bleeditoutx

[bleeditoutx]

On Discomfort and Morality

My father finds gay men uncomfortable.

He's told me before that it's like a knee-jerk for him. Something he doesn't consciously control. He sees two men behaving romantically, and his body reacts with mild discomfort.

In the 1960s, when he was in high school, most of the boys in his form thought he was gay on the simple fact that he wasn't homophobic. He wouldn't participate in insulting queer people, he didn't care if someone was gay, he wouldn't have a problem hanging out with gay people. So people thought he was gay. That's how prevalent homophobia was in his formative years.

When I was 10, my dad told me very seriously that Holmes and Watson were gay. That it was obvious from the literature and the time period that they were meant to be a gay couple. When I was 14 and I came out to my parents as bi, when my mum was upset my dad ripped into her for it. Told her that she was being stupid, that it was my life to live how I wanted to and that she needed to get over herself.

My dad formed my views on censorship: that being that it was completely ridiculous and thoroughly evil. He didn't believe in censorship of any kind. If I asked him a question about sex, he answered it honestly. When I was 12 and I asked him about homosexuality, still young and uncertain, he told me that there was nothing wrong with it. That it was just how some people were. That there was likely an evolutionary reason for it. And that for some people it was uncomfortable on an instinctual level.

He taught me that just because you're uncomfortable with something, doesn't make it wrong. He also taught me that most people don't understand this.

I see a lot of this on the internet as of the last few years. The anti shipping movement, the terf movement, the anti ace movement. It all stems from discomfort that people have crossed wires into believing means wrong. Really every -ism and -phobia out there stems from this same fundamental aspect of humanity.

The next time you see something and you automatically think it's disgusting, or wrong, or immoral, I invite you to ask yourself: is this actually wrong or does this just make me uncomfortable?

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I've said it before and I'm saying it again:

We need to kill bigots if we want to establish a peaceful order. All bigotry should be punishable by death. It's a disease, it's festering, it's time to cut the rot out by any means necessary.

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You don't get to claim that I was guilt tripping you.

YOU ghosted ME. For NO fucking reason.

I thought you were my friend. I was supportive of everything you were going through. I offered you an ear for your woes. A shoulder for you to lean on. We laughed about dumb shit together. We plotted ships and storylines together.

Three fucking years, and it's all down the drain, and you can't even be adult enough to tell me why? You ghosted me, and then had to audacity to vague about how I was guilt tripping you when I simply asked if I had done anything wrong, if there was anything that needed to be fixed? When our last OOC interaction was literally so chill and fine?

This is why I hate people. This is why I can't stand putting myself out there. Three years of friendship, and it's just gone, and you're too pussy to man up and talk to me about it. Which triggered my RSD so bad that I almost hurt myself, again.

You want me to be mean? Fine. I hope your family rots. I hope you never have a love life. I hope your friends drop you without explanation the way you did to me. I hope you suffer for the rest of your life. I hope you never have your medication ever again. I hope you die.

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"Life is short and cruel When race is made a god"

-observations of life

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Dear Neurotypical People,

I hate you.

I hate you so fucking much.

You are hostile towards neurodivergent people for no fucking reason. You punish us for not conforming to your stupid social rules. You have killed us before and many of you would like to keep killing us, simply because our brains don’t work the way you think it should. You created a world where we are treated as inferior and you do next to nothing to fix things.

I hate you. I really, sincerely hate you.

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Here's to everyone spending the holidays alone. It's a shitty time of year, but we'll get through it, just like we've done in the years past.

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Seeing a post that recommends being kind to those who are being mean simply because kindness goes a long way and "you don't know what the other person may be dealing with" and kindly, from someone who works with customers, as well as someone who's been blocked by people who I thought were my friends, no.

Some people are cruel for the sake of being cruel. No amount of kindness will get them to stop being cruel. People like that need to be shunned. I'm tired of people preaching to me that I "shouldn't take it personally" when I'm the one being cursed at for following the rules at work, or having people snap at me for simply checking up on them. I'm tired of always being the punching bag.

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My throat is bloody and raw From screaming for comfort From those who turned their backs on me instead And I still don't understand Why

--thoughts

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"I think what I miss most is the period of time in my life when I felt loved."

-Thoughts on Childhood

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I miss when I was a little kid, Because at least when I was little I knew you still loved me

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I miss being three years old.

I miss having the comfort of sleeping in, swaddled in a thick comforter, hearing the activities of people beyond my bedroom door starting their days.

I miss having the man who used to call himself my father pick me up and give me a hug and a kiss, his mustache scratching my cheek, smelling his cologne. I miss him asking me what I dreamed about, what I wanna do today.

I miss having my mother’s love as she kisses my head and gives me breakfast. I miss knowing that she’ll be happy with the day, happy to spend time with me, happy that things are okay for the time being.

I miss having my sister by my side, ready to play unless she has school to go to. I miss having her show me new books she got from friends, or a new paper made fortune teller so we can ask it silly questions and squeal over the answers.

I miss playing in the backyard with my dog, chasing him around as he runs along the fence line so fast he looks like he’s tilting on two legs. I miss playing fetch, or tug of war, and giving him kisses, feeling his warm furry body wriggling against my as he kisses my face in return.

I miss being allowed to play and be messy. I miss being able to sit and watch the same Disney movies on repeat because it made me happy. I miss being able to create stories with my original Polly Pockets or my Barbie Dolls, having “parties” with my stuffed animals, lining rocks up in a line in order of how big or shiny they were and counting them. I miss jumping rope in the backyard, I miss the carefree hours until I was allowed to take a well deserved nap.

I miss when I was three years old, and my family was whole and unbroken. I miss being three years old, and I didn’t carry trauma that weighed me down to the ground. I miss when I was three years old, and my future looked bright, and I wasn’t strange or annoying or needy, or autistic or ADHD. I was just a kid, a bright imaginative kid who wanted to see the world and make friends and have the security in knowing my family loved me.

I miss being three years old.

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What kind of audacity does someone have to have to come onto a video expression the after effects and grief that cling to the people who lost someone to suicide, and then imply that if someone kills themselves, then their loved ones would be okay, and then get holier than thou when the uploader confronts them on their tone deaf comment?

I lost my biological mother to a purposeful drug overdose when I was just shy of turning eight years old. To this day, twenty years later, I am still affected by her decision to take her own life, and how much pain it still causes me. That even now, out of nowhere, I’ll think of her, and I’ll be reverted back to that horrible day of her funeral, asking people why she always broke her promises. And someone literally commented such a horrible thing on my video, completely ignoring what they just watched, because it “resonated with them”.

I don’t care if you “resonated” with me trying to share my grief and share a link to other children of addicts who lost their family members to similar causes of death. You don’t ever come and pretend like the grief I still have over losing someone so important to me means nothing. “Oh the impact won’t affect them much, they’ll be okay”, I assure you they won’t be. If you kill yourself, the people who genuinely love you will be reeling and be sent down a rabbit hole of mental health issues that lasts their entire lives. 

I was a child, and I wanted my mother, and I don’t have her because of her actions. It impacted me severely. Don’t pretend like suicide doesn’t impact the people who matter the most, because it fucking does.

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No one fucking understands how rejection sensitive dysphoria feels, because I think if they did, they would be less willing to trigger it when people are innocently minding their own business thinking their friendships are okay.

Do you know what it’s like, feeling like your heart’s being ripped out your chest when you go to message a friend, only to find out you’re blocked? Do you have any idea what it’s like, being suddenly unable to breathe as panic rushes through you, as you try to contact the other people to ask if everything’s okay, what might have happened, what you need to fix, only to never get a response? Do you know what it’s like to go to mutual friends to ask for advice, only to be told harshly that you’re “too needy”, or to have that mutual friend block you too?

And on top of all of that, you don’t know what you did wrong. You really don’t. No one came to you beforehand about anything you must have said or did that made them upset. No one gave you that chance to apologize and try to fix whatever went wrong. 

No, they would rather abandon you, knowing that they’ll be triggering this feeling inside of you, and you’re left to sink to the floor in hysterical tears, your mental health spiraling downwards so fast that you wish you were dead. Your whole body hurts, like it’s been trampled, and you can’t stop crying until your head is pounding, and you can’t breathe, and still you don’t know what you did wrong! 

And then the paranoia sets in, wondering who’s next, wishing you knew what to do to prevent this from happening again, desperate to bend over backwards to make sure the people you see as friends won’t abandon you next.

How am I supposed to fix what went wrong if no one is willing to communicate?

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Remember when you were just a child And you thought life was going to be okay? I'm sorry my dear, but they lied to you. I'm sorry it turned out this way.

poetry in the dark

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The holidays are the worst, because I feel how truly alone I am. My family hates me, I have no friends that live close by, I’m basically a hermit. And it’s so lonely. So fucking painfully lonely.

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Adoptees of abusive adopted parents, raise your hands if you feel like your parents regret adopting you. ‘Cause both of mine are way in the air

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I want this pain to end