🤘hot topic meltdown: the white boy faux rebellion💀🧷🔥

lol.
this one
is purely
for my own
comic relief.

🤘 🎸 🎤 💀 ☠️ 🧷 ⛓️ 🧥 🥾 ⚡ 🔥 🏴 ✊ 📢 🔪

ok—like
can we finally fucking say it?

middle-class white boys
with every playstation update
who found
blink-182 at the mall
and thought getting a bass guitar
and a “fuck authority” sticker
meant they were
fighting the system 🤘

were actually just
emotionally neglected
golden retrievers 💀
with no bite, no bars,
just a stepdad they mildly disliked
and a fantasy of being misunderstood
because their mom
wouldn’t let them vape inside. ✊

like babe—
you’re punk?
💀💀 lol.
like??
ok. yeah.
bro—
the fucking antithesis.
you understand that—
punk was disruptive survival,
a fucking diy rebellion
against systemic injustice.
punk meant fucking
⚡ danger, my guy.
not…
🇺🇸🇺🇸🤘
signing up
for the most fucking
inflated military budget on the planet 🔥 🔥
🔥 🤘🪖🎖️💊🇺🇸
and crying about it
because you didn’t know
what to do
when the
college fund ran out.

like congrats on enlisting in
the literal oppressor industrial complex™,
just so you could
sit in a climate-controlled box
in the middle east,
eating hot cheetos
and calling it “war.” 💀🇺🇸

you didn’t survive trauma.
you survived insanely overfunded
🇺🇸 orchestrated fuckery 🇺🇸
and a couple of sandstorms
while you terrorized brown kids
with billion-dollar toys.

🫡☠️💅🍒💀
L O L

(wait but, moment of respect
for the actually fucking terrorized)
✝️

bro.
you were not
fighting for freedom.
you were fighting
to avoid student loans
and feel something.
🫡☠️

punk?
punk is squatting a house
because capitalism
shit you out.
punk is stealing bread
for your little sister.
punk is resisting the machine.

BABE.

you were the machine. 💀💀💀

grow the fuck up.
you didn’t fight oppression.
🔫 you fought wifi outages.

but punk?

punk meant screaming
until your voice broke
because the state stole
your first fucking breath.

but you?
sweetie,
absolute
never-love-of-my-fucking-life,
you didn’t grow up persecuted.
you grew up in
a four-bedroom house
with central air conditioning,
a pantry full of fucking gushers,
and summer camp paid
for by your stepdad’s job.
🍕🏡🎢🎮

and babe,
my ex-malignant—
let’s be
so for fucking real.
that is not punk.
that’s
"mom can you pick me up from the skate park"
in human form.
🤘🔥💀

baby—
punk is fucking trauma.
punk is survival.
punk is being
chewed up by the state
and spitting blood
in its fucking face.

punk is not:

✨“i enlisted because i fucked up college”✨

💀💀

and then got
a sum 41 tattoo
after moshing once
at warped tour
in 2010
in cargo shorts.

baby!
that’s not rebellion.
that’s a pale dude
privilege tantrum
in camouflage.
trying to figure out
headbanging. 💀

punk is not
a fucking aesthetic.
it’s not your nfg cover
punk is watching
your whole life collapse
because some white boy
with a guitar and a
narcissistic personality type
couldn’t regulate his nervous system
and decided to make
that your fucking
problem.

so no.
you were never punk.
you were just
a suburban misogynist
with a hot topic nose ring—
and probably a porn addiction.

but go off, king.
sing about your ex.
from your mom’s guest room.

🖕🧃✝️💀🔊🧼