I fucking hate antis. I used to be one, and I am still SURROUNDED by all this “liking fictional CSA means you’re icky and one of the bad victims and YOU WILL DO IT IRL!!!!” Bullshit.
People I admire and look up to end up saying it. My “friends” end up saying it. It’s everywhere. I often feel like I can’t trust anyone, not even my close friends who have already told me they don’t care what I’m into.
it’s terrifying.
ive seen what antis have done to us, I’ve seen how easy it is for people like me to be exposed. I’ve seen how people will see you as nothing but the filth that soils everybody’s shoes; or the sick, drooling predators just waiting to strike. I’ve seen how people are isolated, abandoned, and even driven to kill themselves because Society just doesn’t fucking like freaks.
And everybody on this app says that “most people are proship!!! It’s the normal opinion!! We’re the normal ones!!! ”
I CAN NEVER BELIEVE IT. where the fuck do you live??? People abhor my gayness. People abhor my true gender identity. People abhor the way I carry myself as an autistic person. PEOPLE HATE, SO FUCKING MUCH, and they hate what they think is weird. People don’t even get that Lolita isn’t endorsing what the main character does.
if it’s so normal, then why is it so much MORE normal for people to react to the concept of lolicon with “oh, they must be nasty hairy pedophiles living in their mothers basements with tons of CP. it should be illegal!”?
if it’s so normal, why is it more normal for self-righteous video essay YouTubers to treat “booktok girlies” like crass, pitiful zoo animals for liking taboo shit in their spice novels? Why do they always come to the conclusion that they’re all stupid old cunts who could never tell the difference between fictional abuse and real abuse?
if it’s so normal, then why is it more normal for people to make this fake binary of “proper, real sexual violence fiction” and “filthy, romanticizing sexual violence fiction?”
People in general Might understand you if you just say you make art about dark subjects. They might be “normal” about that.
But I know full and well that it would be a different story if I bring up fictional incest or CSA. It would be an especially different story if I mentioned that its not to cope with trauma, just to get off on.
…I probably have trust issues, and I have antis to thank for that. It’s getting so common in the media. I’m so sick of people telling me it’s commonly accepted. It is NOT. What I write is gross, triggering to most and seen as immoral to SO many people. Even people I love.
I make new friends, but I don’t let them get close. I’m always terrified/constantly thinking about them discovering that I’m a freak and leaving me— or worse, outing me to others.
it’s actually why I’m too scared to start posting like I used to on tumblr. I know what I am. I don’t try to delude myself into thinking I’m “normal.” I am not, and maybe that’s okay.
I hate antis for what they’ve shaped me into. How their rhetoric that I clung to in fear for so long had shaped me into an uncaring, virtue-signaling asshole. I hate them for how I crumbled when I discovered I had become the very thing that my friends and role models swear to destroy. I hate their logic for getting into almost every fucking crevice of the internet and even my peers’ beliefs. This stuff ruined my mental state.
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Soap groaned in front of the mirror while scrubbing his bloody face with a dampaned rag because washing it with handful of water would make his bathroom look like a murder scene. Which he just came from. And he wasn’t in the mood for more of it.
This time the mission was especially bloodier. Merchaneries popping out of everywhere and bullets flying, only the glint of a very fast knife seen and gurgling voices mixed with screams. They successfully obtained the data they went for, but the cost of it was more nightmares and horror – like always.
After freeing his face from dirt and blood, Soap showered before treating the small cuts on his face and the bullet graze on his left bicep which the meds told him to care for. Soap was already out of the infirmary when he didn’t hear anything about his life being in danger and run for the comfort of his room instead. He could care for it in solitude of the four walls of his bathroom.
He left the shower with a sour mood, nothing he would do now were to solve his post-duty problem. Not before sleeping like a dead man in a coffin for at least 8 hours. With that in mind, he mindlessly stepped towards to the mirror again, to see his face. But he had to bit down on his lips to stop himself from screaming his head off and probably gather every soldier on the base with guns ready in his room. Between the foggy surface of his mirror and the reflection of his face, he could’ve sweared he saw someone else. It was a faint shadow of a white skull, with very alive and brown eyes. When Soap blinked, it was gone.
“I’m losing it this time, ain’t I?” Soap took a step back from the mirror but his hands were gripping the sink like it was the reason why his life was a miserable mess and his brain was going out of it. “What the fuck?”
After the jump scare of his life, Soap intented to act as if nothing happened and he cleaned his injuries before going to bed. But everytime he closed his eyes, a pair of brown eyes were looking at him througha skull -a skull probably belonged to a very, very dead man. Soap shook his head and sighed into his pillow. If he were not to sleep in twenty minutes maximum, everybody in the base were gonna be in need of a psych eval because Soap was about to start making his own problems everybody’s bussiness.
At the morning, Soap run into Gaz. Gaz eyed him like he saw a ghost. “Man, what the hell? You gonna carry groceries in those bags under your eyes?”
Soap, who couldn’t sleep because of a mind so fucked up that kept showing him skulls and eyes and blood and everything bad, felt his eyebrow twitching. “No, it’s for your dead body if you don’t shut up and let me eat in peace and silence.”
Gaz made him a face while sitting across the table and put his tray on it. “I mean, we all had hell of a fight yesterday but it’s nothing new after 5 years in it and I sure hell am not looking like a mad scientist. And this is probably the first time you wanted peace and silence. Did something happen?”
Soap sighed into his breakfast. He didn’t know why a simple illusion threw him off like that. It was just for a millisecond and his mind was most llikely playing him games after a long day of fighting for his life. But something in that millisecond was keeping his mind busy and his heart heavy. After the first shock of a seeing… ‘someone’ in his mirror, that fear changed into discomfort. Like he had to do something but he couldn’t and it kept him awake at night. He was feeling very dumb for it. Also saying shit like ‘I saw someone in my mirror last night’ in army was a sure way of kicked out.
“Nothing happened. Just tired. Couldn’t sleep.” Gaz didn’t buy it, Soap could see but he couldn’t care less. Before any of them even breathed, they heard Price’s call for them. “Soap, Gaz. Follow me.”
Soap’s mind was occupied but he finally finished what Price wanted –paperwork. And more paperwork. He was actually glad for it, he finally let his thoughts scatter around and picked them up back when he was done. Soap gathered the papers and head for the door but something on the window stopped him. He faced the window, the sun was setting and the orange sky was reflecting on the glass. But it was not the scenery that caused him to stop and look. It was something on the glass -someone. That same face he saw the night before on his mirror was there again and this time he actually stared at it. Then the image disappeared like it came, in no more than a second he was looking at an ordinary window again. Soap’s fists was clenched around the papers. This time the face was there longer than before and he actually stared at the skull. Hell, they locked eyes. In his brain, there was a war going on now: He was seeing things because he was going mad or he was seeing things… because. And he didn’t know which one was worse.
Soap went straight for the bed after that, didn’t even waved back to his friends. His mind was somewhere else and his eyes were unfocused, he only realized he was back at his room when he reached to the door. He muttered to himself. “What is my problem?”
“Me?”
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