#Hurting people

[ghostcats707]

Aphephobia

I have this dream

Your body radiates warmth,

Our limbs tangled together

But as I try to pull you closer,

I tear into your skin

As I look down, I see

My fingers end in sharp claws

And they have torn into your flesh

Your warmth seeps through

Staining the bedsheets crimson

I wake up in a cold sweat

This dream a haunting reminder

of why I can't have you

[burned0utstar]

Tw: kind of violent thoughts?

Is it so hard to text back? It's nit his fault, not at all, I have been angry for the past few years. Since I forgave I have had this rage deep inside of me.

But is it so fucking hard to text back? Why am I so angry at him? It's not healthy to imagine blood and teeth and tears of the ones you love caused by you.

I am just so angry. Not even really at him. He is not at fault. He is making me feel better I think? So why the fuck do I want to bash his head in and actually really hurt him?

I am a good person? I promise. I have never hurt anyone on purpose, so why are these images in my head?

Where does this anger come from and how can I let it go again? I can't keep living and burning like this.

[amerasdreams]

Wounded pride is a very dangerous thing. Whether you're a country or a politician.

A narrative of victimhood when you're actually in a position to do a lot of damage.

[vizthedatum]

People hurt each other.

Intentionally: On Saturday, I remember telling my meta and my partner how I lied to my ex-spouse about the nature of a date I went on - and how I considered that cheating on my part. I told them that I did it because I didn't want the backlash of their response and that I desperately needed to trust my own instinct and have autonomy. (I went to a baseball game (masked!) on a date - I lied and said that the date was having dinner outside) (If I hadn't lied... they would have yelled at me and made me feel like I was the most reckless person ever. Fuck them. I'm glad I lied to them.)

Unintentionally:

And this week, I learned how seriously hurt my friend (now ex-friend, effectively, since I cannot repair this friendship) was due to things I said to her. I can't take those things back. And also... I can't admit that I was entirely wrong in saying those things. I don't have the evidence she needs to trust me anymore, and I have to accept that I hurt her (even though I didn't mean to).

It sucks.

Would I have done anything differently knowing this would happen? (The answer is sadly "no" (there are instances in my life where I would have done stuff different, but not here)).

I barely slept last night, and I've been in so much physical and emotional pain over this. My whole body soreness has increased - and I'm seriously worried about falling into a massive IC flare (I've only felt twinges of it the past day and a half). My passive SI has come back more. And it was already building up with all of the stress and changes in my life.

And I think... I think the nature of this topic (which I don't want to disclose publicly) is really unfair. And that's my opinion, I guess.

It really triggered memories of when I couldn't help my brother. It triggered memories of feeling betrayed. It triggered memories of seeing my friends suffer and feeling helpless.

It isn't worth my time to re-traumatize myself like this when I don't have control over this. I don't have the means to get the evidence she needs. And my instinct right now is not wrong, based on my own gut and the things I've experienced. (Does that make me irredeemable? Maybe to some people.)

--

And it just all hurts.

One thing that I really love about my current partner is that they have acknowledged that we both have the capacity to (and likely will) hurt each other. It feels comforting.

It's not that they will hurt me intentionally (at least, I don't see evidence of that!).

But, at least they know that it could happen. That it is likely to happen.

And then we would be faced with choices on how to repair, what to accept, what truths/contradictions/lies/nuances we can hold, compromises to make, etc. (essentially all the things that go into the backbone of a longer-term relationship).

I hope that we have a longer-term relationship.

But even if we don't, I don't think these lessons or love was wasted.

And I need to accept these situations and forgive myself for trying my best (which I really did). I need to find a way to survive (not just survive, but thrive!!!) without getting ill.

Relationships end because people hurt each other. Relationships can also survive if people can find a way through that hurt.

And I've experienced both. That's pretty interesting about this life. I suppose I'm grateful to have relationships, however transient, at all.

[patchlessworld]

hahahahsnsjahahahahah IVE OFFICIALLY HURT SOMEONE AGAIN HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHSHAHAHAGAGAH

[inkskinned]

she's singing in another room and my dog is asleep at my feet. my grandma asked me why i haven't found a man yet and i laughed. oh, you know. i like my house clean.

my girlfriend is also my man is also "my partner" if i'm in a professional setting. yesterday we went to a ren faire and a man mimed at me - you're together? and at my delighted nod, his baffled, you're gay? made me laugh. a woman with rainbow hair said i love the two of you together. you're both so beautiful it's absurd.

my dad introduced my partner as my "..... friend. or whatever" the other day. he knows we're dating. in the same way, i was never able to get my sister's husband to stop saying that's gay like it's 2008. he still uses the word fa***t, and my sister's defense of him has always been well, he's just kidding.

my lover and i dance to old music in a tiny kitchen. we judge new music together and take food critique very seriously. we watch love is blind before we fall asleep and agree that if they had a queer season, it would be bloody but also make for excellent tv. of fucking course queer people would know someone for only 2 weeks and agree to get married. what are you saying.

at a bar with friends, a man puts his hand on my wrist. got a boyfriend? and yes, i do have a boyfriend, she's amazing. i am texting her while i wander around a gas station named after geese. i am visiting a swing state for a wedding. in the candy aisle i overhear: she's actually like a lesbian it's disgusting. two teenage girls with packaged sandwiches in their hands, giggling. no literally, like. i'm not, like. okay with her being there while we're all, like, naked and changing.

my girlfriend and i tailgate, drink gin and cider out of cups. from the frat group beside us, a man corrects himself with one of his friends: bro, i mean, nonbinary entity, and it makes everyone around him laugh, myself included. he razzes his friend the same way i would have killed for at 19 years old - like nothing happened, he continues: you apply sunscreen like an alien. he does a little sassy (and fairly accurate) dance interpretation of the motion. his friend is laughing so hard they're crying.

i am lucky, i live in a safe neighborhood in a safe state. my masc passenger princess comes up from DC. i drive her for an hour to where all the leaves are a violent arrangement of color. we walk along the trails, letting autumn into our blood. in this part of the state, there's a lot of pickup trucks and trump signs. when we chastely kiss before getting into the car, i accidentally make eye contact with a woman holding her child's wrist. she looks disgusted. she looks fucking pissed.

two hours later my girl and i are eating dinner on a patio, soaking in the last warmth of new england sun before the chill of winter sets in. we are giggling and trying to talk through plastic vampire teeth. at another table, i see a young woman sit up straighter. i watch her watch us. she blushes and takes her partner's hand from across the table. shy, like the taste of evening has just become something deeper.

it's worth it for this moment, i think. my lover is still humming the same song she's been singing for four days straight and i don't want to kill her for it. her guitar is beside my bed. her toothbrush is in my bathroom. in a few moments i will make us lunch. we are lucky enough to have found each other. it is lucky enough to be in love.

[timetravelsong]

𝐈𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐈’𝐦 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐭. 𝐈’𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞.

excerpts from a book I’ll never write

[greykolla-art]

My blog has become infested with angst goblins, and they must be fed with some hypothetical scenarios!🙏💚

[zanmor]

We are well beyond canary in the coalmine warning levels with the way trans people and particularly trans women are treated on this site.

Maybe you've heard the metaphor of allowing wolves and sheep to share the same space, welcoming everyone. You end up with just wolves because allowing them in that space makes it unsafe for any sheep. Or the story about how a nazi goes into a dive bar and is refused service. The bartender then explains to someone else at the bar that if you serve them once they tell their friends and before you know it you're the nazi bar they all go to and normal customers don't feel safe.

Terfs and other bigots are seeing these targeted harassment campaigns succeed against trans women and rejoicing. They see Tumblr ban them and officially stand by those decisions as endorsement for their harassment. It's a sign to bigots across the internet that Tumblr is a good place for them.

And what's more is that a lot of us probably don't realize just how much trans women contribute to Tumblr. The women banned recently were sources of site-wide memes and posts I wasn't even aware originated from them.any years old memes and references can be traced back to trans women on this site.

How many of these folks have to be removed before this is no longer a site you want to be a part of it? Sure you cultivate your own experience, but you can't follow or interact with people who aren't here. And if I wanted to interact with the nazis and terfs I'd go to reddit.

I encourage everyone to reblog this. Trans women shouldn't have to be the only ones speaking out against the bigotry they're experiencing. They shouldn't be the only ones risking their blogs being nuked by staff. We have to stand with them.

[midnight-coffee94]

No single line has ever wrecked me as hard as this one from the Good Place and I think about it constantly

[cronchy-baguette]

When all this is over, will you stay with me? For good?

[akanemnon]

I don't like this place. It's turning everyone edgy and sad.

FIRST - PREVIOUS - NEXT

MASTERPOST (for the full series / FAQ / reference sheets)

[voice-o-fallacy]

Heart, lungs, liver, nerves, heart, lungs, liver, nerves….

Time to combine two of my favorite games into one animation gif, at the cost of my poor neck…

[carry-on-my-wayward-butt]

imagine getting twenty four hours of a fraction of a taste of what marginalized bloggers on this fucking site have been told "doesn't break TOS" for the past 15 years and deciding to openly threaten to just nuke the entire website lmfao

[druid-for-hire]

[images ID: three images of a comic titled "one must imagine sisyphus happy" by druid-for-hire. it is a visual narrative beginning with someone with wrist pain (depicted by bright orange nerves) working at a drafting table. the reader is shown the same wrist as the person uses it for many everyday tasks such as carrying a grocery basket, pushing elevator buttons, typing, and doing dishes, until the pain dissolves all the panels into chaos. the person then performs several physical therapy exercises until the pain subsides. they sit back down at a desk with their laptop, sigh, and begin typing. a small spark of pain reappears. end id]

a fun little piece i made during the semester and submitted into our school comic anthology! (which you can buy at the Static Fish table at MoCCAFest in NYC ;] ). it's about artists and injury

[inkskinned]

you know, you know. no gods, no masters, no kings on pedestals. everyone is fallible. death of the author. you know! you are balanced about your intake of media - you allow the wiggle room, the grace, the gratitude, the skepticism. nobody above criticism.

but still. a weird gut-punch feeling, something akin to betrayal. you read the article. surprise! an author you love is actually: a serial fucking predator.

well, shit. what now. no, you knew he was a person (all people are), but now you're wondering - what have i overlooked by accident? what messages have i internalized that are strange and cruel? and also, like, what the fuck?

his actions lay a thick glaze on top of everything. like each place is now ruined, opaque in a new way. but okay, fine, you've done this before. you knew better, right? you've been betrayed by many a cherished childhood author.

still, this stickiness. fuck. can you pick up that book again. will you read it to your children. you've recommended it to others - will you ever do that again? and of course, of course, no parasocial relationships. you were theoretically above this kind of sentiment. but the artist informs the art, right.

so it's not something as clear-cut as feeling he owed you, specifically (a stranger) better behavior - just that you kind of, in a distant and odd way... sort of trusted him to do better. it's not like a real trust or something speakable, just the faint hope that the product (good books) was a thin representation of the soul. now it feels like the product (good? books?) was a mask. in some small or insignificant way, your previous support of this person lent them power. your money and your time and your laughter.

and the thing is - you have this terrible, echoing sensation. how many times will this happen? over and over. you find out that the singer you love is actually a predator. you learn over drinks that your favorite high school english teacher is in jail for what he did to her. you listen to the news idly and suddenly discover that a woman you used to idolize has been abusing her kids for an actual eon.

what can you touch without the static melting off. you can't even really complain about it too much (you were supposed to know better, and besides, you don't want the same re-split "it's not your fault, love what you love" basic advice), but now it's here. somehow, it feels like - you let him into your life.

it's not that things need to be pure or an artist has to be like, endlessly perfect, mindful. demure. it's more just this terrible truth that has been replayed through your veins so often it feels criminally vain. power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely. did you want any one person to be worth that power?

it's just that he wrote books where he seemed to understand that. he seemed to know about hierarchies and unfair systems and bigotry and privilege. you thought they were books about what it means to struggle. you thought they were about having power and still using it for good rather than for control. he spooned you a narrative of being a good guy, a kind soul. you fucking bought what that fucking monster sold.

maybe that's why they were fantasies, after all.