Call me sweet cheeks.

I recently just got my cheeks pierced, I love them! Yes, maybe I have a little obsession with body “mutilation” but the pain is so, how do I even say this?

So. perfect.

Feeling that cold metal push through my skin, the pressure, the burning. It relaxes my body. It’s a small rush of endorphins that makes my body shake.

And they look AH-MAZE-IN.

One side is slighting infected though, but I won’t be taking them out, not unless there is puss, rather than lymph.

Fun fact – taking a piercing out in the early stages of infection can actually trap the infection in!

Maybe I should be a piercer rather than a vet nurse? Some days I think I could hurt people. Some days, I don’t think I could. It must take a lot to be about to push metal through someone else’s skin.
I highly doubt I could.

My psychologist once tried to tell me that piercings and tattoos are a self harm tactic. I think she needs to re-think her career. I don’t get a piercing to hurt myself, despite liking the pain.

In all honesty. I do it because I want to do something, it’s an impulse thing. I want some change. I want something different. I want to express my manic episodes. I want to splurge.

I don’t think there is a problem with someone who enjoys getting a piercing or a tattoo.

It’s so human to judge.

Standard

Rape.

dealing with rape.

There is no set guideline of dealing with sexual abuse or being raped.

It often takes years of mistakes, pain and allowing yourself to be in situations that will only further hurt you to realise that you will never get over it.

It’s only when you decide to let it stop controlling you, do you reach a state of where you are most comfortable with yourself again. Maybe then, the dreams will stop, you’ll be able to deal with sexual activity, maybe you’ll even start to understand yourself and love yourself again.

Or maybe you won’t, maybe you’ll just glide through life, rather than comfortable, but comfortably numb.

I’ve found that the only way I achieved comfortably numb was when I accepted it. When I was okay enough to say that I, was raped

you have to be strong

Bullshit, you do not have to be strong, be weak if you want, cry if you need. Hate the world, hate yourself. It’s how you heal. It’s how you learn to cope, to deal, to overcome being raped.

I stopped believing it was something I could get over and started realising it was a part of my life, there’s nothing I could do to change that, no matter how many bottles I drank, how many pills I took, how many scars I left, nothing makes it go away, but you.

You lost control, you need to take it back. Stop fighting it, stop fighting yourself.

Out of everything in my useless, pathetic life, my rape, is the only thing, that doesn’t hurt me; anymore.

Standard