Hello, my friends. I am content. I am happy with content. I’m feeling more motivated today than I have been for a long time. There’s shit I want to get done and I feel awesome about that.
Flapjack has offered to pay for part of a ticket out to see her. She lives out in the UK. We’re aiming for June. It’s amazing how much we have in common, not just interest wise like books and adventures and stuff, but like, bedroom stuff too. (It can get weird.) It’s fun having someone to share stuff with.
I’ve been doing a lot of thinking on something. Besides the sensory part of it, I think I don’t like being touched because I was always told how gross and smelly I was when I was a kid. It was also cemented in a bit when I was called fat and gross when I moved in with my aunt and uncle. (Was a bit tubby, not fat). Then, when I was raped as a teen, I felt so dirty and tainted that I didn’t want to touch anyone anyway.
It wasn’t really the first time I had been raped and it wasn’t the last either. I’d been coerced into having or doing sexual acts with people so many times I’ve lost count. So really, I’ve been spending a lot of time trying to figure out what made this time so fucking traumatic.
- It was really violent and unexpected. Like, insanely so. Gang rape and all sorts of nasty shit.
- I wasn’t wearing my glasses. I’d just started wearing them and could manage to see up close, but everything was a little blurry regardless. I can’t tell you exactly what they looked like.
- It was the first time since moving away from my childhood home. It was the first time where it didn’t involve someone I wanted to hang out with because I was desperate for attention.
- I got pregnant. Had a miscarriage. Cannot have kids now. It’s such bullshit.
That’s all I got for right now. Now I’m going to go do things that don’t involve thinking about that.
-The Sarcastic Autist