bad memories, pt. 2

Sometimes our memories fill us with longing nostalgia; a brief flash to a simpler time. Sometimes, we don’t get so lucky.

I have many memories of unpleasantries, but there are a few I need to write about to ease my mind. I’m tired of these sick older men haunting my thoughts.

Many men are unaware of the struggles women face from birth to death. Even the women who are not conventionally “sexy” have problems with being sexually assaulted. If this bothers/triggers you, stop reading now.

Continue reading bad memories, pt. 2

What did I do?

No “pleases” or “thank yous”?
I must’ve done something wrong again.
No “have a nice day” or “I love you”?
I must’ve done something wrong again.
You slammed the door as you left.
I must’ve done something wrong again.
Then you chose to ignore my text.
I must’ve done something wrong again.
You didn’t come home tonight.
I must’ve done something wrong again.
No “I’ll be home” messages.
I must’ve done something wrong again.

I would have said “yes”

There are so many areas that appear to be grey to us when faced with sexual consent. It should be simple for everyone: “yes” means “yes” and everything else means “no.” Sadly, our culture sets us up for failure. Men are expected to be sexually aggressive and able to interpret women’s messages of playing hard-to-get. Women are expected to put up a small fight even when they’re interested. Not only that, but women are expected to look sexually available even when they have no interest at all in having sex that particular day/night. There are hundreds of factors I’m leaving out, here, because there are just simply too many contributors to rape culture.

When you’re at a party with close-knit friends you should feel safe to stifle your inhibitions and let loose. Even if one of those opposite-sex friends has a really cool snap-button shirt that’s fun to rip open when you get really tipsy.

That’s the last thing I coherently remember. His awesome blue and purple flannel shirt with the snap buttons. Then I passed out on the couch in the living room. I woke up naked next to him in a bed. No, I do not remember leaving the couch. No, I do not remember him being all over me all night. No, I certainly do not remember having sex; but I do remember a single flash of a moment of having my legs hastily thrown to the side so he could enter me. In that half second of clarity I tried to say “stop.” I don’t know if I did or not; I don’t remember anything.

The part that makes me the angriest about this is that I would have consented if he just fucking asked. Instead, he took it without my permission and left me scarred.

Moral of the story: Don’t rape.
Sub-moral of the story: ASK and you might receive.

tearful hope

Last night was devastating for many Americans. Today the hallways are filled with whispers…

“I can’t believe it.”
“What was everyone thinking?”
“How could this happen?”
“What are we going to do?”

What we’re going to do is stay strong and stick together like we always have. There is a misogynistic, racist, homophobic piece of garbage that will be taking over our country’s leadership. Will it be the first time? No. Will it be the last time? Hopefully, but probably not. What matters is that we understand that even though he is in charge, we have the power.

We have the power to better our world and ourselves. Simply having the water-cooler morning talk today brought together everyone in my office, Democrats, Republicans, and all other voters were discussing the election peacefully and respectfully. We don’t talk much normally and the fact that we came together to grieve over a loss showed me something important: We came together.

People are capable of the utmost compassion and it’s crucial right now to embrace that quality in mankind. I may be poor, unknown, and full of mental issues, but I won’t let that stop me from doing everything I can to help those in need; those in fear. Here are some ways you can help, too:

Donate:
Planned Parenthood
The Future Project
NCADV
RAINN
ACLU
Friends of the Earth
Border Angels
NextGen Climate

Volunteer:
Combat Racism
Help Your Community
End Police Violence
Support Muslim Friends
Help in the Next Election
Support LGBTQ
Help Immigration and New Americans

If you don’t have time or money, try these simple things:
25 Ways to Help a Fellow Human Being Today

Most importantly, NEVER forget to help yourself, too!:
Suicide Prevention
Trans Lifeline
The Trevor Project

 

(Source; I got the helpful links from this article: Huffington Post article)

college culture

img_5035

This is not an image that should strike fear into your heart.

This is what I see when I leave my classes at night and begin the trek to the parking lot. Most of you who look at this will think “well-lit pathway, what could be so scary?” What scares me isn’t the pathway. It’s the current culture of college in America that scares me.

Females are regularly scared to walk alone to their cars at night and this is one long walk, even with well lit paths.

I’m tired of carrying a knife at all times.
I’m tired of putting my keys between my knuckles every time I walk to my car.
I’m tired of wondering if the cat calls are going to escalate.
I’m tired of my hands shaking while I hurry to unlock my car door.
I’m tired of looking over my shoulder at every tiny noise around me.
Most of all?
I’m fucking tired of living in a world where rape is extremely common and rarely punished.

no one cares

I can’t talk to anyone that I know personally. Strangers don’t have the right insight because, well, they don’t know me. I don’t know who to tell (yet again) that I am so depressed I can hardly keep my handle on life. Who hasn’t heard it 700 times before? Is there anyone left in my life who will take me seriously rather than say “sorry you feel that way” and nothing more? I have spent the past few years screaming for help and telling everyone around me that I can’t hold on for too much longer; not if I’m in this alone. Those who claim to care about me most never know what to say; they say they’ll do anything they can to help me but neither of us knows what will help.

All I know is that I have been teetering on the edge for too long and all it will take is one small fumble at the wrong time to send me over the edge into the abyss.

 

Sometimes I wish my mind would just break so I could live in delusions instead of this pathetic reality.

halloween highs

I haven’t felt this manic in weeks (ha! mental illness humor). Thank you, I’ll be here all night.

Halloween is usually the only time of year where I feel truly like myself. This is when I can let myself be free. Wearing dark, tattered clothes and putting on grungy/smeared makeup makes me feel like Alexis again. Throughout the year I have to look professional for work and my academic societies; being myself is very rare as I get older. Adulthood is not like high school when you get to express yourself every day, consequences be damned!

Halloween is the time of year when I can actually talk about the darkness that lurks in all of our minds. This is the only time of year that even the most innocent souls are curious to know what horrors lie out there, waiting to be discovered. It’s addicting, learning what people believe in and their opinions on the paranormal/supernatural.

The realm of the dead bleeds over into the minds of almost everyone, especially in the wake of autumn. The days succumb to darkness much earlier. The air is crisp. The leaves are crunchy. The air itself tastes like sweet apple cider and pumpkin seeds fresh from the oven. Our hearts crave sweets in this time of year, our brains crave spooks and frights. Our souls, however, crave protection from the evil on the other side of the thin veil.

Many still believe that from midnight on All Hallow’s Eve on to midnight November 1st the veil is lifted, freeing souls around the world; allowing them to wreak havoc on our world for an entire 24 hours before they are dragged back to whence they came. This may scare the superstitious, yet I look forward to it every single other day of the year. Halloween is when I get to free my mind, enrich my soul, and dance in the night with the souls of the dead.

Come, my companions, and frolic in the darkness amongst the spirits of the passed.

memes and emojis

I don’t even know how to communicate with people anymore; not on that deep level that develops close friendships.

Sad? Here’s an entire work day wasted on Imgur looking at memes about apathy and depression. (Ok, some animal gifs, too.)

Lonely? Send emojis to fucking everybody and get no responses.

My phone call history is 98% spam calls/wrong number calls.

Sure, some classmates talk to me and act civil. Any time I see them outside of class they avert their eyes or just give that extremely obvious “mm” nod at everything I say. Am I really that pathetic and annoying? Is there no way to meet new people who are like me?

Sometimes I wonder if this is a personality flaw. Sometimes I wonder if my standards are too high. Sometimes I wonder if the world has simply devolved into meaningless conversations and memes instead of focusing on connecting with people.

My self-esteem isn’t great but there is no way I’m as lame as I get treated.

 

/anotheruselesspostaboutnothing

accepting help

accepting help is the hardest thing to do

especially when you resist all forms of getting better

why? why can’t I accept help?

because your sick brain doesn’t want any goddamn help

it wants to sit alone in the darkness and fade away

nothingness sounds so nice

no more sadness

no more trauma

no more talking

no more stress

just emptiness
gone