blackfatfemmewrites-blog

[blackfatfemmewrites-blog]

Pre-lunchtime Rant

Last night concluded well. L and I were both feeling the barometric pressure in our respective stress spots. They challenged me to stretches I haven't done since I graduated from high school. I got a shea butter massage, took my meds, and fell right tf to sleep. 

CW: How I met my rapist

Apparently, my subconscious was fixated on processing how I first met my rapist. However layers work in dreams, I was rolling my eyes and talking shit about such a fuckass situation. Like. Having someone text "I wanted to take you right there in the bathroom." as a FIRST TEXT, fam. Mind you, the bathroom might as well have been a goddamn matchbox. So the idea of being "taken" wasn't comfortable or sexy.

But I played coy and cute because I wasn't supposed to reject such bullshit advances.

 I wanted to date his friend. She was brown like me, and she flirted better than he did. Catholic guilt won out and I settled for a dry, forceful piece of shit.

That's what I did with my freshman year of college. I signed my life away for the tiiiiiiiiiniest bit of independence after being isolated, and all I got was anxiety comorbid depression.

 Thaaaaaaaanks, an avocado.

[blackfatfemmewrites-blog]

Do you like sarcasm? Are you delving into the hilarious world of depression? That's great.

I create short stories, poems, infographics, and whatever the hell I feel like because the world is my oyster and I'm allergic to seafood.

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