Presenting a Situation for Something I am Working on, Please Give Your Honest Opinions.

Hello all. I know I have not posted since January, and I apologize for the delay in posts. I plan on getting back to stories, plays, and vents as often as possible now that many ideas are finally flowing through my head once again and now that I am finding inspiration again. Early 2017 was certainly a rough few months for me and depression was keeping me from being able to focus my mind on one set project. I am, however, back finally and planning on releasing a few things this summer. In fact, I have an announcement to make in an upcoming blog that is set to be published tomorrow or Thursday.

I know this is a weird first post to make considering I have been inactive for about six months now, but I am working on something that requires me to ask these questions and I want to get as many answers as possible. I posted this following message on my Facebook and Facebook page, and figured this blog would also be a good place to gather opinions as well:

I am currently in the process of working on something for something, and I currently am seeking some opinions on the situation presented in what I am working on. I usually never do this, but I really do kinda need as many opinions as possible. I will not be publishing out any names for said thing I am working on, nor will I be ridiculing anyone for their opinion. I would appreciate if likewise, no one would judge anyone else for their opinion either. I know that is near impossible for anyone to do so on the internet as anything that warrants an opinion on the internet and that can create controversy causes an uproar, but I am doing this solely for research purposes. What for you say? You’ll find out in the future. For now, please, I am asking for people to give their opinions on my following questions about the situation I am about to present. I will be recording these answers but will not attach any names to it, so answer as honestly as you want. I will not judge. If you prefer messaging me personally, then you can do so as well. Thank you all for reading and participating. Feel free to share my post as well on here. I will take as many responses as I can get. ūüôā If you are not interested in this, I will not force you to respond.
Trigger Warning for sexual assault. I don’t wanna make anyone uncomfortable so if anything involving sexual assault of any kind triggers you, do not read any further.
Keep in mind, the scenario is NOT based on me or anyone I know personally.
Situation:
A person in their mid-twenties is at a party with their friends. They are a bit drunk, but can still function for the most part. As they stumble around the party, they wind up getting suckered into being alone in a room with another stranger. The person winds up, against their will, raping them. The person being raped is visibly not consenting in any type of way, but the other person keeps going anyway. Once the person raping them is done, they leave behind their victim who is still processing what just happened and sobbing uncontrollably unsure of what to do because they are positive no one will believe them.
So now you wonder, okay, Lisa, where are you going with this? Well two questions now arise from this situation I presented. Like I said, answer them as honestly as possible. Please answer number 1 before even reading number 2.
1) So now whether or not you noticed, I did not disclose any genders in this scenario. So without giving second thought, as you read the scenario, what gender would you assume the victim is? Don’t give it a second thought, just answer honestly what gender you envisioned the victim as. Now tell me, without a second thought, what gender do you envision the rapist as? Again, no second thoughts right now, just tell me what gender you saw the rapist as. If possible, can you explain why you see the victim and rapists as these genders?
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2) Now that you have thought about number 1, I want you to take something into consideration. Generally, many would think the victim is a female and the rapist a male. If that is what you answered, it is okay. That is the case usually and like I said there is no right or wrong answers right now. Let’s say though, that the victim was a cisgender male and the rapist was a cisgender female? Say they were both in their early 20’s, the victim was not asexual, gay, or bisexual. He just was not into the girl who raped him, in fact he only ended up alone with her because he was trying to help her because she appeared piss drunk and he feared she would be taken advantage of in her state so he just wanted to be by her side, but he was not attracted to her at all just trying to do a good deed. Then, as it turns out, she was not wasted and it was a trap and she took advantage despite him not wanting to sleep with her? Without a second thought, what did you think as soon as the situation turned to be with a straight young male victim and a young female rapist? You can answer this in any way. You can also add whether or not it could be deemed as rape. Again this is all YOUR opinion and I am leaving my own thoughts on this matter out.
Thank you all for your time and responses again~

For My Special Someone

Who knew that something special could blossom out of a short encounter with someone who I thought did not even notice my existence?

The months leading up to when I met him were undoubtedly the worst months of my life by far. I fell into the deepest pits of depression and despair to a point where I believed there was no chance of climbing back to the top. My whole life was falling apart at the seams; between ¬†being surrounded by loss and overwhelmed with loneliness, I could not imagine how “it would all get better in time.” Just as I near gave up at any chance of happiness, he somehow found his way into my life. He was the ray of light in the darkness my life was in early 2016.

Oh sure, a guy coming along being the thing that filled the empty void I kept feeling in my life seems trite, yet it was indeed him that pulled me out of that slump. From the moment I met him at the first social event I went to after months of isolating myself from the world, I could tell he was something special. I do not believe in love at first sight, but I do believe that when we met, just by hearing him talk and by the way he approached other people, I knew there was something delightfully unique about him. I could tell he was a beautiful person, inside and out.

Despite the vibes I got from him, I never imagined it was my life that would be affected by him. When we met, we hardly spoke and I assumed it would be the last I ever saw of him. I was used to crossing paths with attractive men and never heard from them again. This one, however, I knew was worth pursuing out that bunch. He was genuinely a sweetheart by the way he talked to his friends and the way he hugged me when I left despite the fact that we barely spoke to each other at all. I did not remember his name, nor did I want to be that creep that asked my friends who he was. Somehow, by chance, I found him and added him on Facebook, and that is where it all began.

What has ensued after that day in June was the best months of my life so far. A month of getting to know each other, and six months of loving (liking at first) and laughing until my cheeks hurt.

In July, I had a crush on him that I refused to let out despite being unable to stop thinking about how he was so protective over me despite barely knowing me and how adorable his laugh was when we first spent a few minutes together as he walked me home from work. Then, when I was sure the crush was unrequited despite the fact that he was displaying conspicuous signs of interest, he kissed me and thus changing everything between us. At first, I was skeptical to let him in as I was used and emotionally abused by every guy I had ever been involved with, but he was easily able to prove otherwise.

Once I let him in, he proved that I had made the right decision. As opposed to being some girl he wanted to fuck around with until something else came along, he began to show me off to his friends as his girl and keep me around as much as possible. It almost seemed too good to be true; a guy I liked had been proud to be called mine and genuinely enjoyed my presence. He would do anything to make sure I was safe as well by doing things such as walking me home and running to my side the moment danger arose. Despite his sense of humor, he managed to stay tactful around me for my own sake, something that no one had even cared to do for me.

What really tugged my heart strings was watching the smile across his face whenever I planted a kiss on his cheek, and whenever he talked about how happy I made him. Never in my life had I felt so special; I had the ability to make someone else actually feel happy!

It was by October, I realized I enjoyed even the littlest things about him. How focused he is on something once he starts it, the way he is able to make one of the biggest downers in the world go to bed smiling, the way he lights up the room the moment he enters it, the way he is so passionate about skateboarding, the way he respects his own family, the size of his heart, and how his smile warmed my heart. At first, I was fearsome of it happening, but I finally accepted that I was indeed in love with him.

And on birthday, he came out with it too. He loved me. I was loved by him. I did not have to question it, because he has proved it every single day since then. He is always by my side and willingly going out and doing things for me whenever I need something. He has emotionally supported me through the worst of my panic attacks and events in my life. He has been one of my few motivations when I ponder if I should keep going with life. Whenever we argue, we always find a way to pull out of it in a mature way. He has proven to me that he has eyes for me and only me, so fear of him being disloyal is never an issue for me. I could list every thing he has done for me, but I could go for paragraphs.

He is everything I have been looking for for years. He is what has been my rock through all the crap life has thrown at me, and he is the reason why I view myself in a bit more of a positive light. I could not imagine my life if I had never met him.

For that reason, I promised myself to protect him and be by his side through through it all. I want to be there to emotionally support him and help him see himself through my eyes. I want to be by his side no matter what happens and help him get through the toughest of times. I want him to know just how precious he is to me, and how he is loved by everyone even if he can’t see it.

I love you baby, happy half-anniversary.

My Thoughts Day 1: My Anxiety is Slowly Killing Me

What is anxiety?

Anxiety is not just simply the feeling of being anxious, nor is it just the feeling you get when you have a math test later on, or when you are about to speak in front of a group of people. Anxiety is a mental illness, much like depression. It is a disorder in which you excessively feel uneasy and worry over current and future events. When you have anxiety disorder, your typical response to most conflicts is to overthink obsessively and worry yourself sick. When everything becomes overwhelming, it can result in a panic attack, or in some cases something close to a panic attack. What makes anxiety disorder distinctive from that feeling of being anxious is both the response to it, and the fact that when you have anxiety disorder you obsess over whatever you are worried about, whether it is a big conflict or something trivial.

Another difference? You cannot control anxiety disorder. No matter how much you want to, or how much you try to control your thoughts, you just can’t. It’s like telling someone with bipolar disorder to control their mood swings, or telling someone with ADHD to learn to control themselves; it’s just not possible.

Some people do, however, disagree with this. They will say that anxiety is not a disorder, but rather people upsetting themselves over little things. Everyone has problems, but are able to get over it. People who claim to have anxiety disorder are just people crying for attention because they don’t know how to handle their problems.

I have an example from the past of dealing with people with this ignorant mindset:

Early August 2015. Warm summer day. Canal Street, NYC

I am with my ex-boyfriend and his mom, giving their friends a tour of Manhattan. We have been walking around with no break all day. We went from walking the Coney Island boardwalk, to the Staten Island Ferry and back, to walking from South Ferry to Tribeca. They were hoping to walk Chinatown and Times Square next, but my feet were tired and I had work the next day. They were walking in an extremely fast pace as well so that did not help my aching feet. The sun was also ready to set, and I hated travelling on the subway alone at night. One would think that after keeping me out on my feet all day, my ex would have had the decency to take me home or make sure I get home safe in some way. Oh no, he was going to send me off alone because, despite making me go around Brooklyn and Manhattan with his friends, he decided he couldn’t part ways with them for just a little bit just so that he could ensure I made it home okay. Not to mention that he thought all that travelling and walking we did was not too much, and his mother seemed to agree with this poor treatment toward me.
So here is what I thought:
Wow, my safety is not important to him or his mother.
Are you fucking kidding me?
How do they not see that they are wrong?
I feel like I walked all over New York City. All five boroughs.
He really doesn’t care about me, does he?
He seems more invested in his friends despite me taking time out my day to travel around all day, and visit tourist spots of a city I have lived in all my life with people I don’t even know. While we were on the ferry and at the 9/11 memorial he barely even paid me any mind. What I am doing for him doesn’t mean anything, huh?

These thoughts didn’t just cross my mind just once, nor did they leave when I tried to argue with him and he just wasn’t getting it throughout the day. Neither was his mother. In fact, she was encouraging his behavior toward me on letting me leave alone. I felt so overwhelmed, and all those horrendous thoughts I listed above kept replaying in my head like a broken record. My heartbeat kept increasing rapidly, and I felt like the sun was suddenly beating directly on me. I tried, however, to ignore it.
Then we went from Chambers to Canal street to get to Chinatown. On the way there is where it happened. Where I argued heavily with his mother as my heart felt like it was going to rip out my chest from beating too hard and where I felt like I was drowning in sweat. Still eager to prove my point, I kept on going until he lost his patience with me and threw something then walked away.
Then, the flashbacks played in my head. The flashbacks of growing up witnessing my father do the very same thing when he lost his temper quickly. Him lashing out on my family and I so easily, along with his habit of throwing and breaking things when he lost control, caused me to become frightened whenever someone lashes out on me or starts throwing things around out of anger.
That is exactly what happened. Except I did not just cower away from the scene in fear. I began shaking and tears began falling down my face. He had stormed away, but his mom noticed, and questioned why I was crying. My mind had eventually blanked out, and I only remember the following events in bits and pieces. I remember leanung against a rough brick wall because I could not even figure how to stand up anymore. I remember sobbing so loud I felt everyone around me was staring at me. I remember feeling like I was having a heart attack because the pounding of my heartbeat was so hard it was causing me immense pain. I rememeber it suddenly felt like breathing was too difficult to do and each inhale and exhale became stronger and stronger. There was sweat dripping from my forehead and palms, and the temperature felt like it increased to two hundred degrees. I recall the images of my ex in front of me with his mom and all my other surroundings flipping on and off as I attemped to pay attention to my surroundings like that bullshit Facebook post advises to do to ease out of a panic attack. I remember trying to push out words, but my heavy breathing made it impossible to talk. As I slowly began to come back to my own self, I had to resist the urge to both punch my ex in the face, and to jump in front of traffic in the nearby street.

Saying that I wanted to punch him may sound cruel, but my anxious mindset had automatically turned to inflicting violence on anyone who got even the least bit loud with me. I did not punch him, as I slowly began to regain control again, but who could blame me when he was urging me to answer him, and getting visibly angry with me that I did not when he saw how I was gasping for air?

Even if this was over a year ago, I do recall him saying these words:

“What do you have to be so anxious about? You need to chill.”

I also recall his mom saying this:

“You are too young to be getting upset like that.”

While it upset me, I should not have even been surprised. I kept wondering why someone so close to me that I have been there for could even think something so ignorant and have the nerve to speak so negatively against me for having this right in front of my face. I also wonder why someone who is a grown adult and a mother could honestly believe young people can’t have problems or be allowed to get upset over things. Then I remember that some people are just so closed-minded that they do not understand, or make an attempt to understand, something that does not affect them. It is like when someone tells another person with clinic depression to just get over it and go out more; some people have ignorant beliefs about certain things they don’t know personally about.

When it comes to people who are ignorant about mental illnesses, I keep them at a distance. If they cannot shut up about their ignorant beliefs, I drop them like a boom. As I wrote in a previous post, “Special Snowflakes Versus the World,” everyone is entitled to their own opinion. As long as you do not shove that opinion down my throat, I will respect you whether or not I agree with it. I have had many friends who are closed-minded about my mental illnesses, and while their views on it irk me, I leave them alone about it as long as they do not judge me about it. I also have vowed to myself never to date someone who says nasty things in response to my anxiety again, and is anything but helpful when I imevitably have a panic attack.

I have a lot of supportive friends and a boyfriend who is understanding of anxiety and very patient when it comes to panic attacks. They subsided over the past year, as I started seeing a therapist shortly after that incident with my ex, and I started back on medication last October. The worst panic attacks I had were when I underwent a lot of stress during my last semester of college, and when I was in my uncles car back in February to say goodbye to my grandma when it was time for her to be buried. While I had my medication and methods of coping with anxiety, such as writing and painting, it was still hard sometimes to ignore anxiety. Anxiety may be incurable, and you just have to learn to live with it, but lately it has gotten worse. My last dose of medication is gone, life finds a way to slap me in the face with a load of crap at one time, and my depression has found a way to kick me in the ass in such a way that my interest in anything I was passionate about to help calm my anxiety is gone. The fact that I have been able to keep my attention on this post for so long in one day amazes me.

What is it that I am so anxious about, as my ex had once so delightfully asked? Well, to close this post, I present to you an anxious thought train of mine. This final piece of my post derives from a time where my anxiety takes over, which can either happen due to a certain event, someone seriously upsetting me, or just when I am alone at night trying to sleep and the thoughts find their way in. The following thought train is an example of the last one.

A thought train:

*I am a disgrace. I don’t deserve to be happy, why do I ever think I will be? I want to apply to NYU, but what makes me think I will ever get in? If I don’t then I am a letdown to my family who wants me to better myself for the future but I just can’t do it. I have a great scholarship oppritunity to help get me into NYU but I can’t seem to get anyone to help me with recommendations and the application deadline is Tuesday. Crazy how I always help people and they never help me. But maybe that is the reason why. Maybe I don’t deserve any help. When you help people it should be selfless, and yet here I am expecting people to drop what they are doing to write something for me about how great I am. I am not gonna finish thay application in time. Maybe I did not know about that damn scholarship until yesterday, but maybe I would have if my lazy ass had started looking for scholarships sooner. I am a disappointment to my mom, my sister, and everyone I care about.

I turn 21 in eleven days. 21 and all I have is an Associates’ degree and no clue with what I want to do with myself. My phone battery is at thirty six percent. I want to continue with this post and post it today. I know I said that the purpose of this was to prove the significance of freewriting but I want it to be perfectly written. Who am I kidding though? I am not the best writer, no matter how hard I try. I know I am good, but there are so many good writers out there, so what makes me think that I am so special? I am mediocre compared to most, so I probably won’t make it out there. I don’t want to be famous, but I do want my writing to speak out to some. But how can it when all I do is write rants and personal experiences on this blog once in a blue? I am 20 years old with no plan, no future, and no idea of how I’m gonna pursue what I want to do. My life is a mess. Should I even say more?

Ah yes. I need glasses. I can barely¬†see what I am typing because my reading glasses got crushed in my bag. But I can’t afford new ones. I can, but then I have no money saved. Money seems to be one thing I am anxious about. It shouldn’t be, but it is because I need stuff and because I am one of the worst savers in history. I need so many things. I want to save money for my birthday too…oh what does it matter? No one else seems to care much for it. People want to make requests on what I should do but no one cares to try and help out but me, my boyfriend, and my mom. My sister would probably help if she could. That is beside the point though. The last time anyone even did anything for me was my close friends taking me to a buffet years ago, and a friend of mine that took me out to a chocolate resturant two years ago. Oh wow, look at how ungrateful I am. I complain so much but now that I think about it people do care about my birthday. My best friend came with my family to a resturant last year and got me a giant teddy bear. Here I have the nerve to complain no one cares or tries. Its no wonder I feel selfish; I am very selfish. I do help people, some of which don’t help back, but I have close friends who care. I have a mom thay cares, a sister that cares, a boyfriend that cares, friends that care. I should be happy with that, but Im not. All I ever do is complain to people and then get angry at them for the littlest things, just like my exes said. I would not be surprised if one day, everyone I know and love just left me because I am pathetic in every sense and complain about everything. I know it annoys me, which is why sometimes I want to do whatever I can to make it all go away. No, those kind of thoughts are selfish too. You see Lisa, you are so annoying and selfish. So selfish. Just shut the fuck up already.*

Most of those thoughts may seem ridiculous, and I am sure anyone who cares about me that will read this will want to slap me for thinking such insolence, but that is anxiety and what it does to the brain. It is like my normal self leaves my body and is replaced by some overly obsessive worrier that repeats the same negativity over and over and lists everything wrong with my life, even if nothing is wrong, and causes me to see nothing but negative outcomes in everything. That whole thought train was my anxiety speaking, and what I deal with on a daily basis. I wish it would go away, but it wins every battle and takes over my head too often. It keeps me up at night, it causes me to need reassurance from others constantly that everything is okay and they don’t hate me, and it causes me to have those panic attacks that seem to go on forever when I am too overwhelmed by everything.

Now tell me anxiety disorder is made up and can be easily controlled.

 

 

My Thoughts…(Announcement)

One issue I have noticed when it comes to writers, is that we focus so much in creating something perfect. While editing and revising is indeed necessary, sometimes even in the writing process, so much attention is focused on being perfect that the final product does not come out as great as it could have been. When I write creatively, I do outline, but I also release my thoughts freely and worry about editing and cutting things out or adding things in later. I find that the best thoughts and stories come out when you stop being so anxious about what you are writing from your mind freely and not worrying about perfection every moment you write.
That being said, I will be working on a mini series called “My Thoughts” where I share experiences to prove a point, and to further prove the point I will add a section that is unedited and unrevised, as it just directly will come from my mind. This shall make more sense when the series is released, and it will be released tomorrow, 10/21, through Thursday, 10/27. My first post deals with anxiety, my experiences with having it, and a look into what a thought train is like for someone with an anxiety
For those interested, please look out for a link to the first post on WordPress tomorrow which I will post tomorrow, and to follow the rest of my series and my other blog posts, like my Facebook page, Lisa Speaks Out
For the time being, you can check out my latest post ranting about Donald Trump.

“Grab Her By the Pussy”

Everyone is aware of the horrendous candidate we have running as president, Donald Trump. I am not much into politics, which is why I avoid writing about it at all costs, but it doesn’t take a political genius to know that this election is fucked. As I always say, you know the future of this country is doomed when Hilary Clinton is our best option.

Even if you do not have (or care to have) an understanding of politics like me, ¬†you very well are aware of some of the disgusting things Donald Trump has said. From making fun of a handicapped person, to saying he would want to date his own daughter, it’s a wonder how this man is still even a candidate that people actually want to vote for. I guess it says a lot about how fucked humanity is.

This post is to address something Donald Trump recently did. Something that proves he is a sexist, disrespectful, remorseless piece of shit. As if we did not know this already.

Unless you have been living under a rock, you have probably heard of Donald Trump’s recent audio released in which he was bragging to Billy Bush about a time he attempted to make a move on a married woman despite it being against her wishes.¬†Donald Trump dismissed this conversation as “locker room banter.” Donald Trump swears he has respect for women, and that this conversation took place a long time ago. Let’s take a look at this “locker room banter,” shall we?

“I said I’ll take you out furniture shopping. I took her out furniture. ¬†I moved on her like a bitch, but I couldn’t get there, and she was married.”

“Then all of a sudden I see her now,¬†she’s got the big phony tits and everything.¬†She’s totally changed her look.”¬†

“I better use some tic tacs just in case I start kissing her. You know I am automatically attracted to beautiful-I just start kissing them. It’s like a magnet. Just kiss. I don’t even wait.¬†And when you’re a star they let you do it. You can do anything. Grab her by the pussy….

Jesus Christ. Just a reminder, this man is running for president. The election is next month. With that being said, let me dissect this into a few points:

*Donald Trump was already with his current wife, Melania Trump, when he said all this. When meeting with the soap opera star he and Bush saw when they got off their bus, Trump hugged the star, who was an attractive young woman, and said that Melania was okay with this. Now the hug was a harmless act, as men hug women all the time. Yet speaking of women in such a manner when he is a married man, and talking of wanting to kiss any beautiful woman he sees, is disgusting. There is a fine line between looking and controlling yourself, and looking and wanting to act upon it when you know you are taken.

*Based on Trump’s choice of words, “moved on her like a bitch,” he is implying that he did not come onto her simply by asking her out or showing attraction to her. Oh no, he moved on her like a bitch. With the words,¬†“Like a bitch”¬†one can assume thay Trump had made a move on her intensely. If anyone, and I mean anyone, ever shows a lack of interest to your advances, you leave them alone. You don’t kiss someone unless you have their permission to do so. You do not start to unbutton someone’s clothes or stick your hand down their pants unless you have the permission to do so. You do not have the right to perform any kind of sexual act on someone unless you have the permission to do so. If someone does not give consent when they are in a sober mindset, leave them alone. You should not persist when they have already made up their mind. Who the fuck are you to decided someone is entitled to say yes to you? Pressuring someone when they have already made up their mind is equivalent to a child constantly whining, “I want it!” when their parents said no, hoping a tantrum will change their parent’s mind. Then again, Donald Trump is famous for his child-like tantrums.

*Women. Are. Not. Objects. They have feelings and wants. If that want is not kissing you, then you should respect it. You should not go and kiss someone just because it is what YOU want, and just because YOU think they are attractive. So many men pass attractive women every day that they might want to kiss, but they don’t because you CAN help yourself if you have the right amount of self-control. Not to mention the fact that he said he doesn’t even wait. It’s like a man sees a woman at a party who he thinks is entitled to her, and he doesn’t even get to know her or allow her to determine whether or not she is attracted first. He just kisses her, whether she likes it or not. You know who else uses this kind of logic, rapists. Even if he said kiss, a kiss is still a form of intimacy that you cannot share with someone who does not want it without forcing them or making them feel uncomfortable.

*The defense that this was “locker room talk” is equivalent to those who justify catcalling by claiming that they were “just being friendly.” Imagine if you were married, and some entitled fucktard with a funny-looking wig attempted to make a move on your woman knowing full well that they are married to you. He talked about her tits and gloated about how he moved on her like a bitch even after she not only noted that she was married, but also that she is not interested. There is a difference between talkng with your guys with towels wrapped around your waste as you prepare for your next game about some chick you banged (with consent) that had huge hoo-has, ¬†and bragging about how you flopped yourself on top of that big-breasted girl by force.

*It doesn’t matter how long ago he said it. Donald Trump has proved on more occasions than one that he is a sexist, arrogant pig. There is no doubt he still has this mindset. Remember, this is a man who talks about sleeping with his daughter and belittles Hilary Clinton. Don’t even say that, “well he did apologize.” Apologies don’t fix what you did, actions do. If Trump was not a sexist piece of shit then maybe this audio could be forgiven (of course since what Trump says is similar to that of a rapist, him being forgiven is questionable) but he has not changed. He is not sorry he said what he said; rather that he got caught.

 

*Sure, no one is perfect, but this is a man running for president. The democracy we are promised and the freedom of this country is bullshit, but as a leader of this country, should we really have someone who makes comments that are equivalent of that of a rapist as I have analyzed? Let alone the fact that his constant tantrums prove that he should not be trusted with access to all the nuclear weapons we have. Lord knows another World War III will erupt the moment Donald Trump even steps in that office, and God forbid he does ever get elected to that office. Not to mention that he does say, “when you are a star, you can do anything.” So since he thinks that women are dumb enough to fall for any guy just because he is famous, imagine what he would think of attractive women who he can’t control himself around as president. If he slaps the ass of a young hot thing while in office, and unlike Monica Lewinsky, she is not interested in using an affair with the president to pretend that she is relevant, then he will likely use the excuse that he is the leader of this country. Never mind what she wants; that dumb bitch better bow down to the needs of the star of this country!

I am just about done attempting to talk politics, but I will say that it is a wonder why one would vote for Donald Trump on November 8th. This stunt just further proves he is the sexist, arrogant, bastard we all know and hate. Still, if Trump really wants to win, there is one effective method he could do to win these elections aside from winning the likes of hillbillies down south who fuck their cousins; he could grab them by the pussy!

 

 

Special Snowflakes versus the World

 

Freedom of Speech? Yeah right.

How could you preach freedom of speech when special snowflakes are triggered by every little thing they see nowadays?

What are special snowflakes? They are whiny, attention-seeking little tumblr crybabies that get offended when someone does so much as assume their gender accidentally or mention a topic they are sensitive about in a non-hurtful way.

An example? Last Saturday I posted a status about gender. I said that there are only two genders biologically, male and female. You can only have a penis or a vagina. This is true, as science can prove so with chromosomes.

Before anyone gets triggered, let me explain myself. This is something the special snowflakes who attacked me did not allow me to do. This status derived from an article I read that listed all the “genders” that currently exist on Tumblr. This included THREE HUNDRED different genders. Three hundred. Last I checked, gender is based on what genitalia you have, and if you could only have two types of genitalia, then why are there three hundred different kinds of genders?

I skimmed through the list, but I did not make it through the whole thing. I feared if I did, my IQ would drop. People identify themselves as dog-gendered, cat-gendered, decimal-gendered, and so forth. There are also genders that change depending on your mood, depending on your depression (or the self-diagnosed depression these attention-seeking special snowflakes swear they have) or depending on your period. Any sane human being knows this is ridiculous. If you want to identify as a dog, then by all means do so. Granted, people may look at you funny if you walk around on four legs and lick people, but it’s your life isn’t it? I never knocked anyone for their decision to identify as whatever otherkin they wanted; rather I was stating a FACT that dogs, cats, aliens, whateverelsespecialsnowflakescomeupwith, is NOT a gender. Scientifically, you are either male or female. Even with transgenders, they identify themselves as the male or female. Hermaphodites are both male and female, or either one if they prefer being referred to as one. There is no third gender.

That was the point I was trying to make. If those special snowflakes that commented on my status took a second to understand or ask me what I meant, I would have happily explained. Instead, they did what any social justice warrior (SJW) would do; they jumped to conclusions and got triggered. They got defensive and aggressive, which ironically enough they will cry about if you even do so much as show a bit of aggression toward them. Surely enough, the minute I retaliated, they got defensive.

I was supposed to show them sensitivity. Even though they called me closed-minded, insensitive, and immature, I was wrong for making a status on MY facebook with MY name on it that was clearly not ill-intended or harmful in any way. It would be one thing if I had threatened to murder people, or if I had called them insane and thirsty for attention, but I did not. The status did not insult anyone, and the meaning behind it was what I explained above.

What do I know though? I am just a Cisgendered, priveleged, -mostly- white, straight young woman. That is the logic of these tumblrinas, they can judge you, but you can’t judge or offend them.

Just like how believing there are only two genders makes me “closed-minded.” Never mind that I am not the least bit racist, homophobic, or transphobic. I treat everyone equally and believe no one should be treated differently because of their race, sexual preference, religious beliefs, and so forth. I do not even oppose of transgenders. I believe if a woman believes she is be a man, or a man believes he is a woman, then they can go and be whatever they desire. The point I was arguing was that once you believe you are an animal, that what you are changes with your mood, or that you are a freaking math symbol, you are NOT referring to your gender. Biologically, that it is impossible because anything concerning gender, is male or female. I cannot stress that enough.

If you still don’t believe me, then that is fine. Just as I have the freedom to post about this on MY blog and on MY facebook, you have the freedom to believe what you want to. Just don’t insult people in the process the minute they don’t agree with you. Not everyone will be as nice as I was, not everyone will express their opinion in a way that is not harmful to anyone other than crybabies who come on the internet expecting everyone to care if their feelings are hurt, and not everyone in life will guise their opinion in fear of hurting someone.

I do agree some people take it too far, but there is nothing “dangerous” about posting to a public site about gender just because you don’t agree with it. The only “dangerous” issue in this case is people expecting to make it in the real world with that mindset that everyone will be respectful of your feelings, and that everyone who does not agree with is “closed-minded.” I am sensitive, not as sensitive as these special snowflakes, but I have learned the hard way with how sensitive I am that not everyone cares about your feelings and will be harsh to you just for the hell of it.

To anyone who reacted to my post in a rude way, to anyone who responds to any opinion in a negative way, and to anyone who expects people to care whether or not they are triggered, grow the hell up. Just like you have the freedom to pretend you are alien-gendered and feel raped because a man accidentally touched your hand while handing you your order at Starbucks, people have the freedom to disagree with you in a respectful way and to publicly speak of whatever they want. If this offends you, go cry to your Tumblr blog about it because truthfully, that is your only safe space. No one else gives a shit if you are offended or not. Welcome to reality.

My Lessons Learned: Part 1

INTRO

They say that getting hurt is an essential part of life and to live life with no regrets. They also say that it is always darkest before the dawn. Throughout the twenty-one years of my life I have lived so far, I have learned this to be true the hard way.

PART 1

It all started with that boy with the hazel eyes and the blonde patch of hair in his Mohawk. He was my “high school sweetheart,” my first boyfriend, and the first guy that taught me what happiness was. He stole my first kiss on the two train during the Spring of 2012 and nothing was ever the same for me again. All those years of being that ugly duckling that no guy would even consider giving the time of day quickly changed into having someone who actually wanted to be called mine and made me feel like I was actually worth something. Our first four months together was full of laughter, kisses, and memories that are now distant yet still remain implanted into bits and pieces in the back of my mind. There was also “I love you’s” exchanged, but we were sixteen and naive. What did we know about love?
As quickly as our beautiful relationship blossomed that Spring, it died out once that horrendous Summer ended. Our two-hour long phone conversations every day where we talked about everything and nothing turned into forced five minute conversations that ended in my tears. His sweet, gentle tone turned into a cold, bitter one that left me questioning if he had grown to despise me for some unknown reason. Whenever he was near, I would find myself noticing those hazel eyes of his that were once locked on me began averting elsewhere. Seeing each other every week turned into him making excuses to be away from me for three weeks until school came near and facing me would be inevitable for him. Then, just a week before my senior year began, he hit me with what I had been warned by my friends was coming but I was too in denial to accept.
He dumped me.
Oh, but he didn’t do it in person, I wasn’t worthy of that. He did so by having me travel to a play of his downtown one hot day in August after deliberately avoiding me for three weeks, hardly acknowledging my existence by having me sit on the sidelines with a depressed face as he took pictures with other women, then sending me home while I was in tears alone in the middle of the night by myself on the train. When I finally obtained the balls to confront him about this on Facebook, since he refused to answer my calls to even at least make sure I was home safe, he made it as though everything was my fault and for a long time I would believe it. I was too shy and boring, he said. He wanted a girl who he could have fun with and didn’t cling onto him all the time because she was too socially awkward to stand on her own two feet. After he was done with his side of why he was leaving me, he decided he had no time to hear what I had to say. He simply left me on seen and changed his relationship status to single, and that was that.
For him, anyway. For me, it was devastating. My first relationship came to an end. The one person that made me genuinely happy for the first time in my life left me with nothing but a broken heart. The week following the breakup was full of starving myself because my stomach ached at the sight of food, and being awake until five in the morning with tears in my eyes as I obsessively stalked his Facebook in hopes of signs of closure and that he missed me.Instead I found him writing about the importance of moving on in life, and dedicating that one Fall Out Boy song where they sing in the chorus, “I don’t blame you for being you, but you can’t blame me for hating it…”, to me. I was convinced that he truly had forgotten me and that five months together meant nothing to him. All the kisses, laughter, and I love you’s meant nothing because I was not interesting or sociable enough for him.
When senior year began, I decided to wipe away those tears and put on a bold demeanor to prove to him that I didn’t need him. Despite the fact that I was still talking in my sleep about him, and resisting the urge to both slap him in the face and beg for him back, I still held my own when facing him in the halls as we walked passed each other as if we never met. That is how it was until one day in the cafeteria, three weeks into the school year, his eyes were planted on me as I talked and laughed away with new friends I made. He then approached me, hugged me, and asked me how I was. In his face, I kept my cool. For the rest of the day, I obsessed over that one interaction wondering if it meant anything. I should not have wanted him back after he abruptly dumped me and expected me to move on, but I didn’t care. All I knew was that he made me happy once, maybe he could again and we could put the horrendous break-up behind us. Having a good heart makes you believe that everyone else does.
That false sense of hope clung onto me that whole senior year. When he and I would have brief exchanges in the hallways or at lunch, the hope would remain. When I dated someone else briefly while I still had him on my mind, and he walked around sulking at the sight of me in the arms of another, hope would remain. When he apologized for hurting me after seeing me sulk around the school for weeks contemplating suicide just around the time I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety, hope would remain. Even when he would call me boring, or when he teamed up with his ex to bully me for moving on to another guy, or when he mocked my weight to other people, I still clung onto hope. When I saw him, I saw not the guy who hurt me, but rather the boy with the hazel eyes who admired me and treated me with such respect the year before.
Then came my last day of high school, quite possibly the last day I would ever see his face again. The day where I would pour out my feelings and determine whether or not we would rekindle our old flame.
Oh silly, naive, Lisa. If only you would accept that once a flame is burned out, there is no way of reviving it. You can create a new flame, but it will not be the same. That is exactly what happened with him and I. He got me alone, and apologized to me for everything he put me through. This is the one thing I will always give him props for; giving me the closure I needed to hear to fully move on. Oh sure, I made a fool of myself by pouring out how I felt about him and how I wanted him back. I also kissed him, but the kiss was everything I needed to tell me that whatever was left between us had died out. When I kissed him, I no longer felt my heart skip a beat but rather emptiness. I no longer felt like I was locking lips with someone I loved, but rather someone who had betrayed me, and left me with little explanation. No matter how hard I tried, I could not relive the past and undo the immense hurt he caused me. He was not that sweet boy I dated a year earlier who cared about me deeply and made me feel valuable, but rather someone who dumped me on Facebook and took six months to fully grasp what he did wrong. Nothing was going to change that.
That was my closure. That was what got me to move on. There was also his confession that he was “crazy,” which made little sense to me until the next year where events took place in which I will not write of. Despite the lack of using his name, what had happened was something I will not disclose out of respect of him and everyone involved in the incident. I will say that when I learned of what happened, everything came together and the asinine reasons he gave me for leaving was merely an excuse to let me go for my own safety. He wanted to protect me from himself. That was enough to allow me to gain all the closure I needed to fully move on and accept that he and I just could not be together under certain circumstances.
I would come to learn, however, that sometimes you do not have the luxury of receiving closure from the person. Sometimes people will just do you dirty, and then leave you to pick up the pieces yourself. There is nothing you can do in that situation, but cope with the pain yourself until you can fully move on. You also will have to learn to live without closure, and instead accept that the person did what they did because they are a remorseless piece of shit. More on that in chapter 2.

 

 

Fuck You

One of my last words to you were “fuck you.”
Fuck you for ever opening the door to a world where only agony exists and I can no longer feel pleasure without questioning motives or anxiously reading every action. Fuck you for luring me into your trap just to toss me away like a used napkin after I fell hard. Fuck you for tearing through my thick skin and molding me into this vulnerable little girl. Fuck you for stripping away my innocence, physically and mentally, and exposing my naive, fragile soul to the cruelty of the world. Fuck you for taking for granted the ugly parts of me I unveiled to you out of trust and then refusing to pick up the extra broken pieces you added. Fuck you for all the mind games you played until you had me fooled that the emotional rollercoaster ride you put me on was my fault. Fuck you for giving me a taste of Heaven just to put me through Hell. Fuck you for the times I confided in you with my desires, all of which derived from you, to swallow a bottle of pills just for you to enable it. Fuck you for stringing me along for months on months just to find that you would rather be with her. Fuck you for every single time you made me feel like I was not enough, for every single time I blamed myself for your actions and for believing I deserved your poor treatment toward me because there was something wrong with me. Fuck you for the fact that even though two years have past and you are long gone the impact you left on me is everlasting.
Fuck you.

Happy

Happiness is the American dream. The attractive, intellictual spouse and your own, beautiful house. Waking up to the sounds of your children running about and the dog you dreamed of since you were a child being for a walk. Getting in that car that you never once imagined you’d have and driving to your dream job that is the reason you have nine digits in your bank account.

Happiness is the smoke I puff out my lungs. Happiness is knowing I can no longer be hurt because I am and always will be alone. Happiness is waking up to no one by my side that I have to worry will no longer be by my side once they have made any use of me that they desired. Happiness is staying in that same bed an alienating myself from those people I call friends that make me want to tie a noose around my neck. Happiness is getting through the day without shedding a tear or a trigger to a panic attack. Happiness is those pills I swallow to erase these horredous thoughts from my mentally ill “psychotic” mind. Happiness is just surviving through another day without giving into those dark innermost desires I have in which I mask with this pseudo-happiness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

A few projects

Hello all, I know I have not updated the past month. I have been so busy with things in my personal life and I started working with a magazine as well so that has kept me busy. Nonetheless, I plan on making posts again soon. I am working on a one-act play called “Sluts” which will be up soon. I am still working on it.

My project, “My Reasons Why” which¬†I started back in March has not been forgotten about. I initially planned on getting back to it this month but I have yet to finish editing and revising some of the parts before posting it up. I have gotten back to editing and writing so it should be returning by mid-July.

Finally, I have launched another blog. After reading a few television review blogs, I decided to make my own of the television sitcom, Friends. It is updated every Thursday, and the first one was posted today. Check it out! https://televisionreviewed.wordpress.com/