Ke$ha - Sleazy HQ Lyrics + Download

i wish this had come to me faster.

maybe the moral higher ground
ain't as high as it seems
maybe we are both good people
done some bad things
i just hope it was okay
i know it wasn't perfect
i hope in the end we can laugh
and say it was all worth it
cuz i have had something to prove
as long as i know something
that needs improvement
and you know that everytime i move
i make a woman's movement
and first you decide what you've gotta do
then you go out and do it
and maybe the most that we can do
is just to see eachother through it

he used you, he used your dead sister

'will you take the needle off the table?"

'YES!'

i do not want to die, but i do want to be killed.
when i am feeling my fucking heart leek from my between my legs - i shrink a bit.
And i dread turning the corner because everyone hates me--
like the way their heads turn into light bulbs to inspect me.
and if it wasn't for the death penalty - you'd fear me.

Can you prove it, jim?

I haven't written about myself in a long time. I've been focusing a lot on getting miranda through her masters, poetry, and emotional care. This week my therapist asked me who makes me feel like myself. I am often uncomfortable around people and with the last 2 yrs of my life being extremely isolating i cannot remember the last time i was okay in a group.

I cannot stop listening to the mamas and the papas lately. i have always loved them - but it seems , now, i am back in that place where i first met them. they keep me sane!
(except for the fact that the lead dude was sexually abusing his daughter the WHOLE time and she ended up on VH1 Dr. Drew celebrity rehab. insane)

 List o' loves:
Miranda
olivia
cathy
Steve
becca
john
Richie
maria
bessie
susie
lex
jess
maddox
-- these people love me. care for me. trust me. and let me trust them. they're love love love and i want to spend more time loving them back!

I am def missing a close friend right now. trying not to be paranoid. i love her, just hope she sees how much i care and that i only want to continue our friendship, not end it<3 love.

I saw Robyn for the first time in YRS last weekend. It was magical. i have missed her, and i am sorry i ever removed her from my life. what blinders i had on. She is a beautiful friend and i love her dearly. I trust her with me love and life. It feels good to be okay with all this security. Usually i am skeptical of anyone who wants to love me.

Okay, so i am working on a new piece. hopefully it will be out by this weekend.

The warrior garden

the marigolds that grow out from under your finger nails really distract me.
you force my head steady - but with a gentle cradle.
there are a thousands pieces of glass in my pocket that i swore to wear as armor. as goosebumps. as a mirror when i saw you.
i even hold some pieces under my tongue- to make sure you can't steal from me.

And the floor is covered in calla-lilies - they're swamping under my feet.
around your neck are a sea of razor blades. fanning and flaring like a ring of feathers

slowly - you lead me to an open space between the drowned flowers. i lay down - almost willingly.
laying back i open my mouth wide. you lean down, ghoulishly and funnel the thousands of pieces of glass from my pocket.

my throat is glowing. - and i choke them all down.
next came the blade, which was not so easy.

opening YOUR mouth you lift a blade from beneath your tongue - and place it under mine.
slicing away - you finally get me to shut the fuck up.

White cannibalism.!

In 2003 a new edition of Equiano’s interesting narrative was released with a slight yet extremely significant difference: Rapper and entrepreneur Jay-z graced the novels cover. Jay-z, a critically acclaimed artist, is distanced from both the subject and author of the work – but only literally. Metaphorically Jay-z and Equiano have attained similar goals. Equiano’s work is noted as an abolitionist text; a text that adamantly supported the abolition of slavery and advocated  black peoples freedom in Western Europe and the America’s. Jay-z’s Black Album creates an identical impact. While Jay-z is not writing for the physical abolition of slavery, as it was abolished in 1833 (1865 in north America), his work advocates for the deconstruction of black images that have become essentialized mythologies.

 Jay-z’s Black Album, a play on the Beatles White Album, brandishes a fourteen song collection of politically charged rap music. In his song Moment of Clarity Jay-Z discusses the importance of his “truth” as an American black man. He begins his song by “thanking god” for the clarity to both see the true world and expose it. He states that this “moment of clarity” is both a gift and a curse, given that he can see the worlds errors but it also plagued by them. Jay-z writes “The music business hate me cause the industry ain't make me. Hustlers and boosters embrace me and the music i be makin’. I dumb down for my audience and double my dollars. They criticize me for it, yet they all yell "Holla". If skills sold, truth be told, I'd probably be lyricly: Talib Kweli.” (Jay-Z. Moment of Clarity). Jay-z uses this verse in the song to expand on how the “business” resents him. He traces this resentment to the fact that the industry did not create him, and furthermore that he differs from the pre-packaged images of black people the “business” pumps out. He goes on to talk about making his music more accessible. He mentions that he “dumb[s] down” his lyrical content for the audience and in turn makes more money. This audience he speaks of is presumably a white audience because both ownership and consumption of rap is statistically at its height among young white men. In the last line where Jay-z cites that if rapping skills mattered he would be equivalent to the superiority of Talib Kweli, he brings attention to many significant points. For one he exposes the fact that rap is not considered a legitimate form of music by writing “if” at the beginning of his last thought. “If” signifies an alternate universe; something that is pre-verbal. That which is referenced through “If” has not happened, and in this case is an inescapable reality. The reality that Jay-z is referring to is one where rap is not considered a skill, but if it were he would be comparable to a Talib Kweli. Talib Kweli, because he considered (alternative) hip hop, does not fall under the same white surveillance as Jay-z.  Alternative hip hop is stigmatized as the talented 10th version of a perceivably inferior original form of music in black society, but through white perception. 

In a more popular cut from his album, 99 Problems, Jay-z details specificity of problems black men face in American culture. Jay-z writes:
The year is '94 and in my trunk is raw. 

In my rear view mirror is the mother fucking law.

I got two choices yall pull over the car or bounce on the double put the pedal to the floor. 

Now I ain't trying to see no highway chase with jake plus I got a few dollars I can fight the case. 

So I...pull over to the side of the road and I heard "Son do you know why I'm stopping you for?" 

Cause I'm young and I'm black and my hats real low, do I look like a mind reader sir, I don't know. 

Am I under arrest or should I guess some mo? 

"Well you was doing fifty five in a fifty four. License and registration and step out of the car. Are you carrying a weapon on you I know a lot of you are" I ain't stepping out of shit all my papers legit. 

"Do you mind if I look round the car a little bit?" 

Well my glove compartment is locked so is the trunk and the back and I know my rights so you gon' need a warrant for that. 

"Aren't you sharp as a tack are some type of lawyer or something? Or somebody important or something?" Nah I ain't pass the bar but I know a little bit enough that you won't illegally search my shit. 

"We’ll see how smart you are when the K-9's come". I got 99 problems but a bitch ain't one. Hit me  --(Jay-z, 99 Problems).

This quote opens expounds upon the black male experience. Jay-z writes about being stopped by the police and after being asked if he knew why he was stopped brazenly answers “[be]cause I’m young, black, and my hat is low…” Jay-z is referencing that young black males, fitting a list of criteria, are often stopped by police, and that subsequently young black men are reduced to an essentialist consumable portrait. The portrait being “consumable” because it fits the rubric of the primitive, dangerous, black demon construction. Jay-z moves forward to discuss the absurdity of black male perceptions. He talks about the officer asking if he’s carrying and weapon, and before he can answer filling in the blank with “I know a lot of you are.” Here, Jay-z is exposing how white people consume images to black people to the point where they transfer everything to fact. The use “I know” at the beginning of the officers sentence signifies certainty, thought logically he cannot be sure. However it is not logic driving the officers thought process; it is a perception – a mythology. The reason this pathology becomes widely accepted is because of the legacy of blackness being represented as “dangerous” and constantly in reference to hell. One of his last thoughts on the issue is a detailed conversation between the officer and young black male. The young black male is trying to relay that he has no drugs, weapons, or alcohol – that he has done nothing wrong. The officer takes this as mocking and retorts “we’ll see how smart you are when the k-9’s come” asserting his authority and affirmation that the black male was breaking the law. Jay-z bravely asserts this collection of black male experiences as fact. He makes it a point to detail the consequences of a consuming – or rather cannibalistic white culture.

The work of black writers is highly aware of its consumable contexts. Equiano’s narrative and Jay-z’s album both engage in, with, and assert, a cancerous wave of white consumption. What they are both doing is inverting the stereotype that black people – or demons – will eat and consume you. The descriptions of literal threats of being consumed, as displayed in Equinao’s narrative, are mirrored in Jay-z’s metaphorical descriptions of being consumed through his music. The two men aim to invert and destabilize the black “cannibal” mythology. They do so by turning that critique back onto white society and pointing out the obvious ways that white people are the ultimate consumers – and thus cannibals in their own right.

untitled

It was me who broke your neck in 15 places.
YES, it was me. and now i have mars bars under my nails.

digging. i keep on digging.
if i could just bring you. UP. we, meaning me and athena will have a shot.

its really fucking cold. and there's mud in my shoes. but we never said goodbye.
the dirt. the particles are rotting my teeth - that I'm baring at your name on the stone.

i'm a little closer now - wiping away dust to see a hinge.
my hands tremble behind me. resurrecting to my knees. and neo-bending my back. i recharge and bring down the wrath of an axe.
crazily, i destroy your coffin. your pine box. your space shuttle.

and in the settled dust and fingernails. below the shards of splintered wood and burly bones is you.
your ears big as the day light.

i kneel. and wrap my hands around your disheveled flesh. i bring you up to my neck, arms, lips.
slipping my mouth past you i whisper "father?"

its so hard to recognize you now.

Abigail

Abigail, the monster in you is bleeding through your nose.
eye. ears. mouth.
and you are crawling towards me. long pencil like fingers scratching the floor as they surge for my throat in the daylight.
this hospital hallway panics me to "get clean!" - not from sins, but apologies.
then i look at you - coming. seizing in my direction. your blue dress riding past your thigh to expose a slip.
and who exactly made wealth slither?
who put you on your belly - begging?
your sudden flatness frightens me. the pause. the thud. the stiffness.
just a vitruvian woman etched into the pure white linoleum - whose body was never her own. what she wanted or who.
But they, the men - will take your dead body and make you a star.

I went to a random cemetery yesterday. Olive and i were walking around, looking at the grave stones. And then i realized where i was and my eyes began to well-up. I have no been to my grandmother, grandfather, cousin, or friends grave since any of them died. My friend being dead only like 2 weeks now and i completely avoided the funeral and such.

i was so moved just standing on that ground. i have always thought cemetaries were beautiful, misunderstood places.

Mandy: Jr's, Cliffs, Mine, and Ours.?

Mandy Winger is CERTAINLY one of my favorite Dallas characters. Not only does she up the level of disgust Sue ellen has for JR (which mind you is the healthiest thing for her)  or that Mandy is also the name of my fav person EVER (Mandy Moore) - she also lasts, and so you are able to identify her as a secondary character. 

Mandy starts out as an alibi for cliff - to prove he didn't shoot and blind bobby (people i tell you, this show is amazing.) this is like the millionth time bobby's been shot because of JR's dirty deals and a long list of enemies. She tries to be Cliffs gf for a while until she slowly begins to realize that he is verbally and emotionally abusive, self centered, arrogant, obsessive prick. All he does and can care about is beating JR, himself, and making his dead daddy proud? uhh, ok Cliff.  So Mandy moves onto JR - which i cant say is any better since i am SURE that character of JR is meant to be a sociopath. He has no clear identifiable emotions and he also has only one mission: Making Ewing Oil the best and keeping it that way. Women come and go, they do not seem to phase him much. His character is definitely built on the misogynist principle that all women are there for you, all the time, to do whatever you like. So when he gets sick of Sue ellen, or rather sue ellen figures out he fucking around on her and stands her ground, he just moves on, picks another.

Part of what fascinates me so much about the show is that it sticks with itself. It doesn't back down - of course they give EVERY character a 3d moment, or some fourth dimension of being. But they do NOT negate facts. For example, in Season 8 they show some softer parts of JR, i do believe he was in love with Mandy. And so we began to see him being a little more open, ACTUALLY looking what could be describe as hurt, or maybe just caught off guard by the random flaring up on emotions. But they never cease to keep JR as he is: the biggest ass hole in the universe. EVER.

I LOVE Dallas and im into converts. I think its the smartest show I've ever seen, and so id like to discuss it with smart ppl (aka all my friends). So i think ill keep track of episodes from now on. I may start with season 3 and need to do a little background, but anything possible in.....Texas? ha. ya, the show is set in RICH Texas. They have a maid named Theresa and a butler named Raul. everything about it is just so deliberate and telling.

Plan C [Stop Caring]

If water was wine it would be coating my throat. I would be- tossing, throughing the bottle into my mouth.
then i would laugh laugh laugh and watch purple rain spill
i'd throw my arms up in hopes of being abducted - and swirl in circle to force the up chuck
i notice, when i see pictures of you, i want to go blind
i was thinking toothpicks in each corner to keep my eyes steady, and to keep them filled
staring, i beg the beat to stop pushing me
but i am on overdrive - and it will come out now
(my animal)
the one that i reluctantly shove under agreeing, smiling politely, taking bullshit, being funny, being understanding, even being respectful - toooo.

and in all of this there is a you, and a coma on my back.


 see, i think i like that you're poison - - cause then you can bury me

Today i did it again. Mistakes. I just don't believe in them, for me. And when i make one [ which i always manage to do even after years of training] - - i release hell.

this wont go unnoticed.

stuck between two lungs

morning. and im up on the roof top makiing sure the rain stops.
face down, and how the fuck did i get here?
my cheeks, swollen with whiskey, are planted against that glass. against that sun roof, for anyone to see.
my hair is not blowing in the wind or porn wet and matted. its tough, tangled and damaged by weather.
my clothes are torn. mostly in the knees, from crawling to you, for you, about you.
I use my weak arms to plunge myself towards concrete, solidity.
[SLAM] the back of my skull hits the ground, and a red river runs through it. mixing with the rain it looked so fake.
did i jump from my window?
It is now my mission. my duty to die on my back here
to let the blood run
to slam my skull
and it will be your duty to pick up my bones. wash them clean, and use them to pick your teeth.
you did always say you'd find use for me.

oh! theres kendall. good to see you, sir

i am learning new lessons everyday.
#1 dont be myself. k.rrrrrr. fuck.
#2 shut my mouth.
#3 keep my eyes to the floor
#4 only speak when spoken to. ding!

how lucky am i?

So i'm already onto Dallas season 8 (again) and it is the one that resonates with me the most. Its the second time we see a battle for Ewing oil. and it gets rough. But i am lucky to be watching, because really - i trust tv characters and learn more from them than anyone else.

congrats

I don't know what to say except: i earned it.

atomic bombs go off in winter

"Uggg the lights flickered again," Miranda gnarled through her teeth.

Even though we drove through the rain storm if didn't seem as serious as it was going to become. Finally after flickering a few times the lights went out for good. (Blackout) And in the dark i stumbled, looking for something to create light. There was nothing - and so the typical blackout behavior began. Board games. Drinking. Sex. Drugs. I fell asleep in the pitch blackness, afraid of nothing for the first time in years.

The next day saw no changes - in fact it was worse. After downing three bottles of wine, playing with endless amounts of glow sticks, and freezing in the NH winter with no heat we decided to make this day investigative. Miranda went off to check for power on campus. She came back with news.
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" So, the deal is that the lib HAD power, but doesn't anymore. I don't have work. And the lamprey river is overflowing - - like an ocean." Miranda's eyes were huge - widened by familiarity.

Roads were closing. and the water was touching the street. The waterfall was fierce and powerful, giving energy i didn't know it had to give.
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The next day was short lived. I was so depressed and anxious that Miranda and i sat in her car for most of the day. I watched The real housewives on my ipod - Miranda read her homework. I also finished an entire bottle of wine. Swaying on my feet, and laughing much too loud in such a small space.
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When the lights came back i was fucking drunk - hopping and skipping through the house. "AH! shit, powers on!" I screamed. It couldn't have happened more perfectly because i was just thinking how I'd like to see things clearer. Once the power was back Miranda, Olivia, and I ran around turning on power strips and plugging in items that needed charging. My phone had been dead the whole time so my first instinc was to wake it up. I did, and then wished i didn't
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I fell into my fucking trash can, slid down the wall, and landed without hope. "I dont know all the details but ramone was shot and killed. I thought you should know!" a text, on my phone. I wasn't sure i was screaming until i felt my heart shaking in my chest. I was screaming in the faces of my roommates. Olivia perched at the end of the bed, and miranda knelt by my side. My face was leaking all over me. Every tear felt like hell. And then i realized, i had to tell my mother. Which was a dreaded thing. My mother and i have an problem - we tend to only exchange painful information when we speak- if we speak at all.

Her first words "I wish they never told you that. you're so sensitive."  "But mom," I quaked through my tears
"he was standing at the bus stop, shot on his way to work and then still don't know if it was robbery or mistaken identity." She shuttled me off the phone with a completely different topic, im sure we wont discuss it again.
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His house was identical to and walking distance from mine. Growing up we used the same bus stops, corner stores, and walking routes. And now another boy is dead - full of bullet holes and bleeding where we used to laugh.

if i have to bury one more black man (physically or in my mind), i am going to scream.

i wish i was strong enough to write without titles

this is one of my favorite photographs of all time. If you like "Halloween" you'll understand why this is amazing.

and ya know. i never thought i'd say this but damn it feels good to be wrong :)

Thank you notes

"i feel like everyone is cutting me off from my emotions," i squealed, " why can't i feel what i want?" It took everything in my bones to say this to my therapist yesterday.

"You seem a little down today," said Rachael "Is something wrong?" I didn't know how to tell her what was in my head.

"Ya, i woke up from a bad dream. Was feeling weird. And lately I've had some things on my mind - things that are hard to forget or put away because the impact was so huge. I want my life back!" And as Rachael sat and listened she learned more about me. She learned that i cant stand injustice - no matter how small. I spoke like i knew my feelings, like i knew right from wrong. I uncovered what has been plaguing me and disrupting me: i live a lie

My feelings about the past 3 years of my life are no big secret. I have mentioned it thousands of times as the worst years I've experience since my fathers death. I find myself always dreaming of those years - frightening dreams, night terrors. I dream of my death that was only social and symbolic in life. And i live my life as a lie. It is fake. I am forced to be fake. Close friends want me to get over it and just move on. Other people i can't even talk to because of their own affiliations. and the rest are blind. It forces me into a place of grave digging - - for me and my voice.

"Can i ask...was that when you came out?" Rachael asked the most frightening question.
"I...i think so. I hate to think about it. It makes me feel gross."
"And why's that?" Rachael said. "Because it went so badly" I uttered, "All i can associate is Ava is queer = bad! Even if that's not what it was that's how it came off. How else do you make sense of losing everything under those circumstances?"

i do not think anyone realized the impact of that. Of overshadowing my coming out with.... (this).

i want to send thank you notes - - because my rage is strong now. And i bless myself for being an angry woman

you don't know someone till you work with them

every time i see you living a seemingly normal-happy life, i die a bit. It makes me so sick that you get that freedom - and that you stepped on my life to get it. The old pain is latent now - its the new pain that flares up unexpected. sneaky. and without remorse.

I find myself thinking so hard, about what i DID and DIDN'T do. And it used to be about salvation, ya know. WHY couldn't i save my friendships, relationships, friends. But now, its about revenge or maybe even just bitterness. And I've come to realize bitterness is not the worst, and even  better its none of anyones business what i feel. I can talk for days about how i feel, but no one and i mean NO ONE has the right to comment on it. my blog, my rules. my mouth, my rules. my terrible horrible abusive imprinted and painful college experience. my fucking rules. 

Rachael has only heard pieces of this. pieces. when she hears me rant about it, eyes wide and glistening, waiting for the first tear to drop- she'll understand my obsession. When something pierces this deep its hard to ignore, get over, or move past. And besides anyone who wants me to do that (without realizing the complexity) is probably not my friend and not a respectful person. You cant erase trauma - it comes from the greek word for wound. its a wound. and sadly, there's no meds for it. its just festering and getting infected. I wish i could heal it. but then i don't. If it was healed how would i explain myself? How would i explain the me that was birthed from that HORRIBLE experience? I wouldn't know how.

I used to worry that my words would start a war, but i really don't care anymore. No one who was involved with these feelings care for me, so why should i care what my words might mean to them. its over, its been over. I have to express myself somehow - and i can't wait for people to see me like i want them too, cause they see me how they want. even if its wrong and possibly offensive. No. i deserve to express myself. i do, i earned it. I didn't get the chance before my life went up in flames and has since been 'under construction'.

i want my life back. but it's not there anymore.  and i have done EVERYTHING i could to get it back. i graveled, i degraded myself, went into the lions den and let them tare me apart, died, lived, apologized, and tried will everything i had. But its still gone and ive had to move forward without it.

i have a right to my feelings, don't i? or as a woman, a black woman, a queer...should i shut the fuck up, bow down, and let this eat me alive(again!)?

I NEVER talk about my coming out experience. it stays hidden and buried.  it breaks my heart to remember it. infact, i'm not sure i do.  All i can remember now is feeling something i wish i didn't. I have wished thousands of times i never embraced who i was. i wish i had ignored it.

she sleeps in green

OKAY, nh. Cool your heels on the weird weather. One day it snows, then the next morning its sunny and i barely need a coat. tooo crazy for me.

My friends came to visit this weekend. It's been great. I felt normal, and like im not what i've had drilled into my head these past few years. I haven't felt dangerous, rude, like a bully, violent, evil, slutty or anything. Just...me. And i thank them both for allowing me to be myself and understanding that the core of me is not the same person who reacts to VERY stressful situations with violence and rage. And they're both black, so they more than anyone ive met here can understand how the violence and rage is secondary when you're from where im from. It is inevitable, and only the privileged can even begin to feel above violence. I saw 'Shutter island" this weekend with richie and liz - they talked a lot about violence in the film. Something like "the only thing that matters in the world is my violence and yours. god loves violence, or there wouldn't be so much of it!" DING! My thoughts exactly, i think violence is all we have. It's the backbone of our need to survive. Kill or be killed - - its just that some of us have already had to use it to survive while others get to imagine what violence would be like. And pass judgment on it anyway. fools.

Miranda and i. we're...something. But i alone, am crazy. Whenever things are going really well for us (which is most of the time) i freeze up and dissolve. I often feel she is too good for me, too perfect, too alive. She is not afraid the way i am of the tiniest earthquake. She stands next to me , always, and holds my hand. WHEN did i become this person? WHEN did i become someone who is loved? It is SO fucking uncomfortable, i feel like im in a bodice. The breath, the life, strangled out of me. But she is always there and never gives up on me. The other day i realized that all those reality shows i like about vying for the love of some semi-star is what i experienced at UNH. "For the love of Miranda". And as i keep working on that movie script about the joys and DESTRUCTION of 2 years of my college experience - i think ill have to work that idea in. Because everytime i think about it i laugh so much to myself. So many bodies, blood, and souls for nothing - for no love. for the love thats mine. silly.

Sometimes when i realize how ppl use the internet - like blogs and facebook i vomit in my mouth. When you realize that the internet is only for the intention of alienating ppl, making ppl feel left out, exercising power over ppl through friending, defriending, blocking, and only showing a little of your profile - its sooo sad. I understand not wanting EVERYONE to know EVERYTHING about you - but like, what is there to hide? and from whom? I admit my profile isn't completely visible -but it mostly is. If you're my friend, in the same network, or a friend of a friend you can see my shit. IDC, i got nothing to hide. Besides isn't it a SOCIAL NETWORKING site - how can you involve yourself in either if you're so fucking obsessed with secrecy, and hiding.  I think about this a lot because as someone who has abused and been MONSTROUSLY abused through the internet i know how dangerous of a tool it is. I think we all need to practice a little more peace and moving on. I'm working on my end - but with little help its an (almost) dead end.

but face to face is different. face to face the same callousness is not there. only avoidance, only (again) hiding. the internet is too easy to wage war from - its too plain.

I am at the front doors of a huge transition. i can feel my bones quaking. I WANT OUT! And within this transition im looking at "friends" with lots of excavation. I have been in the process of emotionally distancing myself from those who're poison to me. And also, im onto the "friends" that don't really give a fuck and are just acting. UM, ya... i got you. I am sickkkk of being the one who does all the work in all my friendships. I GIVE and give, and all i get back are stares, confusion, confrontation, and irritation. ah. It takes a fucking army for me to get any correspondence that isn't promoted first. annoying. And i cant even remember the last time anyone had ANY respect for the things i like. It's so easy to make fun of fall out boy, dallas, dynasty, old horror movies, music from the 70's and back, lady gaga, tori amos, mandy moore, etc. TOO easy. REALLY. we're friends? I have NO friends that have ever asked to sit down and watch dallas without having to give an hour presentation with fucking charts and billboards about why i like it. NEWS: if you like me, you respect what i like. otherwise. GO! I do not want anymore people who dismiss my likes as silly, violent, anti feminist, weird, rude, dumb etc. sick of it. You want anti feminist? oooo, i wont even go there. WAY too easy.

Now just come and love me like we're gonna die...

So many things ARE right now. I have lots of feelings. Lots.

That weird feeling, where it literally feels like your heart sunk into your stomach.  I feel like an ass hole. I feel like a fool - every time my trust is broken.

BUT i know the words "...guilt is a useless emotion" its pathetic and it doesn't solve anything. blah blah blah, well neither does ignoring it.

I have been feeling stronger lately. Those hateful feelings I've had for myself over the last 3 years is slowly fading. But not quick enough. Not when your life is a minefield of reminders that you were thrown away. Ah, yes, dispose of the black girl. she is a waste of our time. TRUTH!

i am getting terrified that the trauma is too deep. And i know that most would tell me to get over it, but then most people didnt wake up one day to find ppl ignoring them, talking shit in front and behind their backs, or people using their race to degrade them. Ya, when you go from having/trusting a group of women to being destroyed by their thinking, scheming, plotting, and destruction...we can talk. It's buried, but every now and then i see something that reminds me of that time and my wounds are completely reopened. i remember every word that was said, every glare, everything. i remember everything.

I LOST EVERYTHING! i didn't have a choice. i had to rebuild my whole fucking life because of that shit. And so forgive me, but i do not think its fair you didn't experience the same. I love how now that a few years have gone by suddenly everyones matured and almost wants to forget the past, ignore, and move on. I CANT fucking move on. My life was turned upside down. My sexual behaviors and preferences were on display. for ANYONE to judge.And now everyone wants peace? Well fuck you! i didn't get peace! 

But of course, as this usually goes for black women - - when you want to defend yourself, later or right then its considered childish and violent. When a blk women comes to defend herself she is taunted, and reminded of the things that were said before. Her enemies come with soft almost condescending tones that say things like "i wish you the best" and "i hope we can move past this with a clean slate" and "Lets just move on". I HATE those. It's a cop out. Translation: "i don't think i did anything wrong to you. you acted like a brute. i was defending myself - and i know you can control your primitive rage, but try. I've grown so much since overturning your life and i am no longer that person, so you cant blame me for what happened to you. lets just like it go--"

i guess i need more time...