I wonder what cats dream of?
I have never been more riveted by a set of info before GIVE ME MORE
(Source: best-of-memes, via everyelixir)
When I was 13 years old and curious about sex and love, I asked my mom if she had had sex before marrying my father (of whom she is still married to, and has been since before I was born). She said that that wasn’t really a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question. I said ‘sure it is, you’ve either had sex before him, or you haven’t’. She brought me onto the couch and sat me down and told me about the boy she liked when she was young and how one night she snuck into his house while his parents were gone and they were kissing and he said they should have sex and she said that she wanted to save sex for marriage and he laughed and basically took all her clothes off and he raped her and as my mom was telling the story she cried and this was the second time I had ever seen my mom cry. She was 12 when it happened.
In grade 8 I got a call from my friend in the middle of the night and she was drunk in the park crying and told me that she went out that night with some other friends and they drank a little and her guy “friend” starting flirting and yes she laughed at first but then he tried to pull her shirt over her head and she pulled away and he ripped her shirt and it was her favourite shirt and then he pushed her to her knees and HIS BEST FRIEND HELD HER JAW OPEN WHILE HE FACE FUCKED HER. And so I went to the park and picked her up and took her home and slept in her bed with her except we didn’t sleep because she just cried and her mouth bled and this was four years ago but I still have to be the one to bring her items to the till it the cashier is a man, and she still has anxiety attacks and she’ll get a rash all over her body and I just want to kill those boys but instead they are still walking around. And I’m in the bathroom with her, dabbing at her skin with a warm cloth until it returns to its regular colour.
And in grade 9 one of my closest friends was kinda seeing this boy and so they hung out one night and then she said that she really had to be getting back home and he said that she wasn’t going anywhere until she gave him what he wanted and he parked the car and took off her clothes and she said no and he ignored her and so she laid in the backseat totally limp and just cried and it wasn’t even sex, he just masterbated by using her body instead of his hand and she came to school the next day with vodka in her water bottle and she drank all day and I had to fight her to get the alcohol away from her and she just cried and threw up and I skipped class while I held her hair back and that same boy texted me a month later, asking if I ever wanted to hangout sometime.
And in that same year my very best friend who has never even kissed a boy, confessed to me that when she was 9 years old, her 12 year old cousin made her give him a hand job and he told her that was what cousins do and he gave her a chocolate bar afterwards and she told me that he probably doesn’t even remember it but that it’s something that she’ll never have the luxury of forgetting.
And in grade 10 I knew a girl who invited her best friend over to watch Disney movies and then he started to put his hands down her pants and she said no but she is 130lbs and he is 220lbs and he called her a tease while she tried to fight him but he used one hand to hold her down, and the other to put inside of her and i was the one to push her inside of a classroom and stand in front of her while calling the police when he showed up at our school looking for her and she was so damn scared.
And a few months later I skipped class and was in the car with a guy who i had had unprotected sex with in the past while under the influence of cocaine but this time I was sober and I insisted we use a condom but he told me he couldn’t feel anything while the condom was on so he ripped it off and I said I refused to have unprotected sex again and so he just grabbed me and forced himself into my mouth and I was crying and he pulled me onto him and I just came saying “stop” over and over like a broken record but he must’ve heard something different because he went until he came and I just sat naked in the backseat while he drove me back to the school and said “we should do this again sometime”. And I had five showers that night and I scratched at my skin so hard to try and rip his fingerprints off of me, I still have the scars.
And I found out soon afterwards that that same guy had raped a classmate of mine, 5 months earlier and she told me about how he brought her McDonald’s first, and how he said they could take things slow and she told me about how he didn’t listen to her either. And he goes to our school and so after she told me about her incident and I told her about mine, we decided to report it to the police and the trial is currently still going on and he told people about it, except in his version we are just “asking for attention” and all his friends talk about how bad they feel for him. As if HE is the one that still wakes up screaming. As if HE felt like his skin no longer was beautiful, no longer belonged to him.
And I held her in my arms as she bawled after giving the police her statement. And she did the same for me.And I met a woman a year ago in a paint store and she had a service dog and I asked what the dog was for and it turns out that she had been so brutally raped and abused in her life, that the dog is literally trained to keep men away from her.
And I’m so FUCKING SICK AND TIRED OF THIS WORLD WE ARE LIVING IN. How many rape victims eyes have I already looked into? How many more will I? And how many more friends will I hold while they shake? Because I don’t know how many more I can take. And who the fuck still has the nerve to make rape jokes? And… Something just has to change. Please, someone just start being that change.
-16 year old girl
Did I reblog this already I dont care
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(Source: joshpeck, via deathbyorgasm)
- Me: *doesnt eat*
- Stomach: *hurts*
- Me: *eatS*
- Stomach: *also hurts*
- Me: ok u know what. fuck you
tfw = two fucking weiners
I swear someone walking in on me watching porn would be easier to explain than this
(Source: acdsv34ce198qfchsldkja, via i-spread-my-wings-to-fly)
Untitled by Twinturbobmw // Edited by MFL
(Source: Flickr / the_stig63, via i-spread-my-wings-to-fly)
Her first response: “when you were 8, you cut your hair short and told everyone to call you ‘Nicholas,’ and since then I’ve always had a feeling this day might come”
Her second response: “you don’t have to cry, I’ll love you through it all, just tell me what you need”
Her third response: “I just don’t want my child to struggle”
I didn’t tell her I knew about the phone call she had with my brother immediately before ours
In which she said, “I don’t understand this”
“I am upset”
“This doesn’t make sense”
“This is coming at a bad time for me”
A phone call in which he tells her it’s not about her
Or her convenience
Or her ability to comprehend my identity
I didn’t tell her I was crying because I don’t believe her
(I was crying because she conditioned me to prepare for the storm that always follows her calm acceptance)
I instead say, “I’m crying because I thought you’d yell at me”
I thought she’d scream
At me for being myself
How silly of me to say that, right?
How silly of me to hold her hand
to support her, a genuine, set in stone woman
to imply a tandem bicycle gender journey
to let her think this belongs to her as much as it does me
to make her think her opinion will just decide who I actually am
How silly of me
to have to wait
until
she
changes
her
mind
Her fourth response: “I just need to process this”
—“TODAY I TOLD MY MOTHER I’M NOT ALL WOMAN BY MEANS OF A 27 MINUTE PHONE CALL (I CRIED FOR 15 OF THEM)” by Nikki Burian (via nikkiburianpoetry)
(via nonsensicalnoelle)
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Christians.
(Source: drunktrash, via hypothesaurus)








