Comedy is tragedy that happens to other people.

I'm a 24-year-old Southerner with a BA in English Literary Studies. Femme, bisexual, feminist, and a rape survivor. If you want to know more, check out my About Me or just ask.

LOOK WHAT CAME IN THE MAIL TODAY!!!

I can’t believe I finally own a fountain pen. A purple, leopard fountain pen. The violet and rose inks smell FANTASTIC.  I can’t wait to write with them!

thefleetwitchmac-deactivated201 asked: Once you get this you must share five random facts about yourself. Then pass it on to your ten favorite followers! ◕‿‿◕

I don’t know why I avoid answering these posts because I constantly post about my life, but I do. 

  1. When I was 4 I decided I needed a pet mouse. Although I’d never seen one in my own house, I set a trap to catch one. I used the classic bait-under-a-shoe-box trap. Rather than use food as bait, I used a Minnie Mouse doll posed on a Barbie couch. When Minnie’s seduction didn’t work, I gave her a small plate of cheese to hold. It didn’t work either. 
  2. The first movie I remember seeing in theaters was The Lion King. Our movie theater was in the mall, which was about 5 minutes or so from my house. Mother took me while Dad was at work. I was instantly captivated and didn’t even touch my popcorn. When Mufasa died I was so upset I stood up in my seat and screamed, “Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!” right along with Simba before bursting into tears. I was inconsolable for about 3 minutes and the kid in front of me just turned around and stared. What a little shit.
  3. For most of my life we only had one car, so Mother would take Dad to work and we’d go to pick him up at the end of the day. He was always trying to make one last sale (he sold appliances in Sears), so we ended up sitting in the parking lot for hours. I did most of my homework in the car and I honed my reading skills waiting for him. This is probably why I’ve always been a night owl, as he was often working until close at 9PM. I never had a bedtime.
  4. In the 5th grade I won the D.A.R.E. essay writing contest. My uncle was the chief of police at the time and when he found out I won he arranged for me to ride in the city’s D.A.R.E. Corvette during the next parade. It was magical.
  5. I initiated my first ~relationship~, asking a boy if he wanted to be my boyfriend at the end of 7th grade. We were 13, never went on a date, never held hands that I can remember, and definitely never kissed. Our relationship was really just sporadic phone calls over the summer. At the beginning of 8th grade he gave me a bracelet he’d made of chain mail. That was about as ~serious~ as things got. I dumped him in a sticky note—a mini one, no less—about 2 weeks later and dramatically threw the bracelet somewhere in my yard. Karma from these incidents is probably why every relationship I’ve ever had has been terrible.

I’m sorry for the verbose anecdotes, the only short facts I could easily think of were macabre.

It overwhelms me to know I’ve walked some of the same sidewalks as y’all. Sometimes I wonder if I’ve passed followers or people I follow somewhere in my travels. What a strange, small world.

I forgot to tell y’all I got my Project Unbreakable bracelet, which says:

project unbreakable - the art of healing

I love Project Unbreakable because it reminds me there are other survivors out there who, although we have not shared the exact same experience, understand what I have been through and the toll it has taken on my spirit. 

I forgot to tell y’all I got my Project Unbreakable bracelet, which says:

project unbreakable - the art of healing

I love Project Unbreakable because it reminds me there are other survivors out there who, although we have not shared the exact same experience, understand what I have been through and the toll it has taken on my spirit. 

Someday I’ll send my demons to gnash their teeth and grind your bones, but for now I’ll sip my drink and curse your name.

Our rosebush didn’t bloom much this year, but we’ve got a few now!

Our rosebush didn’t bloom much this year, but we’ve got a few now!

During college my roommate didn’t have a car on campus, but senior year she borrowed her friend/our neighbor’s car. The first time I got in the car with her she said, “I’m a great driver!” and then drove on top of a boulder in our gravel parking lot. We sent this picture (I HAD TO TAKE A PICTURE OF THE PICTURE ON MY OLD PHONE)  to my dad to see if he had any advice.
My friend brought us a jack so we could try and get the car far enough off the ground to pull out the boulder. Roommate didn’t tell the owner of the car until the sun had gone down and we’d exhausted our options. At that point we called a tow truck.
Definitely one of the funniest things I’ve ever experienced. 

During college my roommate didn’t have a car on campus, but senior year she borrowed her friend/our neighbor’s car. The first time I got in the car with her she said, “I’m a great driver!” and then drove on top of a boulder in our gravel parking lot. We sent this picture (I HAD TO TAKE A PICTURE OF THE PICTURE ON MY OLD PHONE)  to my dad to see if he had any advice.

My friend brought us a jack so we could try and get the car far enough off the ground to pull out the boulder. Roommate didn’t tell the owner of the car until the sun had gone down and we’d exhausted our options. At that point we called a tow truck.

Definitely one of the funniest things I’ve ever experienced. 

When the depths of my despair seem boundless, I am reminded of my capacity to feel. If my sorrow can be boundless, why not my joy?

On days like today I’ll gather every sliver of hope until I make it through.

Tonight a man gasped and dragged his teenage son to get in line behind us at Walmart. To my disdain, I heard the man say to his son, “You’ll get a better picture if you get closer to her.” 
Don’t get me wrong—I’m used to wide-eyed stares, awkward giggles, and questions from strangers when I wear my Jeffrey Campbell Spiked Litas. Obviously I love these shoes or I wouldn’t have bought them, but COME ON. Please at least ask before you take my damn picture. 
Y’all let me know if you see me on People of Walmart.

How long?

[TW: rape, alcohol]

How long does it take before I can look at myself in the mirror and not think about what your face looked like that night? How long does it take before I don’t hear you telling me you “won’t judge me like the other boys” before ramming your cock down my throat? How long does it take before you fade from my mind? 

[I think I sob so hard because I want to drown out your voice in my head. It doesn’t matter if I sob so loud I wake the whole house, I can still hear you.]

How long does it take before you can sleep peacefully again? How many nights will I wake up screaming? How many nights will end with scratches and bruises earned in my dreams? How many nights will I try to drink away the memories? 

[I think I drink so much because I want to wash your memory out of my mind. It doesn’t matter if I throw up or black out, you’re still taunting me in my dreams.]

How long until I don’t feel your cock pressed against my panties? How long until I forget the way you shoved me up against my pillows? How long until I don’t feel your cum oozing down my throat, out my mouth, on my breasts? How long until I forget how you taste? 

[I think I make my bathwater so hot because I want to boil your touch off my skin. It doesn’t matter that by now I’ve shed the actual skin you touched, I still feel you.]

How long does it take before a rape victim becomes a functioning member of society again? Is it weeks, months, years, decades? How long?

[I think the answer is a lifetime.]