How the hell am I supposed to react to this?
Internal Monologue
I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to do. Fuck.
A guy I used to practically be best friends with, and who I hung around with every single weekend has just been convicted of rape and paedophilia. We fooled around when I was younger, he was kind to me though a lot older. My mind has blown up. The news report said that one of the girls he raped was in the place we used to fool around. I knew what we had wasn’t anything special, it was a completely casual thing, the same as kissing your friends when you get drunk. Woah. My mind is spinning. I have no fucking clue what’s going on. I feel sick and disgusted and weird. I feel like I should feel sorry for him but then I think, I was one of the girls. He was around 22 when I met him aged around 12. I was one of the girls.
Judge Dafydd Hughes told Thomas he displayed “contempt and arrogance and an almost flippant attitude” towards the way he treated young women.
He’s always been arrogant, but he was nothing but lovely to me. He’d treat me with happiness, always give me a cuddle when he saw me. Whoah. Fuck. Am I remembering it wrong though? He wasn’t a bad person. I guess he was. I thought I was very grown up I guess, doing sexual things with someone that much older, he was interested in me, and he was mature. Not a kid, he preferred me over people much older. Fuck. My mind is spinning so much right now. I can’t even put my feelings into words. I feel dis gusted.
Anonymous asked:
How did you lose your virginity?
This has been sat in my inbox forever, so I apologise. I couldn’t decide how to say it, I couldn’t decide whether to tell the truth, or the half-truth that I prefer. I figure I owe it to you, dear invasive anon, or you, my followers to tell the truth. This blog is about me telling the truth anyway, so I suppose I must, though I will try to make it as un-graphic as possible. I apologise if you were expecting romance and chivalry.
I was about 11. I had gone into town with my sister for the day, and while with some of her friends, all quite a bit older than me, they suggested to my sister to go camping. She agreed, and they asked if I’d like to come, I said I would, not telling them that I had never smoked, never drank, both things being the aim of the trip. My sister called my Mother and she consented to us both going as long as we promised to be good, and my sister promised to look after me.
We got on the bus to our intended destination, and got off at the small village closest. We walked for around half an hour, my sister, one girl her age, 5 guys a lot older, and myself, along with 5 crates of beer, a bottle of Vodka, and an ounce of marijuana. We’d walked up hills, all the way through this village and came upon our intended camping spot - the ruins of a castle. Of course, camping here was not really permitted, but that’s how it went.
As the night went on, I became more and more intoxicated. It was the first time I’d drank properly and therefore after my 4th beer I was already stumbling quite badly. I continued to drink, and asked to smoke some weed, which was a request instantly granted. My sister was sat alone with one of the guys, at the top of the castle. Several times I tried to go and see her, though each time I was told to leave her alone. Later on, one of the boys, 16/17 years my senior, realised I was in a state. I could barely stand when walking back to the tent and so he offered to help me. The ground once again came up to meet my face. He took me by the waist to support me as we walked, but instead of taking me to the tent, we turned left, to a more sheltered area of the ruins. It was dark now, and when the other girl came to make sure I was alright, she couldn’t see us, only outlines. The guy I was with told her I was okay, simply very drunk and he told her I needed to sit down. She stumbled away. After this, he told me several times that I was safe, and it was okay that it hurts, and that I shouldn’t be afraid. At this point I had a mild idea of what was happening, and tried to put my clothes back on. He tried to restrain me, and succeeded, though the second time he let me go. I ran back to the tent, on my way vomitted, and smoked some more weed. The entire group, bar my sister and her friend, were sat together, as I laid down to sleep. I cried, and slept quickly.
The next day we rode home on the bus together, and he gave me a hug as we parted ways. I never felt more disgusting.
I never told anybody about this, not properly. Still to this day, only those that read this blog will know. I was idiotic, and I shouldn’t have let this happen. I will never forgive myself.
Whenever I feel like I can do something my brain does all it can to prove otherwise.
I’m doing this all now simply because I’m in a shit mood as I’ve got approximately 3 days til I fail art, the only thing I was ever moderately good at.
1. I started aged 9/10 roughly, so 8 or 9 years. I started because I’d get angry at myself, as I never got angry at others. I never had the ability to shout others down, so I took it out on myself. It started by pulling out hair, hitting myself and eventually to cutting.
2. My right thigh. I have a long trail of scars extending from about mid thigh level to my hip, where they branch out. The top ones are most recent, as they are easily hidden.
3. I don’t want to recover.
4. I guess so. I feel like it is something I depend on, something that I gain enjoyment out of, and something that is also detrimental to me/my health.
5. When people worry. It makes me feel guilty as hell and I hate it.
6. The release. The feeling. The punishment. The fact that I control it. The way I can feel the layers of skin ripping. The way the blade sometimes catches. The feeling as the blood drips.
7. i) Digging my fingernails into my palms.
ii) smoking
iii) hitting myself
iv) whacking the heels of my hands together
v) cracking my knuckles/playing with my hands
I can’t think of any more
8. I’m not sure. I don’t really know what you would class as “supportive”. To be honest, I don’t want to stop, because I love the release of it. So yeah, I don’t know.
9. No.
10. I’m proud of them. Not in the way that I want to show them off, but I feel oddly attached to them. I always feel quite happy when I know a cut will scar well.
11. I’m not sure.
12. On the table next to my bed, where my computer monitor sits. Occasionally elsewhere.
13. That it is something I need to do, not something I want to do.
14. I’m not recovering.
15. No.
16. Don’t start. Don’t ever even try it.
17. Yes, a disturbingly large amount.
18. Well done, I hope you feel better now. I hope you got that tattoo, and I hope you feel beautiful.
19. See 14.
20. I suppose when I’d sit against my bedroom door, cigarette in one hand, blade in the other. I’d alternate between burning and cutting and then one day my mum came in just as I’d finished. All she did was comment on how it smelled like incense and to stop burning it in my room.
21. Never properly. I’m not.
22. In fantasy worlds.
23. I’m not really sure.
24. Anger, my sister, feelings of ugliness, frustration, not being good enough or going nowhere in life.
25. 100% of self harmers harm themselves?
26. Escapism.
27. I don’t burn myself often anymore? That’s mainly due to now living in a non-smoking house though, and therefore I have to smoke outside in view of any neighbours looking out of their windows.
28. To finish art.
29. No.
30. I hate all photos of myself. I look like shit in all of them.
I hate my brain.
Today was the kind of day that I sit inside shouting at myself to fucking smile. It was a pretty okay day, and I should have been happy. I would have been happy a few years ago. I don’t know why I can’t muster it up though, I literally scream inside my head to be happy, that I have no idea what is wrong. But it just won’t work. It would seem my brain and my happy don’t like each other. Happy just ignores brain as brain just sits there cozying up to meh who is always just chilling there. Cunts.
In my perfect future, I would live alone in a house full of books and DVDs, series of sci-fi and beautiful movies. I would make friends with the characters and never have to see the outside world. I could get shopping delivered to me, and drink and smoke and read and watch to my hearts content. I would never visit Outside, unless it were to be spent in my garden, with an old swing hanging off a tree and a pond full of ducks. If only.
When the blade is covered in blood. Wow.
I just need to say:
My mind is totally fucked. I have no ability to speak about how I am feeling, since I was little I have never been able to reveal any sort of weakness to anyone. I didn’t even tell my mother when I got my period. The people that follow me on here - Thank you. I’m sorry that I’ve shown you this side of me, but it means a lot that you don’t think any worse of me for it. And I want you all to know that should you ever need anything, absolutely anything, you can come to me. I trust you all completely, and I want you all to feel that the same can be true for me. I will Never judge you for anything. I hope you all know that. Thank you all. You mean the world to me.
