#my mom moved me up to 10th so I skipped a grade and a half but that's okay

[koka-mi]

another fun day of school!!! (memorizing bible verses)

[spn-fic-promts]

Like a girl (5 times Dean felt like a girl + 1 time Sam praised him for it)

TW: Rape/non-con, bullying, depression, self hatred and self harm.

Dean WInchester has always had problems with his body. As with most of his problems they all started when he was 4 and his mom died. Dean had to raise his baby brother with very little help from his father. His father who could hardly look at him. And all because Dean looked too much like a girl. Too much like his mom.

The kids at school commented on it as well. Mostly the other boys making fun of him. He always made better friends with the girls. They loved how long his eyelashes are or how pretty his eyes and freckles were. Meanwhile the boys would call him a girl and tell him he couldn’t do things. When he got older that turned into making him use the girls bathrooms and locker rooms. Or calling him names and saying he was gay.

And at home he had to act like a girl. Well a mom at least. He knew he had to take care of Sammy no matter what. Whether Sam realized it or not. If that meant feeding Sammy and not himself, Dean stayed skinny. If that meant buying Sammy new clothes and not himself, Dean wore Sams hand-me-downs. If that meant keeping johns drunken attention on him and not Sammy, Dean covered the bruises as best he could. If dad needed help on dangerous hunts, Dean was there not Sam. Never Sam.

He had to be the big brother, the dad, and the mom.

Like a girl.

------------------------

When he was 14 his father came home one day drunk. Dean had just finished putting Sammy to bed and was doing the dishes. His father came home to see him acting like a stay at home mom and mistook him for his dead wife. John stumbled over to Dean and wrapped his arms around his waist. His hands nearly connecting over Deans belly.

“Whatta ya doin’ babe?” John slurred in Deans ear.

Dean froze, “I’m doing the dishes dad. Are you ok?”

“Oohho yeah baby I’m fine. Especially now I get to play daddy again. Huh” John roughly turned Dean around in his arms and shoved his head into Deans neck.

“Ah! Dad!! Your drunk. You need to go to bed!” Dean gasped as his father sucked on his neck.

“Mhm yeah lets get to bed sweatheart.” John scooped Dean up bridal style as if he weighed nothing, and started stomping towards the bedroom of the motel. 

“No, no! Dad Sammy’s in here. You can’t!” Dean wriggled in Johns grasp.

John actually stopped and looked as if he was contemplating something. He turned around and started back. Dean let out a sigh of relief. Then John spoke up about what was on his mind. “It’s a good thing I got a room with a seperate room with a couch.

“No!” He screamed.

Like a girl

---------------------

In the morning John didn’t remember anything. Dean remembered it all. That week John left for another hunt and didn’t leave enough money. Sam needed new textbooks for 6th grade (after skipping 5th.) He was already bigger than Dean and would need more clothes. And Dean still had to feed him.

So Dean decided to use his femininity to his advantage. After Sammy would go to sleep Dean would lock all the doors and go to the nearest gas station in the skimpiest clothes he could find. 

Like a girl.

----------------------

Dean dropped out of school in 10th grade. While Sam skipped another year in 7th grade. Jumping straight to highschool at 12. It was hard to keep Sam in school while they moved around for hunts. But Dean made sure he went as much as possible. And taught him as much as he could on his own.

Dean had to go away on hunts more and more with their father. Leaving Sammy to fend for himself. Dean got in more and more trouble by leaving Sam extra money. He was constantly getting hurt by the monsters and told to man up.

Even the monsters commented on how girly he looked. So he decided to start trying to be more boyish. Taking girls out, working out more, being more reckless, and acting more ‘manly.’

Sammy eventually graduated and went away to Stanford. Dean was happy for him but was convinced that his brother simply didn’t want to be around him anymore. And Dean couldn’t blame him. He didn’t want to be around himself either. This was the point when Dean hit rock bottom. He started carving words into his thighs. Words like pretty, and girl. He cried in the bathroom while bleeding from between his legs.

Like a girl.

--------------------------

The first time Sam kissed him Dean panicked. They were in a motel in Texas on a hunt. Sam was currently soulless. And Dean was taking advantage of him. Yeah. Dean was taking advantage of the big, strong, muscly, man that he lived with.

Like a girl.

------------------------

“Dean” Sam called for his brother through the bunker.

“Yeah Sammy I’m just getting out of the shower!” Dean called back. Sam started his way to ambush Dean in the bathroom.

Yeah Sam was sorta horny for his big brother. And he knew Dean felt the same way. They had kissed and made out a lot since the first time when he was soulless. Sam also knew he had forced himself on Dean. Luckily Dean had run away before Sam could do more.

But since then their relationship had progressed. They held hands while not in public. Hugged while relaxing (”It’s called cuddling Dean.” “Not with me it’s not”) They made out a lot. But Dean wouldn’t let Sam get any further than that.

Sam knew about Deans self esteem problems. He knew that’s why Dean acted all macho like he did. Sam hated that. Hated that Dean covered himself up like that. Forced himself to be something Sam knew he wasn’t. Sam just wanted him to be himself. Just wanted his brother.

So Sam didn’t know exactly what sort of messed up blame he put on himself that’s making him not want Sam to have sex with him but Sam plans on fixing it tonight.

Sam quietly crept into the bathroom Dean was in. His brother was looking in the mirror and holding a towel around his hips. Sam crept up behind him and snuck his arms around Deans waiste. Still so small but with rock solid abs.

“S-Sammy? What are ya doin’?” Dean whispered as Sam inhaled his body wash.

“Just admiring my beautiful big brother. I wish I knew why you won’t let me touch you Dean. It’s all I can do to hold myself back.” Sam purred in Deans ear.

“No Sam you don’t want that. You don’t want that at all.” Dean grimaced at himself in the mirror.

“Why not Dean. Why would anyone not want you? Perfect. You so perfect Dean. So much smaller than me but still so strong. I love it Dean. I love your body. And anyone in their right mind would to if they saw it.” Sam met Deans eyes in the mirror.

Dean held his gaze and whispered “are you calling me crazy?”

Sam withdrawed his hands, shocked. “What- Dean-But-You-How?-Why?”

“Very articulate little brother.” Dean chuckled. Then he turned in Sams loosened hold and sighed. “If we’re really gonna do this then theirs some things I need to tell you.”

“Yeah Dean whatever you want. I’m listening.” Sam complied as Dean sat on the edge of a bathtub. Sam following suit.

“Remember when we were little and dad would always say I looked like mom?” Dean explained everything that had ever happened to him because of his looks. Explained what their dad did, the kids at school, men on the streets who paid him to do things he didn’t want to. He told him he’d been depressed after he left. That he had contemplates suicide. But he left out the words on his legs. Figuring Sam would see them for himself.

“Oh my god. Dean I’m so sorry.” Sam has pulled Dean into his lap. Held him tightly while they both cried.

“It’s not your fault. It was never your fault. Any of it.” Dean whispered.

“But I could have stopped so much of it if I’d just payed more attention. If I’d jumped out of my own little world for just one minute I could have prevented some of your suffering.” Sam sobbed into Deans shoulder.

“That wasn’t your responsibility-“

“And it wasn’t yours to sell your body to keep me fed!” Sam inturupts him. “Dean I used to beg you for more stuff. And you always got them for me. And I never realized that you were starving yourself to get them! I didn’t even need half the things I asked for! I was just being selfish!”

“It’s ok Sammy. Shh it’s ok.” Dean rubs gentle circles into Sams head while he holds him.

“I should be comforting you.” Sam states wettly.

“It’s ok. Hey hey look at me.” Dean pulls Sams face out of his neck. “I don’t know if you still want to but if you do. We can have sex now. I understand if after what I told you you’d be dis-“

“Of course I still want to Dean! God is that why you were hiding. You thought I’d be turned off by what you’ve been through. Dean I meant what I said earlier. Your beautiful! And perfect! And everything I’ve ever wanted. I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to realize it.” Sam stands up abruptly, causing Dean to wrap his legs around Sams waiste. “I wish I could have taken your virginity before dad did.” Sam says between kisses.

“Oh my god! Sam! Don’t say that!” Dean laughs.

“Why not?”

“1 ew don’t mention dad. 2 you were ten!” Dean says matter of factly.

“So? I was a horny ten year old. And I was already bigger than you.” He chuckles and Dean smacks him on the side of the head.

They get to the bedroom and Sam literally throws Dean on the bed. Dean bounces a few times as his towel starts to slip from his hips.

Sam makes a move to pull it the rest of the way off but Dean stops him. “Nuh uh. You first big guy. I don’t know if you’ve realized but I’m practically naked and your still fully clothed.”

Sam hastily rips off his clothes and throws them around the room while dean sits back to admire the view.

“Better?” Sam smirks cockily.

“Much.” Dean holds out his arms for Sam to fall into.

“Your.” Kiss to the jaw. “So.” Kiss to the neck. “Fucking.” One to each nipple. “Pretty.” One to the belly button.

Dean freezes on the last word. “What’s the matter?” Sam looks up at Dean worriedly.

“See for yourself.” Dean pulls the towel off himself and spreads his legs. Sam instinctively slots himself between them before kissing the tip of Deans cock.

“Dean are these?”

“Yeah.”

“Your not a girl. Your the most fucking perfect guy I’ve ever met.” Sam kisses the word.

“Your not my mom. Your my big brother. Your my whole world.” Sam kisses the word mom next.

“Your not a slut. Your the most selfless person I’ve ever met. And you have the most attractive body I’ve ever seen.” Sam kisses that word.

“And your not just pretty. Your beautiful. And I’ll never stop telling you just how beautiful and pressious you are.” Sam holds up Deans leg. The muscle twitching in his palm. And kisses the word.

When Sam crawls back up to see Deans face, he finds his brother covering his mouth behind his palm. Silent tears spilling from love filled eyes.

“I love you so much Dean. More than anything.” Sam whispers as he finally kisses Deans perfect, plump lips.

“I love you to Sammy.”

[l-aceaqua]

So here’s my little not so tiny story

TW: Eating disorders, other mental issues

2008. Diagnosed with anxiety. Ummm, 8 years old and already an anxious little ball. Niiiiiiiice

2009. Nine years old. The first thoughts of not being skinny enough have visited me. I swept them under the rug.

2010. My father died. My world is crumbled. My heart is shattered.

2011. The voices are getting louder. What is anorexia? Let’s google it.

2012. We’re in Greece. It’s summer. My family enjoys the vacation. I do too. At least I try. It’s easy enough when you surrounded with people. The nightmares start when you left alone. A set of a 100 push-ups? Sure, why not. A set of 100 crunches? Bring it on, dear. A set of 200 squats? You bet, baby. Writing down every little thing that you ate and ending the note with your tear because you’re feeling guilty? Yaasss, queen.

2013. Found out that if you take this and drink that that you’ll lose weight. Um, I’ll take two, thanks.

I’m sick. I’ve been sick all year. I’ve skipped almost a half of the school year. Why do I have high temperature? Why am I always weak? Me, my mom, the doctors, we are all wondering where it came from. Oh, wait…

Now I look at the photos from 2012-2013 the only thing I see is a normal teen, normal, at least physically. I have tears unconsciously coming to my eyes cuz I remember, I remember looking in the mirror and seeing nothing but a fat, fat girl.

That’s how and why I stopped trusting my eyes.

And they continued to fool me once again.

Now it’s the spring of 2014, the last year before high school, kids enjoying the sense of freedom in the air. I’m in my room. After school. With a bag from MacDonalds filled with 4 full meals. To this day I remember what I would get myself. One burger, one chicken burger, one chicken salad, one chicken roll, 20 nuggets, 2 brownies, big French fries, country fries, sauces, so many sauces, and a 2L bottle of soda. I would turn on Scrubs, lay on my bed, and gorge myself with everything that I bought. I couldn’t even move afterwards. It hurt to move afterwards.

I laugh because if I don’t I will cry.

I used to go onto MacDonalds, Burger King and Subway’s sites to fantasise about the food and plan my next binge. Now I’m proud to say I genuinely don’t want to do this anymore.

I’ve gained 10kg (22lbs). I feel disgusting. Once again I’m restricting myself and failing miserably, I’m restricting myself and failing miserably, I’m restricting myself and failing miserably…

I don’t have anything to live for. I’m not living. Merely existing. A parody of life in a form of me. Repression was always a way to deal with things for me.

August of 2014. One month until high school. One month until the teenagers’ dreams will come true. I’m still at the same weight.

I remember it was the 29th-30th of August. I went to cycle. Two hours, two and a half hours. I came home. I put my bike at its place. I go to the bathroom. I crumble to the floor. My face is shaking. My eyes are closing. My vision is getting blurrier and blurrier every second. I’m on the bathroom floor. Desperately trying to remain conscious.

1st of September of 2014

I’m still the same. The viscous cycles have continued.

2015. Going to MacDonalds is too hard now. So I enjoy the foods that my nearest grocery store can offer. Buns, ramen, cookies, donuts, beans, ice cream, chips, chocolate bars, sodas… and more. Everything and anything. Together or apart. I want it all! I need it all… My classmates noticed I’ve gained weight. They’re polite about it. Don’t poke or make fun of me. I’ve got me to do that. Lucky.

2015. The ninth grade ends. It’s a big thing where I come from. You can choose between going to college or continuing school (10th&11th grades). I don’t want anything. Just leave me alone. I’ll crawl under some rock and die. Leave me at peace.

Somehow I’ve managed to pass my exams. Not all of them were bad. All of them broke me mentally.

I insisted on going backpacking around the world. My mother insisted on me finishing school. Good thing she did. Consider this: I was 15 at the time. Verstehe?

1st of September 2015.

One month until the day that I change school. One month until I can start fresh and new. One month until I meet new people. One month… yet I’m still at the same weight. I fast and fail, I fast and fail.

Spring of 2017. I’m giving up. I can not think about my body any more. Not a second more. I’m tired. Mentally and physically. I give up.

I spent my graduation staring into my phone and hoping it ends soon. My rides to the place of celebration and back home were nice. My city is beautiful at the sunrise.

I haven’t taken a single photo of myself since the spring of 2016. I can not look at the photos of me. They make me wanna vomit. My face, my body, everything makes me wanna vomit. Then let’s not look at myself anymore. So I didn’t.

August of 2017. Is that control? It came and flew away like a butterfly. But I did manage to have a taste of it. I never new what it felt like. It feels nice.

Autumn of 2017. Things are getting better. Very slowly. Extremely slowly. But things are changing. I’m in university now. Studying what I’m genuinely interested in. The binging still continues though. Not as intense. But it’s still present.

Now. February of 2018. I’ve lost 7kg(15lbs). I would be lying if I said that it wasn’t important to me. Yet still. I’m feeling better. I see hope? I think it’s hope. Haven’t had that in a while. It also would be a lie to say that I don’t fast. I do. I also feel more and more control over my head. Binging is minimal now. Soon it will go away completely. I’m feeling alive. For the first time in six years I feel alive. ALIVE. I want to shout from the roof tops I’m that happy. But the work isn’t finished. I do not have a good relationship with food. But I will. One day I will.

I don’t know what I had and I don’t know what I have. I have never went to therapy. Do I regret it? Yes and no. But I would not want anyone to pressure me into it.

This is the most honest I’ve been with myself in all those years.

It hurt going through it so meticulously once again. But I had to set things straight with myself. To remind once again who I was and who I have become. That’s the only way to move forward for me.

07.02.2018

P.S. One day when I’m over it I’m going to show this to my mother and to anyone who will be important to me.

[mariellewritesalot]

The Skinny on Being Body Positive

I have a problem with body image in 2018, and how only half of the progress is made by humanity to be a little kinder to ourselves regarding our bodies. The worse part is, I’m one of those people who fall for the standards of what’s hot and what’s not. The growing pains of teenage years, as it would seem, when social media and attention amount to basically everything in life. Instagram gratification through comments that say or even closely sound like, “Uy, pumayat ka!” somehow makes not eating rice and working out after school so worth it--no matter who sent it. Who cares, right? As long as someone thinks you’re attractive. Things like that serve as motivation, but really, it also becomes an underlying proof of how shallow and vain we can get. There’s nothing wrong with trying to take care of your body, that’s actually a great place to start as you mature, but sometimes we tend to get a little too enthusiastic that we start to punish ourselves unnecessarily through food-shaming or starvation or working out so hard after an equally busy day that you throw up and feel sick for two days straight after. I’m not someone anyone would call ‘fitness goals’ or ‘body goals’ because I still have a lot to work on, but I have a thing or two to say about how trying to live healthy could get unhealthy if we let it.

Growing up, my size and weight has always been fluctuating. In some photos I am chubby, in others, just right. Of course, as a kid, body size is the least of our worries; what with ninangs making gigil about how cute we are. Sometime around when I was 10 years old though, I started to feel a little bit more conscious, but whenever I brought up the idea of dieting, adults would always say I’m too young to worry about my weight. I let it slide. There were more problems to think about, after all. Come in high school, the pressure to look pretty and be what society claims to be ‘sexy’ rose up as we ranked up another grade level every year. Everyone around me at that time started getting boyfriends, and it always puzzled me, growing up from a conservative family and all. It didn’t help that I was the only girl, so getting involved with boys romantically wasn’t really a priority. That’s how people started to tell me, I could be pretty if I tried. I rarely did. I was going through puberty like everyone else so I couldn’t possibly know what I truly want to look like if my acne kept coming back and my hair was a big curly mess. I wore glasses since the 4th grade, so that automatically puts me in the ‘smart girl stereotype’ who holed up in the classroom and was labeled as a nerd. I have been chubby most of my life, so much that I don’t even notice it when I lose or gain weight until I look back to my photos from a few years later and see differences.

In the 10th grade, I was introduced to blogilates by Janiene, and sometimes tried to squeeze in a quick workout there from time to time. I was never consistent though, but it was okay. I started setting up goals and telling myself that when I turn 16, I should be at my prime. I should be able to go to family outings and wear a bikini, but I never did. At 16 I was still the same girl, and it became frustrating with every condescending comment whenever I ate a lot of food in front of friends and family. One relative even told me, “You have the body of a 30 year old,” which of course, for a teenage girl trying to get over insecurity issues, stung. So much that I still remember it to this day. When my mom would get me clothes and they won’t fit, in her exasperation she would unconsciously say something like, “You need to lose weight. You keep getting fatter.” Of course, having 5 brothers also put me on their radar a lot of times, earning me teasing on the daily. I was always made to feel about my weight, every once in a while someone will come in to the rescue and say, “You’re not that fat,” and it would make me feel a little bit better. Only until a few years later did I realize how unhealthy it was that being fat was associated to being ugly, when it shouldn’t have been like that. Not everyone is built to lose weight no matter how much they try healthy eating or exercise if their body type can only cater to so much.

I hit quite a low point for my body in 2016, when I started Senior High. I was usually around 135lbs/61kg but I noticed how my weight went up and my clothes felt a little bit snug as months went by. I would say the cause of it is both stress and happiness that causes “love chub” aka the fat that comes from being so happy and in love that people tend to overeat and feel too lazy to move around. When someone adores you no matter what size, it’s easy to let go of those fitness goals, and forget about trying to impress other people. Food becomes your best friend and a way of bonding with your significant other. The pressure is somewhat taken off. However, the little monster was still there, gnawing at my newfound confidence. Whenever a lot of people would comment that I’m gaining weight or I take photos and see that I look larger than usual, I would feel sad and cry about it. I eventually reached 153lbs/70kg and during the summer of 2017, I decided I would try to get rid of my extra weight. It wasn’t healthy anymore since my metabolic age reached 26, and I wanted to actually look better for my debut in November. This was the time I realized how discouraging it was when people don’t believe that you can do it, and how encouraging it was to get your heartbroken while you’re in the process of it all.

In a few months, I was down to 130lbs/59kg which now is my constant weight, though it occasionally rises up to 62kg during weeks when I don’t diet or workout. Goes to show how slow my metabolism is. I gain back weight easily if I don’t keep it together. Back in August 2017, I crossed off wearing a bikini on my list and for the first time took photos in the gym, coincidentally also the on the first time I went there. My diet is basically less carbs and sugar, more protein. I lived off skyflakes, bananas, yakult, homemade salads, soy milk and yogurt. I avoided fast food whenever I could and when eating outside, ordered the healthiest thing on the menu. I learned how to count calories using MyFitnessPal and kept it under 1200 most of the time. My workout is pilates at home and sometimes when I have all the time in the world, jogging at the oval. There are good days and bad days for my program, but what’s important to me is I am consistent with getting back on track no matter how many times I fall off the wagon. However, when Christmas and New Year break rolled around, I felt guilty as hell when all the food had come and gone and I am left with a lot of bloating and new added weight to ring in the new year. The frustration was back, harder than ever, since people have looked up to me after I kept the weight off.

When 2018 came, I tried to go on a reset to ease my guilt. It was going pretty well, I worked out everyday and removed dairy, gluten, added sugar, alcohol, and processed food on my diet. I went a little crazy, crying when I craved something and had to live off only on what I was allowed to eat. I thought I could go on for 28 days, but of course, eating less than required and working out did not go well with my hectic as hell schedule. I had classes, school paper and council meetings, and a lot of things on my plate. To top it all off, I workout as soon as I get home, skip dinner, and barely get enough time to sleep for the next day. I often felt a headache coming on, but chose to ignore it or down antibiotics until it fades away. My friends who see my eating habits at school were starting to worry I was going to have an eating disorder, while some classmates wanted to try eating healthy for a change because they saw how it worked out for me. I got tired of listening and was just determined to get through it and see results. Eventually, I got really sick. I started losing all energy and resulting to bad stomach aches with diarrhea and throwing up even without eating anything. Got really scary, almost got admitted to the hospital, and was taking a lot of medicine and bed rest for 4 days. Everyone around me told me it might be because I was pushing myself too hard on the losing weight thing that it backfired. Maybe it did, so I took a short break. Tomorrow I’m back to working out, but now I’m altering my diet into a healthier one that leaves me room to at least enjoy every once in a while instead of punishing myself for indulging my whims. 

The reason I’m writing this and telling you all about my journey with all its ups and downs no matter how much it hurts my ego to let you all in on my insecurities and ugly secrets, is because today I caught myself being someone I didn’t want to become: hungry for validation from others. There I was, scrolling through random girls’ Instagram pages, feeling really ugly and shitty about how I look, and at the same time feeling guilty about eating puff pastry, a rice meal, and Cheetos all in one day. A thing I don’t normally do anymore. I had a moment to myself to stop and realize that what makes trying to be healthy unhealthy is the way I compare my progress and body type to other people and letting negativity beat me to the ground until I’m back to living in agony; all in hopes of looking how society wants me to look like. I start to wonder if I’m still doing it for myself like how I was doing it before, or if I’m just overcome by pressure from other people to look my best. A lot of self-reflection was put into work, and I started thinking how lonely it would be if there are girls out there, especially those younger than me, who feel ugly just because of their body sizes and it breaks my heart. I don’t want them to feel the weight on their shoulders, and for them to think they aren’t pretty just because they’ve got a little chub here and there or they’re thinner than normal. It’s actually okay, and I commend people who try to stay fit, but making other people feel bad because they don’t look like they’re straight out of a magazine with perfect obliques, toned abs, and a huge front and behind is something that needs to be stopped. I don’t want to set a negative example on anyone, so I will take it easy on myself and be kinder with my judgment of other people from now on. 

 I am slowly learning how to move in my own pace, rejoice in my triumphs, and forgive myself whenever I slip up a few times. I’m going to have days of thinking, “fuck it, I’m having that donut” whenever I deserve it after working too hard academically or not. All in moderation. I know there will be days when I will feel tired of keeping up, and that I will constantly live in fear of not looking good enough, but I promise to be kinder to myself and to give myself breaks. I am no celebrity, I can’t afford gym memberships or surgical alterations, but I will make the best out of what I can do. Other people’s comments will either lift me up or bring me down, that’s for sure, but I will back myself up and think: What do I want? What do I think is better for myself? I will choose my words and battles, constantly trying to become a better person inside and out everyday. January might have been a bad start for this year, but I’ve got high hopes for the next few months to come because I stay driven and hungry in the best possible way, and what’s more is that I get to tell you that it does get better. I’m rooting for you to overcome the way society keeps body-shaming everyone that no one is sure what’s real or not anymore. So, make sure you do.

Always, 

Marielle

[monorayjak]

Hello, I need help.

My best friend since elementary school, we’ll call him K, does not seem to be in the best situation, and I don’t know what to do.

So, we are going to have to rewind just a bit. K’s mom and dad got a divorce when we were in around 4th or 5th grade; his dad was a drug addict. He and his younger sister lived with his mom, with his dad getting visitation...not that he ever did. Well, around our 10th-grade year, his mom began dating someone else, she gave birth to K’s younger half-brother, and they decided to get married to become a full family. Skip ahead a year, and they are about to move to a city two hours away, but K only has two years left of high-school and he wants to stay at our school with his friends. The decision is that he stays with his great-aunt until high-school ends. In our 11th-grade year, his aunt dies. Still wanting to stay, he moves in with his dad, who still lives in the city. We were all a little worried, I mean, his dad was and still is a drug addict, but K stays away from it all and seems happy enough. Skip forward a few months, and his dad overdoses. Yeah, K has not had a good life recently. Well, K’s mom convinces them to live with them in the other city, and he agrees. I visit him about a month later after having to go there myself, its a nice house, and K is living in the upper little balcony area....not in a room, in the open balcony where everyone can look up and see him and his brother and sister, who he does love, continue to annoy him, nothing too bad there, I mean, their siblings, what did you expect? It did kind of annoy me and my mom that he had no privacy, and after asking him, he said it bothered him too, but still, that was the only complaint anyone had, so not a bad spot, just annoying. Well, now here we are, my freshman year of college, and K has moved back to our city because he missed his friends...the only issue is that he has no real place to stay, at the time, my house is crowded with me, my mom, her girlfriend, and her son, so, not really a real option for him. He decides to move in with his “Step-Mom,” aka, his deceased father’s druggy girlfriend. You can see how this is already turning downhill. Well, he started college a semester after me, and his grandfather bought him a car for his eighteenth birthday. Last week, he totaled his car while, we think, joyriding with a friend no-one knows named Chris, no last name, no connection to any of us.

Long story short, things have gone from ok to meh to decent to “Oh no” and then finally to “fuck.”

I am worried about him, and I know this could be just me overthinking or who knows what else, but I am scared and I don’t know how to reach out to make sure everything is ok. I have basically been his pseudo-conscious since elementary school, and he seems to be...I don’t really know.

I just want to help him, and make sure he doesn’t end up like his dad did, a drug addict with an early grave....and I don’t know how...

[vpoetx]

Thursday, December 27th, 2018 2:18am

Dear love of my life, 

Im writing because we recently spoke, and we spoke to each other like strangers. We asked each other how we were, although you know I could be anything but okay since you are not with me, and I know you aren't okay babysitting that bum fucker you're with. It was my mistake to not have tried harder to get us closer, i know. Im sorry, but you have half of the fault as well. Why can’t you leave him? I get the fact that you feel bad for him, you don’t want to make him upset, but your happiness matters too. You cant’t be with him if he doesn't make you happy. LMAO i can't imagine him taking you out and him asking his mom for money because his bum ass dont work. Thats why he has to rely on his mother taking all of you out. How sad. Not saying that he should pay for everything, but the kid is bum. Leave him. Leave him and lets try us again. We have three years of history together. He could never put in not even 1/10th of the effort I have for you. Would he pick up his grades for two years to get into a prestigious internship? No. Would be work TWO jobs while IN SCHOOL? No, he doesn't even have one job. Would be save almost 15k to start a family with you? No, you told me that he doesn't even have a fucking account. I mean, how fucking pathetic. Here I am, putting so much effort and for him to get chosen over me? Im kind of mad, and I know that I kind of dont have the place to. But I still am, but it also makes me sad. 

But soon my love, soon I’ll be closer to you. Im willing to move to the other side of the country for you. Because you're worth it and I love you. Did you know that you still make my heart skip beats when I see your name on my phone? Did you know that I have never felt this before? Did you know that you’re the only one I’ve tried so much for? 

I love you. 

But right now, I’m upset at all of this stupid shit. 

[moonflowermama-blog]

#metoo If you want to skip my story straight to my point and opinion then go down to the *****'s

6th grade,  a boy after school snapped my bra and told me I barely had and boobs so I had no reason to be wearing a bra. He kept snapping it and telling me to stop trying and take it off

7th grade the male campus advisor told me I needed to switch out of the shorts I was wearing because they were part of the dress code. Then proceeded to tell me he needed to watch me change to make sure I would do as he said. I immediately walked away from him to my favorite teachers class and asked to use her phone so I could get picked up. That same advisor came up to me as I was leaving her class telling me that i was going to get written up if I didnt change while he watched 'to make sure' immediately. I kept walked straight to the office and waited there for someone to come get me. He didnt follow me in there and didnt bother me again.

8th grade I was sitting on a couch watching a movie with a couple of guy friends. One I had known previously, the other I met only a couple days before. The new guy put his hand on my thigh, too high for comfort. I pushed him off and he played it off like he didnt know he was doing it. He Then put his arm over my shoulder. I shrugged him off but he barely moved. Later I leaned forward because the movie was getting good, he then tried to undo my bra while my other friend was doing something somewhere else. I then said my mom called and i walked home by myself. It was about a 2 mile walk. The next week or so consisted of My old friend telling me to give the new guy a chance.

9th grade, I was out with a friend on a blind date. While my friend was away with her boyfriend, my "date" did the unthinkable. When i was dropped off at home. He thanked me.

I switched to homeschooling in hopes I would never have to see that girl or anything else that would remind me of that night and thought nothing else could bother me after that. I never told anyone until years later.

2nd half of 10th grade

I went over to a potential boyfriends house, I had met him online had been talking for a couple days and this was the first time we met. when I got there I found a couple of other friends I had went to school with. That kid would try to nibble on my ear, and hugged me from behind while grabbing my boobs. I didnt go over there again and we stopped talking.

10th grade I got my first job on beachside. There was an array of horrible words slung my way. Including one I remember in particular, this grown man tried to pay me off to marry his son, when I said No we then said to forget about his son he would be my sugar daddy, having me all to himself is what he'd rather do anyways. but no one touched me. Probably helped I was behind a counter all the time

11th grade I got off work early and took a walk to the board walk while waiting for my ride to get there. A grown man grabbed my butt so fiercely I was sure there would be a mark. I turned around and punched him So hard I broke his nose. I then ran off.

That wasnt the end and it probably still wont be.

**********************************************************

I have dodged alot of bullets. Swerved alot of attackers. But they still sometimes got to me. At the very least these incidents embedded themselves so deep in my brain I will never be able to forget it. Most of them I still remember their names.

This shouldn't be just about awareness that these things happen. We all know Damn well it is an on going constant problem. This should be about what Were going to do about it. This should be about helping people, (news flash men get raped/assulted too) feel safe to speak up on such attacks.

People , (mostly women) should not feel threatened 24/7. We are not objects, play things, lesser creatures, prey, nor are we EVER asking for it. We are human beings.

You are stronger than you think. Be brave. One day, things wont be this bad or constant. I'm not hoping for perfection. Simply hoping for improvement.  I hope this helps someone. Hopefully opens someone's mind.

What can we do about?

1st off get your head out of your god damned wonderland-ass where everything is sunshine and daisies and things like this never happen. Stop turning a blind eye and realize the gravity of the very real situation

2nd start with the young ones. Teaching them about self awareness, respect, CONSENT, consenting themselves and. Respecting consent from others.

3rd teaching everyone to speak up against these predators so they no longer get away with their disgusting crimes.

I am not doing this because I feel I have to. I'm not doing this because any of these men deserve any sort of attention or light.

I am doing this because too many women go to the grave, even go to the grave way to early, with the idea that someway some how it was their fault, that they did something wrong. They are the ones scared of getting in trouble. I am doing this because someone right now is struggling with what is the right thing to do. Speak up. Its not your fault. THEY deserve to be punished. And youre not alone.

#me #fucking #too

[stitchedhart]

The First Cut Is The Deepest

“First best is falling in love. Second best is being in love. Least best is falling out of love. But any of it is better than never having been in love.” —Maya Angelou

Every “first” is exciting and worth remembering specially when you are young and carefree! But the painful ones are the most damaging and most curse-worthy scenario!

My first love was both a bliss and a failure.

Bliss. That feeling of completeness and joy of falling in love for the first time. That emotional roller coaster you ride for the first time in forever and you get all the feels of loving and be loved back. Isn’t it great if your crush and first love feels the same way about you?! The butterflies in your stomach and heart-skipped-a-bit moments. These are all priceless for a young and naive girl at 8th grade. Yep. I was 14 when i had my first crush and prolly my first love. I saw him as the boy who can turn my world upside down. The one who can shower me attention and put butterflies in my tummy. The one who can figure me out when my mood swings up & down. The one who can do what it takes to make a relationship last.

I remember, Ive kept a DIY diary way back highschool days. I made sure the writings was encrypted, so the inputs were written in numbers instead of letters. It was like keeping a “jueteng” book hahaha. One day, out of my carelessness, i forgot the diary on my desk at school. I only remembered about it when one of my barkada returned it to me the next day. With a silly grin on his face he said, “Hoy bansot I know your secret now so better be good to me, libre mo ako ngayon!” and handed the said diary to me. It was like the world was put into a halt and all the blood in my face was suctioned out making me pale as snow lol. I was not surprised though of how he figured it out. Anyhow, the inputs in the diary didn’t give him the easy job lol. But still, he did unlock my most guarded secret (bummer).

As expected, my wicked friend disclosed my top secret to crush (if only killing is legal) Sweet baby jesus..I wanted the ground to crack up and swallow me on that instant (ggggrrr) But then, it turned out, crush feels the same way about me (WOW). “Crush ka ng crush mo” moment (eeeehhh) that was the first milestone in my teenage life (hahaha).

It was on the 9th grade when we became an official item. What we had was not the typical boy-girl relationship. I didn’t want him to crowd me in front of my friends. I didnt want him to show a public display of affection (PDA). I just wanted him to care and love me from a distance. I didn’t want to display to the whole student body that i was his girl. Though everyone was aware about it, still, I was not comfortable. I was kind of insecure when im around him. It’s like as if i don’t deserve to be his girl. But i knew his feelings for me was genuine. It was just me. Maybe because he was good looking, popular and the battalion commander of our CAT class. I was just the guidon bearer, the not-so-tall and not-so-pretty-girl. I was just the petite high school student who happened to have caught his attention with my cute charms lol.

I remember… He used to give me a rose in the afternoon after our classes. Freshly picked from her mom’s garden. He secretly puts it by the window in my Mamala’s house. He makes short poems and gives me love notes every day. He helps me with my projects and he protects me from bullies. He was the sweetest. He even gave me love ring. I was the happiest girl during that time. At 16 i got my first boyfriend, experience my first kiss and had all the feels of having a bf (landi mode) :D

The relationship went steady until the 10th grade and then high school graduation came. We separated ways and we went to University. But that didn’t end our relationship. Until the second half of the term, something went wrong. No more love letters and then communication faded.

(photo: ctto)

Nothing lasts forever…

Failure. Semestral break when we finally ended up our relationship. ‘Twas raining then. We talked about it in the most civil and calm manner. I told him that we have to part ways because we cant manage a long distance relationship. He said yes without hesitation. He then told me he found someone new and the girl happened to be my friend. Double shit! We bid goodbyes…no more last hug or last kiss, just goodbye! When he left our house i fucking cried like a baby. It was so painful i wanted to scream! It was like, my heart was lacerated with a double edge knife greased with venom.

I wallowed in pain and loneliness. I cried every fucking chance i get. I was angry. My young and virgin heart was trumpled upon, badly beated and shattered. I admit i even cursed that day my friend found out about my diary. But that was not the end of the rope for me. I picked up my self and tried to move forward. My badly beaten heart has reached it’s saturation point at that time. It can no longer absorb pain or any feeling. It was just beating erratically for my dear life.

(photo: ctto)

Bottom line: I was the idealistic type when i had my first love. I was young, carefree and gullible. I saw the world filled with hearts, peaches and unicorn. It was not until i found my other half/my soulmate that I’ve come to understand the concept of true and unconditional love.

First break up.. first pain always have a heavy impact in our life and to our next relationship. No one can take our past from us, it has something to do with our present. Yeah. It is true that past is past and it will never come back but the lessons stay. First love is basically what teaches us with some of the most important things about love. We learn what to do and not to. Its painful at some point but it is also one of the most meaningful relationship anyone can experience.

It has been 2 decades that we didn’t see each other after that break up. Thanks to Facebook im no longer wondering how he looks like after so many years. We are just connected by social media now. Im even friends with his wife. I saw how his life unfolded after the so-called puppy love. He’s living his own life now as i am living mine. I feel a fond memory of how i felt back then when it was all good and perfectly awesome, but none of the hurt has lingered.

Because at the end of the day, no one ever fell in love gracefully!

I remember the boy but i dont remember the feelings anymore!