So, I’m sitting here, bored out of my mind and supposed to be studying……. And I realize I need new websites to go to, and to quit forgetting about Tumblr. How do I pass my time?
I’ve had tumblr for a while….
And I still don’t know how to post shit. Really? I’m pathetic. I should end up like them.
[trigger warning for rape (this might get a bit graphic)]
You’re allowed to laugh at whatever you please, but take a minute (or two or ten) to think about what you’re laughing at before you start.
To be honest, I won’t stop you from thinking rape’s funny. Go for it and tell people how it’s not rape if you yell surprise and how rape is your favorite hobby or whatever the fuck else but you do wrong by me when you start to assume that your behavior is harmless or, even worse, acceptable.
You’re allowed to be a complete asshole as long as you know what you are - a complete and utter fucking asshole who supports rape culture and who thinks apathy toward, and hell, even the encouragement of sexual assault crimes should continue to be the norm. If you think anything else of yourself after telling a rape joke I hate to break it to you but you’re basically a diarrhea-plagued bull at this point and should expect a lecture (or two or ten.)
Rape isn’t what you did to your fucking math test. Rape isn’t what happens when someone posts too frequently on your dashboard. Rape is what happens when someone preforms what is typically considered to be a sexual act onto another without their full, affirmative, enthusiastic, sober, and non-coerced consent.
I can’t tell you about every situation but I can tell you mine. Rape is what happened when my then-boyfriend and I got into a fight and he decided that the best way to teach me a lesson would be to beat the shit out of me and then rape me until I wasn’t conscious and he might have continued even then, I wouldn’t know because he slammed my head into a wall because I wouldn’t keep quiet and I passed out. Rape is what happened when he, a man at least a foot taller than me and about twice my age, held me down and assaulted me despite the fact that I was screaming, crying, begging him not to. Rape is why I woke up with torn ligaments and bruised thighs and a body that wouldn’t stop shaking for days. Rape is why I have burn marks on my arms - he gave me one for every one of the four times it happened so I wouldn’t forget. Rape is why I woke up at fifteen fucking years old with the taste of blood and cum and vomit in my mouth. Rape is the reason why I can’t be touched without shaking at times. Rape is why I’m afraid to sleep some nights, because I’m afraid I’ll have nightmares and flashbacks. Rape is why I hated my body to the point of physically injuring and starving it. Rape is why I’ve tried to kill myself more times than I’d like to admit.
Rape is not what fucking happens when you win in a video game. It’s what happens when someone takes complete fucking advantage of you with no regards as to what you want or feel and every time you make a casual rape joke you run the risk of reminding every survivor around you of their experiences or of confirming the thought in potential and/or active rapists that sexual assault isn’t ‘that big of a deal’ and is perfectly acceptable.
So please, stop telling me that it’s normal or harmless to think rape is funny because it’s not. If you think there’s anything funny or even remotely ‘all right’ about what happened to me or to the absolutely miserable amount of people of all genders all across the planet that this happens to then you’re a disgusting and pathetic excuse for a person and will be treated as such.
The end.
(Source: unlubricated-anal-sex)
I’m
fed up, shit, unhappy, empty, sad, unsatisfied, miserable, confused, irritated, hurting, emotional, blank, nothing, distracted, lonely, exhausted, scared, wary, jealous, tired, overwhelmed, isolated, nobody…fine.
It hurts to let go. Sometimes it seems the harder you try to hold on to something or someone the more it wants to get away. You feel like some kind of criminal for having felt, for having wanted. For having wanted to be wanted. It confuses you, because you think that your feelings were wrong and it makes you feel so small because it’s so hard to keep it inside when you let it out and it doesn’t coma back. You’re left so alone that you can’t explain.
Henry Rollins (via lajoiedevivre)
Take a minute to back away from your own wants and needs, and reach out to those who might seem shy, quiet, different, ‘weird’, a ‘loner’, etc…. they may need a friend, may be dealing with things in their lives and have no one to talk about it with. One simple ‘hello’ could mean…
