祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
KIROKAZE
@theartofmadeline
wallacepolsom
RMH
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
h
JVL
blake kathryn
🪼
occasionally subtle
⁂
Product Placement
Jules of Nature
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
taylor price
Three Goblin Art
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Claire Keane
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from India
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Sweden
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Greece
seen from Germany
seen from India
seen from Malaysia
@bargaining-withmysoul
“The loneliest moment in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly.”
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby. (via wordsnquotes)
Yes. This is how I felt as I watched my dad die. Nothing has ever felt as dark and empty as that long night
“how in the world did we get here how did we live through it and how are we still living”
— Rupi Kaur, from The Sun and Her Flowers (Andrews McMeel Publishing, 2017)
It was rape, after all.*trigger warning*
There’s something that has been coming to mind lately as I delve more into my own feminist values.
I discourage victim-blaming and I preach about the need for society to teach boys not to rape, rather than teaching girls not to be raped.
But my own story, my own sexual assault is one I’ve yet to own.
To call it rape. To write out those words is more difficult than I imagined. I spent years wondering if the after affects of that night were fabricated in my own mind. Did I exaggerate? Did my clear statement of “No”, multiple times before the alcohol set in get cancelled out after that last shot at his house?
Did I imagine checking my own vagina afterwards to see if I was still a “virgin”?
Was I just regretting drunk sex when minutes after apparent assault, I cried to my friend saying, “I don’t know if he had sex with me or not?” How could he have raped me if he carried me inside her house afterwards and let me borrow his shirt so I didn’t throw up on myself?
Was I in denial when I read the text on my friends phone that said, “How do I tell my friend what happened to her that night?”
She didn’t have to tell me, I already knew. I felt different, but he couldn’t have been to blame.
It couldn’t have been rape if my high school made ME change my class schedule around because I couldn’t stand being in class with him afterwards, right? Because if it was in fact rape, why wouldn’t the school make him leave the class we were in together?
If it was rape, why did my own parents question the nature of the assault?
If it was rape, why did I spend years trying to define what had occurred with another word besides “rape?”
If it was rape, I wouldn’t have possibly felt bad for him, for tarnishing his reputation. I wouldn’t have had to justify my withdrawn nature to people who knew afterwards. I wouldn’t sit there and wonder why my friend who was there that night became friends with the very same person I was assaulted by. I wouldn’t have felt remorse when he tried to convince me that I, in fact, came on to him while he was stone cold sober. I wouldn’t have spent years without having what happened validated by other people.
Right?
Because if it was truly rape, I wouldn’t have blamed myself since the age of 16.
It wouldn’t have taken me 6 years to re-utter the word rape.
What happened that night was rape. There was no in between, no grey area that evening. I was silenced by a misogynistic culture I had not yet come to understand.It’s taken me six years to say that beyond a shadow of doubt, it was rape.
I hope to one day live in a world where victims are no longer silenced by a society that refuses to hear our voices.
Don’t be afraid to say that word “rape.”
I wrote this a year or so back. I’m amazed at the voice I had back then and I wonder where it’s gone.
“I’ve made being distant an art form. Don’t you know I learned from the best? I’ve ghosted a close friend without making an effort to fix our problems. I can shut down like an electronic device during a thunderstorm. It’s beautiful how I like men I’ve never met. You’d be proud.”
— Hannah Cohen, from “You Know We’ll Have a Good Time Then,” published in Memoir Mixtapes
“you have to burn the house of your trauma to the ground.”
— mud howard, from “ghoul,” published in Blue Mesa Review
So I had over a year sober. I got complacent, and truly believed that if I pushed all of the shit below the surface, that I’d never go back to that place again. Yet here I am, waiting to fall six feet below. I don’t know how to come back. I don’t know how to want to.
I think that’s the biggest part- wanting to, that is. When I drink and use, it has a hold on me and how do i want to escape from its grasps?
With every sip I take, the anxiety diminshes. I’m finally at home in my skin: in this body I haven’t had a clue what to do with for so long. The drunken lull of my heart beating slower and slower cradles me to sleep, as I long for the days where I feel secure. Where have they gone?
Officially
A year sober :)
…Our existence is but a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness.
Vladimir Nabokov, Speak, Memory (via wordsnquotes)
The poison leaves bit by bit, not all at once. Be patient. You are healing.
Yasmin Mogahed (via onlinecounsellingcollege)
…and then, I have nature and art and poetry, and if that is not enough, what is enough?
Vincent van Gogh (via wordsnquotes)
Some cause happiness wherever they go; others whenever they go.
Oscar Wilde (via purplebuddhaproject)
I survive. A year I never thought would be as hard Or as beautiful As it was I survive. The scratched and torn words mark something Breaking into something new I survive. The frantic text messages and blurred memories Nights of fighting myself in an numb comfort I survive. A plastered smile As the pieces of me Tear underneath I survive. I begin to rebuild And learn That breaking is part of it I survive. I see relationships change without ending I see time continue to move I see myself change, yet stay the same I survive. I learn to stay in the present tense I survive.
Based off of this post by @inkskinned (via avery-writes)
