taldaria

[taldaria]

Helene Cixous, Love of the Wolf 

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sorry i’m late, professor. i’m disenchanted with the human experience and waking up every morning thrusts me into an instant existential crisis

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heart—why so easily exhausted? oof. can’t hide my sad kid eyes from anyone these days. good thing or bad thing who knows just can’t hide a single thing i’m like a bowl of sloshy milk. 

[taldaria]

My shell might be tough to crack, but once let in, my heart is fierce. I care intensely, love deeply, give unconditionally when a bond is formed. 

And recently my guard has been at its utmost peak. Someone who I held close to my heart betrayed me with cruelty I’d never imagined to experience. Those tender wounds are still healing, forming scars as they mend. 

I opened the door for you just a few weeks ago. Albeit a small crack, yet it took a lot of courage nonetheless. Cautiously, I watched you walk in--analyzing every step, making sure I was safe. You were different from anyone I’ve met before. You radiated strength and confidence, but also authenticity, qualities I’ve been craving for so long. I convinced myself to give you a chance despite your baggage and your rough exterior. ‘Who am I to judge?’ I thought, ‘I have skeletons in the closet, too.’ I saw the good in you and I felt ready to try again. 

But when I saw what I saw I completely snapped. 

Those feelings of betrayal, perceived deception, and worthlessness all came rushing back like a wave of thorns. Emotions that entrenched my being for over 2 years, that I’ve worked so hard to shed and keep away. Despite my deep-seated belief in universal kindness, empathy, careful actions, and giving others the benefit of the doubt, it hit me at just the right spot, tearing open those gashes, triggering the worst of my trauma. Imagine--after just a few days, after all the nice things you said, to be trampled and spit on like an idiot. That’s exactly what it felt like, and I couldn’t help myself. Considering what I’ve been through, don’t you dare pretend you wouldn’t have reacted the same way.

And that’s why when you called me clingy for my reaction it hurt even more. Because my reaction was far from being even a little bit clingy, not even at all. Instinctually, I wanted to kick you to the curb, slam the door shut, and create so much distance between us that as far as I was concerned, you did not exist. What actually happened was more reserved than that, as my mind played tug-of-war deciding what to do or say.

But to twist it around like you did to make you seem like the almighty desirable one, and me, the desperate little bitch was such a slap to the face. Now, I understand that you simply contorted the truth to create a reality your precious ego is more comfortable living in. But at the time, my vision was too clouded by unprecedented pain to realize what it meant. 

At least I can say that I dodged a bullet, but it was at the expense of finally beginning to trust my judgement again.

[taldaria]

the human lifespan is so fleeting we should all tell each other when something feels worth doing or saying we should be more open to the price of rejection and failure at the possibility of honesty and growth I want to be someone who can tell my hometown heroes I love and need them and tell my friends they are being unfair or hurtful when they need to hear it not just another person compromising to do what’s easiest and most agreeable

[taldaria]

I am trash

//don’t repost please / /

[taldaria]

Late night ramblings.

I’ve been pretty irritable over the past few weeks, I don’t know what it is... Except I do kind of know what is is, or rather what they are, there are a number of things all jumbled in my head, each tugging my mind in a direction of its own, not giving me a minute to rest, breathe, calm down. 

The 45th president of the United States, Donald fucking Trump. Wow. I get so emotional just thinking that this is actually happening. People say that we can rest easy knowing that Hillary won the popular vote by almost 3 million... that only a fraction of the nation turned out on election day anyways... BLAH BLAH BLAH just stop. I don’t care about any of those things. What I care about is that 62,979,879 people did vote for that greedy, racist, rapist pig. 

I’ve been struggling to express why I’m so depressed about his election, and it’s been really difficult because there are just so many things that upset/infuriate me about him: his racism/prejudice/ignorance towards African Americans, Muslims, Arabs, and Latinos; his belief in eugenics; his all-around sexism and misogyny; the allegations made against him of sexual misconduct; “grab them by the pussy”...I could probably go on for days. All of these things make me want to scream and pull my hair out, but he doesn’t really bring anything new to the table in that regard. 

I’ve never felt personally betrayed by an election until now. (I realize the privilege implied when I say that.) I can trace my life history with feminism and admit that I started in a place of almost complete ignorance. It took some observation, life experiences, and introspection to realize I was wrong. Learning about inequality in the textbooks doesn’t do nearly as much as seeing it and feeling it with your own existence. It’s an unfortunate truth. 

Being raped was the first major blow. It was a textbook-worthy example in every way: I was blamed, ostracized, had my character torn to pieces, had my medical records excavated and examined, with a cherry on top. I fought like hell for justice. I spent months actively participating in the investigation and months waiting for crime lab results with unbearable anxiety. I spent nearly two years thinking about it every damn day. I was so emotionally invested in those investigations that it consumed me, starved me of my wellbeing and my capacity to believe I could live a normal life again. And then with time the detective became less and less responsive, my rape kit was put on a backlog... slowly my case file began collecting dust. At that point I was just so exhausted of exerting every inch of my being into a massive brick to barely make a dent. I gave up hope in the criminal justice system. At first it was absolutely devastating. This case was my life for two years. It gave me pain, but it also gave me anger and fuel to continue living instead of wilting away in bed. I wanted to be believed and I wanted justice more than anything. I wanted him to know that he can’t abuse my trust as a friend and slip away unnoticed. I wanted him to know that he can’t violate me and expect to get away without a fight to the bone. I wanted there to be a message to all men who abuse women that their behaviour will not be tolerated, that we will speak up, that we will fight back like hell. After the devastation settled, a quiet, softly throbbing disappointment took its place. I came to a sad acceptance of the situation... for now. I told myself that I would never forget how important this is to me. I promised myself that someday I would see it through. In the midst of my anger, fatigue, and depression, I realized that I don’t want to spend the rest of my life this way--in a limbo of pain and desperation, and that while this is something I deeply care about, this negative state wasn’t doing me any service. I wanted to find a way to move on and be happy. And that’s where I am right now, stumbling along the road towards healing and contentment.

But this election shattered my perception of our society beyond what I’d thought possible. It hurts to think that even when I thought I’d lifted the veil to see the true vision, I still found myself gazing at a facade. My relentless drive to battle my rapist during those two years stemmed from the belief that our society understands that sexual violence is a horrible crime. During my intake I was told that my rapist faced multiple felony charges, in addition to being required to register as a sex offender, and quite possibly prison time. I knew that we are by no means perfect. I knew that there’s significant progress to be made in society regarding women’s equality, but I felt that when it came to the issue of agency and respect over our own bodies, there was a general consensus that these are fundamental human rights. I read on as the supposedly “respectful”, “sweetheart”, “good kid” Stanford boy was given an absurdly light sentence, and the public backlash that ensued. And then I watched in horror as a sleazy orange man who made no attempt whatsoever to hide or apologize for his demeaning comments was backed my so many enthusiastic Americans. When multiple women came forward with their stories, his supporters didn’t empathize with their fear of retaliation from a famous billionaire. And they kept supporting him when the Access Hollywood tape was released and it became apparent that even he himself admitted to committing such atrocious behaviour. 

It feels like a stab straight to the heart. And although it’s more likely than not that few of his supporters would outright declare that women are inferior to men in terms of human rights, that’s essentially the message that’s being broadcasted (among other equally important things). Apparently, women are just as valuable as lab rats. Pinch us, prod us, poison us, and then toss us aside before you go to claim your Nobel Prize for a job well done; no matter that we’re bleeding, scarred, traumatized, in pain, never to live life the same way again. Toss aside what you thought about the US being a modern, respectful country. While we sit on our high horse and scorn the Middle East (and others) for their treatment of women, the fact is that in American society itself a woman’s worth is so inferior that men can commit the worst of crimes against us and still be chosen by millions of people to hold the most respected position in our country. I don’t know how to come to terms with this reality. How did we become such broken creatures? 

[taldaria]

[taldaria]

a lil (crudely) animated photostudy. original photo by ali!

[taldaria]

It must have been the alcohol. Blomkvist had a way of popping up in her thoughts, as old flames do, when she was drunk, and without quite realizing what she was doing she hacked into his computer. She still had a shortcut into his system – it was not the N.S.A., after all – and at first she wondered what she was doing there. Could she care less about him? He was history, just an attractive idiot she had once happened to fall in love with, and she was not going to make that mistake again.

David Lagercrantz (The Girl in the Spider's Web)

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The Cove

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Last week he told me that he only listens to about 30% of what I say and that he’s just using me, and today I’m crying because he sent me a string of snaps last night of him hooking up with another girl. 

1. Why the fuck do I have feelings for this piece of shit 2. Why do I feel so worthless 3. I AM NOT A PIECE OF KLEENEX. YOU CAN’T JUST USE ME TO JACK OFF WHEN YOU FEEL LIKE IT AND THEN THROW ME AWAY. FUCK YOU. HOW DO YOU SLEEP AT NIGHT. DO YOU KNOW YOU’RE A SHITTY PERSON?? PROBABLY NOT. 

[taldaria]

Sometimes I think sex is the only thing I’m good for. I’m so dull and awkward and shy and tense and clumsy and ugh. It’s hard to meet people who like me for my personality and not just my ass.

At least I’ve got that going for me though, I guess. My ass is pretty gr8.