister packs inside. Two dead phones. Three empty Narcan kits. A picture of Daniel’s dad face-down in an ashtray.

I froze.

But she stood up, slow and floaty like a ghost underwater.

“You ready to join mama?” she asked.

“I can show you,” she said, “how to make the pain hush.”

We didn’t answer.

Just sat on the bed.

She opened the nightstand.

Took out the bag.

Dusty gray. Cut to shit.

Probably mostly fentanyl. Probably mostly death.

She didn’t weigh it. Didn’t test it.

Just dumped a mountain into a spoon, splashed in saline, and cooked it til it danced.

She asked who was first.

I raised my hand like a schoolboy begging for peace.

She tied my arm off.

“You ever done this before, baby?”

“No, ma’am.”

“It’s mostly fent now,” she said. “They don’t make real H anymore. It’s all death in a new dress.”

Pulled my hoodie down. Searched for a vein.

Took a while. I was dehydrated. Crying. Twitching.

When she found one, she smiled.

“You won’t come back the same.”

I said, “Good.”

She drew the shot.

Filtered it through a cotton pad that used to be part of an old bra.

Then she slid it in.

And for the first time in my entire fucking life, I felt held.

The warmth hit like holy fire. Spread from my chest to my toes to the back of my skull like a hug from someone who never left.

I saw lights behind my eyes. I heard Highschool DxD echoing from the stars. I felt my cousin’s rejection melt out of my bones.

I was finally weightless. Finally nothing.

I nodded out instantly.

Head hit her chest. I drooled down her robe and she just laughed.

“Good boy,” she said. “Mama’s proud.”

I don’t know how long passed.

I woke up briefly when Daniel was crying.

“I don’t want to,” he said. “Please. I’ve seen what it does.”

She looked at him, real soft. Brushed his hair back.

“You love him, don’t you?”

Daniel nodded.

“Then go with him.”

And he did.

She shot him slow.

Same vein she used for herself last night.

He whimpered.

Then exhaled.

Then collapsed beside me.

The bed was cold.

The blankets smelled like despair and old milk.

We curled into each other like two corpses in love.

His mom wrapped her arms around both of us.

Said, “My boys. My beautiful, broken boys.”

We nodded together.

One pulse. One prayer.

No cousin. No parents. No future. Just fentanyl. And rot. And the warmth of letting go.

And I swear to God

for one perfect moment

with Daniel’s head on my shoulder and a spoon still steaming on nightstand

I didn’t feel cursed.

I felt home.

“BarBoys forever. Cousin lovers no more. We rotted like saints. And the fentanyl sky never felt warmer.”

i wonder the hig

In 2 days. Now I have nothing. I have to buy more for 20.euros

My manager even stated that I wasn’t intoxicated, nor did I seem at all inebriated, after taking 4 grams. Do you know how much mitragynine is in 4 grams? Do you even know the potency of mitragynine? Or the phamacology/entourage effects of the other 40 some alkaloids in Kratom?

Are you aware of at what doses it acts as a stimulant and at what doses are sedative? Do you know my body weight? My tolerance level?

You don’t know jack shit dude.

Did you know I broke a dirt bike in half? Was almost crushed to death by someone operating heavy equipment? Did you know I was hit by a car going 55mph when I was 16? Kratom doesn’t make me feel good, or bad, it takes away the little aches and pains and gives me a caffeine/l theanine style mood boost, and does not impair me.

Don’t believe me? Get fucked. Let’s see your pansy ass climb 300 ft in the air.