“Do you remember when Marilyn Monroe died? Everybody stopped work, and you could see all that day the same expressions on their faces, the same thought: ‘How can a girl with success, fame, youth, money, beauty… How could she kill herself?’ Nobody could understand it because those are the things that everybody wants, and they can’t believe that life wasn’t important to Marilyn Monroe, or that her life was elsewhere.” -Marlon Brando
If I have one more unexpected new this week, I’m going to break apart..
happened not so long ago
it just occurred to me that Grinch was raised by lesbians
Please read and reblog
Hi, my name is Claire and this photo was taken two weeks before I died, for just over a minute. Two weeks before everything I had, everything I was, got beaten out of me, in the most brutal, unforgiving, painful and disgusting way I can imagine. I was 14.
On the 21st of August 2009, I was walking from a friends apartment to my mums office, just two blocks away. It was 8:45pm, dark and raining. The street was pretty empty. I remember the next few hours as clearly as if it were yesterday. The next few hours have been etched into my brain.
I got half a block away from my friends apartment when I was grabbed from behind. I was pulled into a van that had been parked on the side of the street before I could scream or even think. They blindfolded me, stuffed a piece of fabric in my mouth to gag me and taped my mouth shut. They tied my hands behind my back and bound my ankles. I could hear two men talking and one got out of the back of the van and got in the cab, then we started moving. They drove me for some time, I don’t know how long. I was sobbing and shaking. It felt like a bad dream. I remember thinking that stuff only happened in horror movies.. The fact that it was happening to me was, unreal. All I wanted was to me in my mothers office already, warm and safe.
After some time they stopped, and when the engine cut out it was quite all around the van. The driver came back into the van, and they took off my blindfold. The interior lights were on and there were no windows. The first man I saw looked as old as my father, the second was a bit younger. The look on the older man’s face will be stuck in my head forever. He looked excited, pleased. The younger man looked at me like I was a piece of meat cooked to his liking.
Then the older man started cutting off my clothing. I could hear my heart beat in my ears, and tears were all down my face. When I started struggling, despite being restrained, they started beating me. The younger man kicked me in the back, right in my kidney. He kept kicking me, as the older man started taking off his pants. It was so painful but I tried not to scream. When I stopped struggling he stopped kicking me. I looked up to see the older man kneel over my face, he was naked from the waist down. He smelled terrible. He said “I’m going to take this out of your mouth, but don’t bother screaming ok honey? No one will hear you anyway.” He ripped off the take, laughing at my wincing and pulled the fabric out of my mouth. Before I could swallow his penis was in my mouth and down my throat. The taste almost made me vomit, and he was making me gag. He pulled out and I spat out bile and spit which dribbled down my chin. He entered my mouth again and I did vomit. When I did, he started hitting my face. When he stopped I looked over at the other man and he was masturbating. I had vomit down my face and on my chest. The older man used some of my cut up clothing to wipe it up, and wipe it off him. Then he pulled me up on my knees, pushed my face into the floor and penetrated me from behind. I was a virgin before that night. The pain was unbearable. He was merciless and not about to stop. I screamed, and the younger man came and started kicking my side again. Then he got down under me and together they “double teamed” me. The pain made me pass out. When I woke up I was being beaten again, and when they saw me gain conciousness they carried on. I screamed and screamed. All I could think about was my mother, and my friend, and if they knew I was gone. All I wanted was the police to bust into the van and take all the pain away. I was so beaten up and hurt I couldn’t bare the pain. I couldn’t deal with it and I wanted to die. As they raped me, they cut me. They cut my legs, my chest, my stomach. I was bleeding a lot, but I couldn’t really see. One of my eyes was swollen shut. I started coughing up blood and breathing hurt so bad, not to mention the coughing. They ejaculated into me after a while. By then I was so out of it I hardly knew what was happening. I think then they realised how bad I was, and before beating me some more, they got out of the van and started driving again. I think I must have been alone in the back, and I just let go. I was so tired I felt like I was going to sleep. I woke up when I was being dragged out of the back of the van. I fell onto concrete and it was so bright I was blinded. I heard the van speed off and I knew it was over. I let go then. I felt my heart shudder and stop. I suddenly felt no pain, felt weightless. I was still in my body, it was just like my body had been turned off. It was pure white all around me, and it felt like a dream world. I was floating. There are no words to explain it. Then I fell, with a jolt back into my body. It felt like I had dropped into hell. My body was on fire and everything hurt. I gasped a breath of air and it felt like my rib cage got ripped out. I don’t remember much after that. I only have what I’ve been told.
I had been dropped off outside the emergency room and died on the ground. They estimated my heart had stopped for just over a minute. They resuscitated me, stabilised me, then put me to sleep. I was operated on almost immediately. I had three broken ribs, a collapsed lung, collapsed ear drum, severe blood loss, slightly fractured face below my left eye, a fractured shin, sprained arm muscles, severe abdominal bruising, damaged kidney, ripped and cut rectum and vagina, and deep cuts all over my body. They expected me to die. My injuries were extensive, at the very least. The police searched for these men for a very long time, but found nothing. It was suspected these men where experienced criminals, though their DNA from their semen wasn’t in the system. They were undetectable.
It took me over a year to recover physically. I’ve had counselling and therapy till this day. I have flash backs and nightmares a lot, but no where near as much as I used to. I’m getting better, slowly. I want people everywhere, guys and girls, to know that it gets better. I was lucky. SO many woman, and men, have been raped worse, and even murdered. This is my message to anyone and everyone who has undergone any kind of rape, sexual abuse or trauma to know that it gets better.It takes a while. But with help, and support you can get through it. It will never go away, but you can learn to control it, learn to live with it. It doesn’t control your life any more and you can move on, and get on with your life.
I am a survivor, not a victim. Repeat after me. You can be free.
Please reblog this. The people of tumblr have worked together before, and you can do it again. Help me get this out there. God bless.
When tears stream down my eyes, I would expect that they would bring my sadness way with them but instead, they simply dehydrate me and make my eyes puffy.
Suicide. It is a topic most people would avoid as it cause uncomfortable touchy feel-y subject, a habit in which most parents usually do. Perhaps they mean well by not wanting their child to think much on the topic and overwhelm them, or they are simply avoiding the topic for their own convenience. Either way, when a child is suicidal and does not have their own parents or close relatives to go to, they have friends who may well be as stressed and as suicidal as they are. Who do they have in their lives when everyone keeps avoiding this topic? A feeling of loneliness and lack of trust overwhelms them. This is not LOVE that they speak of but turning the children into SELF DESTRUCTING living ZOMBIES. Too much of that “love” would kill their own children. When faced with difficult situations such as talking about feelings and emotions with children, talk to them and advice them. They trust you enough to talk to them. Why break the trust by changing the subject? They are simply looking for a reason to survive in a hard and difficult world. Save a life. Talk.
When meeting new people or become acquainted with one, we find ourselves to have expectations of the person based on the first impression we have on them. I find that it is always that way when people get to know me. If I give them a good impression, they expect me to be that way for the rest of my life just because they think that they know who I am based on that first impression. When I suddenly screw up or show a different side of me, they say that I am changing or even that I am such a terrible person. Whereas if I had made a bad impression, they would expect me to be that way and would be shocked and perhaps even awed when I show to them that I am not as bad as they think I am and those people would forever remain friends with me. I find it much easier to be better than a bad impression rather than rise up to the high expectation that certain people expect of me.
But these impressions are really unnecessary when you meet people. Just because you think that the person is a saint, it doesn’t mean that they are. In fact, they are just simply nice people who are nice to you. You give them the chance to be nice but you don’t expect and demand them to be nice and saintlike all the fucking time especially when they are with you. You don’t fucking have the right. Just accept them for who they are and if you don’t like it, be glad it’s not any worse. I can be much much worse than anyone expects me to be but for anyone who expects me to be much better than who I am, would simply be disappointed. But who are they to be disappointed in the first place anyway? To see me as a disappointment?
I realize that all my best friends have had bad impressions on me when they first met me. I start to build my friendship with them by proving I am more than what they think of me. From there, we built trust for one another and strive to be better people. However, we never expect it of one another that we should be any better and disappoint one another. We learn to accept and not expect. We overlook those mistakes and view our best friends as best we can and hope that they do the same for us. We learn to eventually love them dearly.