whose arms would I run and fall into
if I were drunk
in a room with everyone
I have ever loved."
this becomes almost deeper when you think of non-romantic loves too (via asimetricna-vagina)
Im Emily. 20. I mostly blog porn or cats. deal with it. I throw in some things that interest me from time to time. My blog definitely reflects my mood that day. Feel free to get personal. Send me an anonymous message if you dare ;)
"don’t tell me I am pretty or thin or sweet or good until you have crawled inside my skin and felt the depths and shallows of me. only I know who I am. I live inside myself and it is a rotting cage."
my new favourite post.
Just Fuck Me
Don’t be afraid to hurt me.
I know you worry. Please don’t. I’m not as fragile as you think.
Don’t tug my hair. Grab it. Force me to my knees with your hands in my hair wrapped in a fist. Pull hard. Make my eyes water.
Don’t graze your teeth along my skin. Devour me. Bite down until I cry out. Then do it again.
Don’t caress my throat. I want to feel your fingers wrap tightly around it. Feel my pulse hammer into your palm. Feel the breath short in my chest and that little bit of panic set in.
Don’t nudge my knees apart. Move them like they’re yours to spread. With intention. With possession.
Don’t hold my hands. I want to feel your strong grip around my wrists. Use all your weight. Make me lie still.
I want it to still hurt tomorrow.
I want to see the bruises. The welts. The handprints.
Don’t ask me if I’m ok.
I need to let go and not think.
I need you to make me yours.
Let my body answer for me with each shudder and moan. With the pool of wetness between my thighs.
These are the things I can’t control. I don’t want to control. That’s the point.
Just fuck me."
can she just get an award or something
I reblog this whenever it pops up on my dash.
So many directions she could have gone with this joke…out of infinite possibilities…she picked the best possible direction.
So, a lot of people don’t understand what rape culture is, so I’m going to give you all a little lesson.
Rape culture centers around blaming the victim of sexual assault, rather than the assaulter themselves.
And that is wrong.
The top picture is me now, and me in third grade. I was raped almost every school day for the whole of that year.
Rape culture is my mom asking me, “Did you ask for it?”
Rape culture is I, the victim, asking myself if I was.
Rape culture is people assuming that I was “asking for it” due to my choice of clothes, and what I said and how I acted.
I remember how I asked my rapist every day, to stop, and how I begged my parents to not send me to school. I remember trying to kill myself in order to escape this terrible fucking reality. I remember the long, sleepless nights where I’d cry at 2 AM and run to the bathroom to vomit because I was so fucking scared.
Rape culture is I, the victim, telling myself despite all of this, that I must have asked for it.
Rape culture is an anon messaging me and telling me that I must have dressed provocatively.
And to this, I ask you, “Was my jacket zipper not pulled up far enough?”
Rape culture is having people repeat the words of my rapist years down the line to me, telling me, just like she said to me all those years ago, that I’m a bad person for being raped. Rape culture is being told that I deserved this. Rape culture is telling me that it doesn’t matter how many goddamn times it happened.
That is rape culture.
And rape culture is wrong.
JESUS FUCKING CHRIST THE NOTES I’M CRYING
This needs a hell of a lot more notes, my friend.
•go to the bathroom to escape
•feel very uncomfortable without a phone or some other crutch
•dwell on a small awkward moment for much longer than necessary
•never go to any social event without a person that makes you feel comfortable
•follow said person way too much
•worry about the person beginning to find you obnoxious
•faking an illness to get out of a social event
•Dont buy something necessary because the cashier is intimidating.