theoceanofconsciousness:

hi everyone!!!! we’ve been slow on everything because everything sucks right now but we have a fun cool thing for you to try your hand at if you like writing or reading fiction!!

one of our followers who we both admire very much came up with this cool idea a couple weeks ago that we said we would show off for ‘em to get it started.

it’s called Weaving Webs and it’s a fun lil thing about how we’re all connected. 

the idea is to: 
show how we are all connected / use our own experiences to make fictional characters

it’d be great if your story:

  • has at least one reference to another character/event/place/shared concept from another ww story
  • is a reflection of your own experience
  • uses non-heteronormative relationships/individuals
  • is written in a style similar to that of the original four stories
  • is less than 550 words

we’re really excited about it and we’re planning on submitting stuff soon too! everyone should give it a try!!

i want it all on display
the whole night
starting from my best friends couch
the drunk girl you thought was cute
the first shot i took
the first american party you’d ever been to
the first hipster cigarette you smoked
the first “your accent is cute” that made me insecure

everything

i want everyone to know about it

i want everyone to know everything that happened that night
i want them to know
because if they know then i won’t have to hold on to it
i won’t have to keep thinking about it to remind myself
it’s real
it happened
those words tumbled out of your mouth onto my face
and i did not cry.
i did not cry.
you did not cry.
i did not touch you the way you touched me
and
i want it known now that 
yes, it was because of the things i knew about you
everything you told me made me scared to touch you
everything made me scared to touch you because i knew
i knew how fucking fragile you were an i did not want to be just another person who watched you shatter and left the pieces
i did not trust myself to care for you in that way
that night
i did not know what to do so i laid in bed facing your back
i asked if you were awake and you didn’t respond
i eventually fell asleep
the next day i held you while you cried and we had a conversation about what happened
you said
“somehow we’re always okay”
and i want everyone to know that no,
now, we are not okay
we are not “always okay”
we were only “always okay” because i never let anything get too deep inside of me (ha ha)
everything bounced off the surface of my stomach
every mean thing i heard was sliced in half by my shoulder blades
every insult hurled, nightmare recounted, “honey”, was tossed into the toilet with bile
funny thing is, i clogged our plumbing and all of that hurt flooded my basement
just as snow that melted too fast flooded yours years earlier

i want all the journal entries hung up in museums

i want all the words that dripped like venom onto my face scrawled on every sidewalk
i want everyone to see them
i want everyone to step on them until they are erased 
i want people to spit on those words like they are nothing
until they start to feel like nothing
to me

i want everyone to know how often i was lied to
i want everyone to know why i went crazy in college:
you
i want everyone to know that over the course of 5 years of us being whatever
you spoke very openly about sex you had with strangers and with that boy and with that girl and with your best friend
and then when you felt bad about it it was up to me to remind you you are more than sex
even though we were whatever
and i felt sick knowing you liked someone else while you were still calling me “the one”
and i felt sick knowing that you lied to me about it
and i feel sick knowing that you don’t even regret hurting me that bad
and i feel sick that i was not even on a list of things to consider
a list of pros and cons was made and i was not on either side
i was not a pro or a con to you
i was just nothing


i wan everyone to know all the shitty things i remember you saying
i want everyone to know all of the terrible things you confided in me
i don’t want anyone to be happy you are getting better
i want everyone to wish you were dead
but those are not my things to share
(but really, that boy at that party? i am not the only one you fucked) (and that boy? that was all you, baby)

i want everyone to know what happened that night was corrective rape
i want everyone to know that even before that, you tried to fix me
and when i was not fixed you felt bad
you felt unworthy
and instead of listening to me when i said it wasnt you
you started to resent me and you held it against me
and everything bottled up until you were in my bed and on top of me
and i was wet because that’s what bodies do
and i was called a liar
and i was told that it was really hot, how wet i was
and i was made to listen to stories over and over
“you’re so wet for me”
“enjoy it”
“you want it”
corrective rape
i will say it over and over again, until it is all out of my system

i wish i kept a count of how many times this conversation happened

you: something about sex 
me: i don’t ever want to talk about sex with you
you: ok, ugh, sorry, noted

i should not have had to tell you that more than once
and that is me being generous
i should have never had to tell you that
and the times you asked why?
go fuck yourself, that’s why
i don’t need a fucking reason

i want everyone to know why i wake up at night covered in sweat in places that i know are safe
in my friend’s basement
on my friend’s bed
on my sister’s couch
in the arms of someone who is not you
i want everyone to know every single nightmare still involves you

i want everything on display
i want it all out
i want to be free

hi everyone!!!! we’ve been slow on everything because everything sucks right now but we have a fun cool thing for you to try your hand at if you like writing or reading fiction!!

one of our followers who we both admire very much came up with this cool idea a couple weeks ago that we said we would show off for ‘em to get it started.

it’s called Weaving Webs and it’s a fun lil thing about how we’re all connected. 

the idea is to: 
show how we are all connected / use our own experiences to make fictional characters

it’d be great if your story:

  • has at least one reference to another character/event/place/shared concept from another ww story
  • is a reflection of your own experience
  • uses non-heteronormative relationships/individuals
  • is written in a style similar to that of the original four stories
  • is less than 550 words

we’re really excited about it and we’re planning on submitting stuff soon too! everyone should give it a try!!

anger anger anger anger anger
why do i have so much within me
i think i being it upon myself.
i set myself up for frustration. I see something happening and don’t stop it. I predict what will happen and let it go. I become a victim of circumstance and use that as a reason to become infuriated. and i am
i feel like i will never really connect to anything. because of the anger. or maybe thats why I’m angry. its hard to say.
i think i put up a guard. i try so hard to make sure I’m seen seriously that i won’t allow myself to be seen as vulnerable. and that is my greatest weakness.
i know its my weakness and it makes me want to cry and scream and carry on- but i keep my composure like always do.
and it leads to loneliness.
nobody wants to pursue a girl they think is going to turn them down nd scoff in 2 seconds flat.
nobody. I’m just that. and people think I’m intimidating. and thats it.
im so not in control of my life- only my school life.
i throw myself into school too much and make no room for anything else.two days into spring break and I’m about to break down- and its sad because i didn’t have one break down all school year.
it just dawned on me though (after waiting girls- how cliche) that i cannot connect. and it scares me. and i fear i never will and will be lonely.
i saw a post earlier about “aromatic” people- people who physically cannot experience romance. and i think thats me
i lost my virginity to someone i barely knew and ever talked to him again.
the sad thing was that i didn’t care at all. i was relieved and happy it happened.
thats scary. and reckless. and i fear its going to be me the rest of my life.
too fearful to be vulnerable and thats so sososso scary.
And maybe I’m not scared. maybe its just that I’m “aromatic”. but thats almost worse. Because being “aromatic” would mean that its ingrained within my boons- not just on obstacle for me to overcome.
I want to let loose and be a dumb college student but its so hard.
the thought of veering from my scheduled day makes me feel like suffocating. to the point were i was to collapse and pull out my hair.
but i must remain composed because that is what i am supposed to be,
My best friend of years and years has only seen me cry once.
once.
because that is how afraid i am at letting people see me with my guard down.
and that is shameful. i am perceived as a robot and can’t grasp my emotions. spineless. i only strive to keep things light because i’m afraid of being moved emotionally.
i can’t keep living like this. this free time of spring break has made the reality come crashing over me and i can’t face it. i feel out of control. i just keep eating and eating and fucking wandering aimlessly to keep my mind off of it. its moving 10000 miles an hour.
i don’t even know what i feel because i am so out of touch with emotions. I’m just numb. and thats why i had to write this here.

i’m okay. and i’m starting to understand that it’s not that surprising.
“there is nothing which is permanent that is violent”
let the thunder pound and the lightning rip the sky into pieces. i will still be okay.

I stand tall behind you and rest my head on top of yours and my eyes swell up like they always do, you’re wearing a big coat that reminds me of something a teddy bear in a children’s book would wear, under that you are wearing a blue dress with a collar and black tights and little black boot shoes, I don’t know what they’re called, you have blush on but it’s dark outside so I can’t see it but I saw the blush brush changed positions on your desk so I know you just used it, it’s freezing outside and your hands are cold and small but not tiny, I wrap my bony fingers around them, I smell like cigarettes, I smell dirty but that’s something that you like, you lean your head on my shoulder, it still feels new and I still can’t believe it, we walk together, I know why you cried last night and I love you

last night/this morning i had a dream that i had died somehow, and i was in this classroom and i could use chalk to write on it even though i was still dead, and emily was in the classroom and she could see what i wrote on the board but she couldn’t see me, so i tried to have a conversation with her via the chalk board. we both knew i was dead and this was the only way we could communicate. i wrote “i’m so lonely” and she wrote “so am i”

neurowall:

Here is a link to my topsurgery/HRT fundraiser that Carolina set up for me.  I’m very uncomfortable with just taking peoples’ money, so if you decide to donate then you get handmade goodies made by my friends and me!

http://www.gofundme.com/7g0j3s

We know this blog isn’t for fundraiser stuff like this and were sure you’re tired of it from Mia’s zine, but if you could donate a couple bucks to this it would be wonderful!

(via writingisstupid)

someone i used to love knows my deepest secret
i know hers too
sometimes i think the only thing keeping us from showing each others’ worst parts to anyone who will listen is the knowledge that retaliation would be possible (and likely), but other times i think we’re both decent enough to rise above that

it’s been years since we’ve spoken and that feels alright

it feels very strange to feel alright about it, though

if i could go back in time i’m not sure if i’d change anything
the butterfly effect scares me
the effects of making things better might be cons that outweigh the pros
anyway, i can’t go back in time and dwelling on it isn’t healthy

sometimes i miss the way her bedroom smells

my little sister is starting to get college acceptance letters for next year.
i want to sit her down and have a talk.
but i don’t know what to say other than ”you will never be safe.”

i wanted to say “don’t trust boys you don’t know”
but then i realized you can’t trust the ones you know either

i thought of the men i know
and which ones i’d feel safe with late at night, drunk, walking home from a party or hanging out in their bedroom.
(i could count them on one hand.)

i realized that most of them would try something in those circumstances, even the ones who aren’t dangerous. those circumstances might lead them to believe that i wanted them to try something.

you just never know which ones won’t stop when you say no.

you are so strong for putting up with me the way i was, and though it’s self-deprecating i really mean that

I think the worst kind of heartbreak is one where things end and you really don’t know why. I thought things were going great with us. I thought this was what you wanted. Now you won’t hold a conversation with me. I don’t understand what I did wrong, could you please tell me?

-

you taught me to accept myself the way i am in the worst way possible. instead of telling me that i was beautiful and worth something, you did the opposite. you were always telling me that i looked ugly in that shirt, or my hair was a mess, or my skin was terrible, or i was getting too fat. you told me this constantly for years. what kind of mother does that? for years i avoided mirrors. i wore plain, baggy clothing. all this happened as your constant critiquing went on. you forced me to get shitty haircuts. what did i know? i was 9 years old. you were overbearing and i was totally helpless and you wondered why i didn’t have friends??????? you wondered why i ran away from opportunities that YOU wanted, not ones that i wanted. everything i did was totally wrong and your screaming still comes to mind from time to time.

i don’t know how i stayed sane. maybe God listened to me, begging that you would stop and i would just get some peace. maybe He heard me cry when i heard you and other relatives talking about how i was never going to be beautiful. to this day you don’t know how much that hurt. words really do hurt more than actions. you never apologized for anything. you still don’t know. 

ten very rough years passed. i met music and fell deeply in love. i had met some pretty cool friends. they gave me hope. they accepted me. i never stayed home so i could avoid you. this was years after horrible acne, many nights of crying myself to sleep and feeling completely worthless. never good enough. 

one day i gathered the courage to look into a mirror and i realized hey you know what, you were wrong. you were nitpicking my entire being, really. you said i was too fat. i’m a size six. no i’m not, i thought, i’m just fucking right!!!! you said my hair was ugly. i love my curls. my skin got a lot better when i learned what products to use and all that. see, many girls have their mums to tell them all about it. my mum told me nothing except i was worthless so i decided i was going to learn everything by myself. and i did. and i learned that i am FUCKING BEAUTIFUL. yeah i said it. i gave myself a makeover, both inside and outside. i finally felt like i was doing something with my life. obviously there were rough days where i would revert to my old sad state. but that’s life. you gotta keep going even when everything REALLY sucks.

so thanks mum. you picked the worst way to teach me but hey i learned; boy did i learn. i learned that if i ever have a child ( to this day i don’t know if i ever would), i will tell her hey, if this looks helpful, you can use this product, and i will tell her she is beautiful and she will and SHOULD do great things for the world. i will tell her that i’m here if she needs me, and i’m not going to control her life because iT’S HER LIFE, NOT MINE. i will tell her that physical beauty is nothing compared to inner beauty, which is brought about by peace. inner peace. something i didn’t have for a very long time. i will tell her never to run from opportunities that she can take to better everything around her. really, it’s cliche but what’s inside her head and heart will be much more important than what is on her face/body. thanks, mum. i have learned to love you more through all of this.