I’m Really Loving This Mush Path. Gonna Switch To Pumpkins For Fall Soon.

You are not alone here. Check out acesovertwenty .

I really think I’m asexual. I’ve been wondering about it for years but i’m pretty sure of it now. I’m almost 21 and have never had any desire to have kiss anyone, let alone have sex, and other than harmless innocent celebrity crushes I’ve never had a crush on anyone, male or female. I don’t check guys out when i go out nor do i stalk them on facebook, insta, twitter, etc. I see couples holding hands or kissing in public and don’t feel jealous at all. I’m very unattractive to say the least so avoiding relationships will never be an issue for me but i just wish asexuality was more talked about and recognised so that i wouldn’t feel so alone. I just wish I could talk to someone who’s going through the same things and who could give me advice on how to deal with being asexual and how to tell people about it without creeping them out

So I woke up this morning in a pool of my own blood. The

Wait, let me back up.

Hi, my name is Cara and I’m a 21 year old woman. Every 28 days, give or take, I have a period. And it fucking sucks. Today, was one of those where I take from the 28 day cycle. I wasn’t due for another period for at least a week, but considering that my period is pretty much permanently irregular, I get to wake up a lot of mornings in a pool of my own blood. Hmm. Lovely.

I then proceed to dump my sheets, my underwear, and my pajamas in my laundry room in a tub filled with cold water, with the hopes that this time I haven’t ruined them permanently.

What next? Well, a shower of course! To wipe off the smell of rotting blood from my body! Squeaky clean and towel fresh I have about a two minute window before the volcano of blood begins to erupt again from my vagina.

What will it be today? A piece of chlorinated toilet paper cardboard with a string that I get to shove up my hole wherein the blood will sit and rot until the next time I can shove another piece of chlorinated cardboard up the same hole? Or, a plastic lined toilet paper diaper attached to my underwear that causes rug burn to my vaginal area when I walk? Well the later requires less coordination, and it is early, so I guess I’ll be sitting in a period diaper today. The best ever.

Of course, I could always just get birth control, and lessen this whole shit. But 1) I can’t afford it 2) I can’t ask my dad to pay for it because, guess what? Just like the men who run my government, my father correlates birth control with sexual promiscuity! Thus, sitting on my rotting blood, undergoing severe cramps that have on more than one occasion caused me to black out, it is! (Not that birth control is such a walk in the park either, our bodies have to learn to deal with the hormones and other chemicals and consequences that birth control entails.)

Then, I get to go to class, where I have to pretend that I am not a leaky faucet of blood and tissue. I get to sit in Calculus, and if heaven forbid, I need an additional pad, I have to be discrete about it, so as not to offend the men’s gentle sensibilities to the fact that I am the one dropping tissues and blood from my body through my vagina.  

I once asked a male to take me to the pharmacy so that I could pick up (GASP) pads, or as we like to call it “feminine products” (again, so as not to offend the gentlemen’s overly sensitive natures) and had him equate me talking about my period to him talking about his erections.

ARE

YOU

FUCKING

KIDDING

ME

No.

This is nothing like your fucking erection’s. I don’t derive any enjoyment from this. I can’t mentally control any ounce of this entire process. I can’t masturbate my problem away. My period does not end in orgasm.

It stays. For at least five days in my case. Draining blood out of my body. Causing me severe cramps, making me irritable -not because I’m uncomfortable (which mind you, would be reason enough) - but because my hormones are all over the place, bloating me up to two sizes larger than I normally am, I have to actively fight not to smell like a fish market, and on top of that, you want me to be hush-hush about this? Because it’s icky for you?

And this is not an attack on that one man, this is an attack on ALL MEN who on top of sitting on their throne of gender privilege want me to stay quiet and be content about the fact that five days out of every month I get to undergo this happiest of joys.

And then, these very same men have the audacity to get annoyed because we don’t want to listen to their bullshit complaining about traffic? Or whatever other meaningless story they happen to tell us while our bodies are actively fighting against us? Then we get to be the butt of their tired-ass jokes? Sorry, I am most certainly not sorry.

I repeat NO. I say women come out of the period closet and say, “You know what, this happens to me. Every. Fucking. Month. And it’s terrible. LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT MY MORNING.” Because the truth is, if I live in a country where Viagra is covered by medical insurance, but birth control isn’t, I can no longer keep denying that I live in a country that is actively waging a war on women. And if I live in a country that is actively waging war on my sex, the least I am going to do is break patriarchal social propriety to inform anyone and everyone of the shit biological process I was BLESSED enough to be born into.

Hello, my name is Cara, I’m a 21 year old woman, and today I’m on my period. Let me fucking tell you about it.

always difficult for me

i wonder how aromantic people deal with loneliness

not just, you know, the standard loneliness where you feel like you need someone’s company

but the inherent “emptiness” associated with not being understood by a lot of people, or always never being first in your friends’ minds because they don’t see your friendship as better than their romantic relationships.

the loneliness associated with the general stigma against “not being able to feel anything”, not being able to fall in love and get married, not really, not like how others would want to experience some day.

of wanting people to just understand and acknowledge that you exist, that how you think and feel is valid, and you’re not any less of a person and should not be valued less just because you can’t feel the same way most people do.

that you need relationships too, and companionship, and to be loved. just not in the way most people feel, but that doesn’t make it any less of a need.

i wonder how aromantics are supposed to deal with all of this, honestly.

I was kicked out of my best friend’s wedding party and then the next week I was told I wasn’t allowed at the wedding. It’s been a year and haven’t spoken with her. Still not over it.

why does no one talk about how friends can break your heart so devastatingly intimately sometimes a million times worse than romantic partners why does no one talk about friend break ups

I bought a silicone ring from Knot Theory on Amazon. I abuse the hell out of my hands and I ruined six different rings until I found Knot Theory. They even come in different colors.

new ace and aro rings!! honestly i just want a whole bunch of different pairs to wear every day and alternate and stuff

made by wrapping old, tarnished, too big rings with embroidery floss. it does make them a bit smaller tho. these originally fit onto my thumb (i dont have very thick thumbs tho) and now theyre pretty much perfect on my middle fingers, plus the traction of the thread prevents them from falling down, although i have a feeling they might wear the inside of the surrounding fingers raw. oh well, ill see.

What Happened To Thor In "Avengers: Endgame"? https://www.buzzfeednews.com/article/jennaguillaume/avengers-endgame-fat-thor-chris-hemsworth-body-positivity?utm_term=.tlQkZy8Qpv#.tlQkZy8Qpv

Keep the flame going for those we have lost to suicide. 

Friend: *comes to me with romantic relationship problems*

Aro/ace me: *tries to remember everything i have learnt about relationships from fiction and tries to give useful advice*

Yes. I'm horrible with this.

do you ever FEEL yourself being annoying but you CAN’T stop