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Theoretical Love Is Not Dead

by Personality Disorders

supported by
Jared Luce
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Jared Luce Pretty bedroom emo for the sullen attacker. Favorite track: certain private conversations.
Bunnny
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Bunnny The artist's description cannot sum it up any better. This album is that tiny sting of realization, the throbbing heartache, and the listless joy of company and the impact different individuals leave. The melodies do their part to lure you in and the experimental edits let you know that this is indeed a reality. On a personal note I felt with this album and it's sense of sweet raw honesty. Favorite track: waking up to the sound of you leaving.
Angela-Grace
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Angela-Grace Jorge is a fucking angel and his sadness makes me less sad <3
Francesca Tirpak
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Francesca Tirpak i love this so much, it is so personal and raw
Sam Shepherd
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Sam Shepherd i've been waiting for this release for a while and it has exceeded my expectations. dreamy, noisy and incredibly well thought out, do not miss this album. Favorite track: saliva.
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  • Limited Edition CD
    Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    Hand painted CDs put into glued together makeshift CD cases that are housed in a beautiful hand stitched burlap sack. Includes a mini lyric sheet and a personal thank you card as well as a lollipop and pack of smarties. Out of 15.
    Also includes a bonus track only otherwise available through Gettin Handsy Records.

    Album artwork by Nina Keoborakot.
    Thank you Lynn and Gabby for helping put them together.

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  • Spray Painted Cassette Tape
    Cassette + Digital Album

    Theoretical Love Is Not Dead in three different variants, all spray painted to match their album art color.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Theoretical Love Is Not Dead via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

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1.
So much of our lives are concentrated on the kindness of others, and I guess happiness is found when that kindness is reciprocated. But I can't hold onto happiness for more than days or hours or minutes at a time and I can't leave my room because I'm obsessed with the idea of falling asleep to the sound of you breathing. I've been sleeping in this bed for too long. I've called it ours when I should be taking back what's mine. You're not mine. And I've found all the love in my heart will never reciprocate unless I improve upon the person I am. But I am stuck, I am fractured, I am a piece of shit, I am a nervouswreck for your affection and I am all yours. I remember almost seeing you break down in tears and I wish I could've laughed in your face, your fucking disgusting face that deserves my fist. So for the last time, we were 15 and we were in your parents' house. You were tired of my songs and I was tired of your lip so I shut you up. On a couch made for two where we sank into each other's anatomies like mixed paint. A portrait of youthful complexion I can't revisit, but why would I want to? I said nothing ever changes, but I lied. So I'll keep telling myself there's no trace of you, that I don't smell you in my sheets. So I won't rub your shoulders with my hands. You're not in my heart, you are my heart. I'll move on.
2.
i'll move on 05:01
Maybe my legs would't shake when I heard your name if I felt better about how it worked out. Your daddy was a business man who didn't like what I did to your neck and I know now your mother she will never love me. I've moved on. I feel better about myself. So why do I still think about you? How do I know if he touched you? I'd ask you when we're older but this is something we can't talk about. I'm not trying to take myself so seriously. I just want to hold your hand. I just want to be 14 again but this time safe. Let's talk about the way our lives worked out over coffee. I can't help but miss you sometimes. And I think you're right when you say I should be burned alive. I've moved on. I feel better about myself. So why do I still think about you? How do I know if he touched you? I'd ask you when we're older but this is something we can't talk about. Because if I am a rapist then you are a pedophile and we will both get what we deserve. Because if you are a rapist then I am a pedophile and I will solely get what I deserve. Because if I am a rapist then you are a pedophile and God is a whore and we don't deserve to live anymore. I don't want to live anymore. /// "dick dents" Dimples, your dimples. I remember boys saying you had dick dents in your face. Now I have them too. I wish I had a pussy like yours, one I could smash my head into until my face started bleeding. Your parents could watch.
3.
t-shirt 03:56
Like me, a sword swallowed whole. Hold back your finger, you know you're better than that. I know about the knife under your pillow. Forget I laid on your bedsheets. I never touched you where you could be seen. I want be to your t-shirt. Hide the dark parts under your skin that no one should know but me. Move your head back and forth, I'm griping, foaming, ripe with everything I should have said. Your attacker lived for your lingerie, picture memories, tearing off your clothing when you should have been in bed sleeping. I want be to your t-shirt. Hide the dark parts under your skin that no one should know but me. Discussing galleries, we had no filter or delay to hide ourselves from what we had to say. Nothing more than children, we made videos inside of my head. I hid myself from it for far too long. I want be to your t-shirt. Hide the dark parts under your skin that no one should know but me. And I can only hide in your clothing for so long. Tear off your t-shirt and show me your scars. I fucking hate you. No, I fucking hate you. Kiss me again when there's shade or when it's too bright out or when we both turn 21.
4.
stretch mark 02:16
Turns out your stretch marks, they were more like the state lines. Now the burden is all mine. I won't live for you but I'll call you mine. So if you want me, say you'll say when. And if you love me, then I love you back. Your stretch marks are the most beautiful state lines of your anatomy. So I'll kiss your belly and we can drink coffee and then both get anxious over nothing.
5.
Certain private conversation mean nothing to you now because you're too busy with college or drawing about how I'm your attacker. You said I was begging for attention and well honey, you were half right. Because I was begging for yours. Certain private conversations mean nothing to me now because I'm too busy with college or thinking about how I'm your attacker. You said I was begging for attention and well honey, you were half right. Because I was begging for yours. Now I'm down on my knees begging please don't do this to us. Don't do this to me. Because honey, I will grow thick skin to take all of your abuse. And honey, I will cut my hair short and shave my face clean. And honey, I will keep my clothes on around people who remind me of you if you come back to me with open arms, open legs and open chest. /// "boyscout" I want to write like you. I want to be your big strong boy but know all I'll ever be is your scared little girl searching for safer skin. If I was to ever think I am beautiful, then you'd be the first to know. But you probably already know, you're reassurance to love. You're eyes I no longer want to gouge out. Your glasses are beautiful, leave them on. Who taught you how to crossdress? Baby, I think you're beautiful. If anyone was to break me, it'd be you. I hope you break me, you're beautiful. Teach me to be beautiful. I want your skin. I want your skin to rot off your flesh and I want to wear you like a boyscout badge. You'd make a beautiful dress. The color of your skin upsets me but on a dress it'd make more sense. You're ugly but not in a conventional sense. I hear that you cry now, and I almost always empathize appropriately. Fuck me. Like a big strong boy or your scared little girl. You've never known me better. Let me vomit in your ears and you'll know everything about me. I want you to know everything about me. What makes me tick, what makes me upset, what movies I'm watching, what I'm wearing, who I'm with. I want to talk about obsession over coffee. I want to talk about the way my life turned out. My mother can't look at me straight, but I'm okay. It's been over a year since I've seen your face, you'd look horrible after a car accident. I hope college treats you well. Do you still think about me? I'm not your attacker, or at least I never meant to be. I wanted to be your baby girl. Where did we fuck up? I wrote "Company" with no clear purpose. Did we fuck up? Where did I fuck up?
6.
I lost the weight I gained in losing you, so I won't live for you. And I'll dig my hands into my pockets so they don't freeze. And I'll close my eyes for slumber despite that I won't sleep. And if you think that's selfish, then I guess I am. Because I won't live for you and then act like I can. I won't wait inside your room. I won't hide in the closet behind all your clothes. I won't watch you sleep at night. I won't follow you home and act like you care. And if you think that's selfish, then I guess I am. Because I won't live for you and then act like I can. And I will cut myself on the stone I carved our names in. And I will bury myself in the snowfall in your backyard. And we can build snowmen and talk about your favorite animals. And we can kill ourselves and I'll feel less guilty on nights that I feel lonely because I wish that I'd never wake up. A life built on distance so I never know better. And if you think that's selfish, then I guess I am. Because I won't live for you and then act like I can. I won't live for you and then act like I can. I won't live for you because I know you don't care.
7.
you are a virgin flower I cannot grasp you are the one I seek to sleep if you leave please first choke me without you no point breathing
8.
saliva 02:23
The first time you said that you loved me was when we were just kids. I know you've changed a lot since then, but I still hear it in your voice. I hear it in my head. I know no one else ever meant it the way you did. -excerpt from "Spending the hours between three and four pacing back and forth across my apartment" by Naturally the foundation will bear your expenses /// Drinking saliva, you leave it in my throat. I strained myself, but you did not notice or hear a sound. You speak of another but I live in your mouth. Locking the door, back when I could not say no. I extorted your body, and hurt you too. I wish I was dead but I love telling lies. I wish I was dead because you're alive. Your saliva still stains my cock and I will always feel alone. It's not fair to leave saliva in my mouth. It's not fair because I still taste you at night after you leave my house.
9.
One day we'll be older and we won't have to scream "please stay younger" at our skin. Then we'll never get wrinkly because you still love me and we'll never get sad because I still love you. I spoke to you in a dream that I had and all you said was "good things never last" and before I could call you cliche, you had disappeared, your lips from my face. One day we'll be so much older and we won't have to scream "please stay younger" at our skin because I never stopped loving you back. So don't say "good things they never last" because the wrinkles in your face are just the stretch marks that I'll kiss when we're both 21. We'll get coffee and talk about how nothing ever changes. Trust me, I know.
10.
You said don't touch me. You said get the fuck, get away from me. And I respect your distance. Yes, I respect your distance. You said don't touch me. You said get the fuck, get away from me. And I respect your distance. Yes, I will learn to respect your distance. Because I am flawed, yes I am imperfect. And my perfection will come when I am worth it. Now I'm down on my knees praying to get inside your head and between your legs, I am. /// "i like your hair long, too." I know where your priorities lay. I know your love laws and where I stand in relation to them. You like my hair long and men who aren't afraid of their cock. I like to write to someone who will laugh at me if they ever hear this, or call the police. I like your hair long, too. You're solace to these hungry fucking eyes and I wish we still talked. On sleepless nights you're the contortion of my lungs choking on everything I can't say. And other nights, you're barely there at all. I breathe easy whilst carrying expressionlessness, a genetic disease for my kids to carry. Something that says, "papi loves me so much".
11.
Fucking your chest to get closer to your heart. This is a lyric you'll probably hate, but I've loved you from the start. And I hurt you, but you'll never admit it. And I never wanted anything else than to be anyone but myself. You told me I was begging for attention when I told you, "this room, it was built for sickness". There's a collection of stains on sheets I won't throw away because it's the closest I'll get to holding you again. And I never wanted anything else than to be anyone but myself. We can't sleep together but live in separate rooms.
12.
I'll eat you out if you're comfortable. God forbid the children we'll never have hear about this. This is something we'll carry to our graves. I am so stupid and you were 15 and I was older at least inside of my head. I'll never know better and I'll never feel good so long as you still stain the sheets of my bed. And I'll eat you out if you're comfortable with that. And if you're not, then that's fine. We've got all the time that we need. And I'll rip off your shirt and you can grab my belt and we can play with each other, at least for now. We were young and oh so stupid. I'm so sorry, I still am. I touched you there, where you did not feel comfortable with my hands being there. When all I wanted to do was eat you out. So now you can hurt me for my whole life. A justification of sickness I'll never aptly explain in public. It's been 3 years and I'm still waiting to eat you out. I must seem so pathetic now. You're in college talking about your attacker and I must seem like the devil to you now. And I'm just bitter talking about the children we'll never have. Your belly is empty because I could never last. /// "i,i,i all you ever talk about is yourself" Long for affection and shut your eyes, look at me when I speak to you. You're the filthy shadow following me and I wish you were just an unclean memory. But you're not and nothing changes. Nothing ever changes about you.
13.
denouement 10:20
You left me at the lamplight thinking we could get by. You left me standing there as I watched it happen. You broke me like the seasons. You are an anorexic stem and I still goddamn love you. You broke me like the seasons. You are an anorexic stem and I still goddamn love you. Your saliva, I'll drink it all on your mattress because I won't live for you despite the fact that I want to. I want this to be the last song you ever care about. Oh god that sounds pretentious, it's a disease our kids will carry to their graves. It's just the children we'll never have. We make love but it never lasts, in my closet weather casket where I found out you are the one. You are the one. I want this to be the last song you ever hear, if you're even listening. Oh god that sounds pretentious, it's a disease our kids will carry to their graves. /// "the rest of my life" I always felt so fucking sorry for what I did to you. Who I shaped you to be in front of an audience. But see like, you were the one who made me feel like such a big boy when in actuality I was just your dirty old man. So now all I want to be is your special little girl. And I'll find peace of mind in shedding skin. And you'll find yours in the solace of snowfall in your backyard. A reminder of simpler times. For you, your childhood. For me, your parents' house and a sense of self I let fade with the snow's departure. And though this is more like the final chapter in my fucked up little story, I always get wrapped up in the idea that theoretical love is not dead. So I'll feel you more on some days. And then other days you'll be the snowfall in may, non-existent. And then occasionally, occasionally people will remind me of you. Not just in their bodies, but in their playful moans or how someone can clearly stare directly at you but then the positioning of their eyebrows makes it feel like they're looking right through you, all in all making me feel more hollow in the end. And then months of progress get erased. And I get wrapped up in it all over again.

about

It started with falling asleep to the sound of you breathing and ended with waking up to the sound of you leaving.

It started with saliva and ended with the rest of my life.

///

This is a record about obsession. Obsession with people's flaws and the belief that things don't ever have to change if you don't want them to. Then the realization and gradual acceptance of what is years worth of anxiety culminating into smaller, quieter moments. It becomes a sort of intimacy you wish you understood differently. This is a record written for and dedicated to a couple of different people.

credits

released September 16, 2014

This record was written September 2013-August 2014 and recorded June-August 2014 in several rooms of a house where I felt trapped but able to express myself creatively. Long live The Closet Mansion.

Thank you Lynn, Bekah, Danny, Chris, Joe, Nina, Natalie, Donnie, Mark, Mehnaj, Kelly, Ben, Eric, Will, Moore, Mike McGrath, Callum Browne, Matt, Brock, Marykate, Dunn, Anna, James, Sarah, Gio, Jess, Gabby, Eli, Bessman, Sam, Rob and also Chance Wells for all helping me in smaller and larger ways to grow into a better person.

A specific thank you to:
Nina Keoborakot for the beautiful artwork.
Lynn Tuimil for whistling on track 9 and helping me paint CDs.
Ben Curttright for letting me read your lyrics at the beginning of track 8.
Dan Marino for letting me sample you for track 1.
Andrea Villanueva for letting me sample you for track 1.
Angela-Grace Foster for letting me sample you for track 6.
Donald Galluscio for helping me cut tape inserts and for being a big support system.
Mike McGrath for putting this out on sorry girls records.
Callum Browne for putting this out on Little League Records.
Andrea Villanueva, Will Hartle and Alex Moore for putting this out on Gettin Handsy Records.
Rebekah Hack for always being my friend and encouraging me to be the beautiful person that's somewhere inside of me.
Mark Garza for being the younger sibling I never had.
Mitch Welling for teaching me how to write music on a different spectrum.
Rozwell Kid for making me happy.
My parents and older sister for putting up with the noise.
The listener for putting up with all this nonsense and validating my feelings. I love you.

These are songs I wrote to feel better. My name is Jorge Velez. This is Personality Disorders.

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Personality Disorders New York

Songs to fall asleep to.

Bedroom recordings; May 2013-January 2016.

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