FOR THE THOUSANDTH FUCKING TIME SAYING THAT SOMEONE IS QUEER IS NOT FUCKING IMPOSING A SEXUALITY OR GENDER

I feel like I'm a bad feminist, a fake feminist because my family doesn't let me wear the clothes I want while going out from home. I have to either fucking ask for permission or have a huge ass argument just to wear what i want and I feel like I d o nt have control over my own body that I'm not the owner of my own body that I'm 2 fucking 1 years old and I still have to deal with this shit and I want to cry and scream and punch something

I'm walking around the house braless and my grandma was whining about it and I asked her - in a very jokey/teesy tone - why she had a problem with it when I didn't, and that it was my body anyway, she was like I don't like you staying here, what about that then - what will you say to that. And I'm so fucking angry and upset and so, so done. I hate adults. I hate adults. I hate adults. They're insensitive, cruel and self centered.

I was fourteen when I first read 50 Shades of Grey, or as Catherine Scott puts it — that book. What I appreciate most about it is not the spank-bank material it gave me, but the world it introduced me to; the hole that took me to my own wonderland. As my kink journey - in theory, mind you - progressed, I discovered aspects of myself I don’t think even therapy would’ve helped me access; the way I needed to be loved, the way I needed to be taken care of, the way I needed to feel small to grow, the way I needed to give myself over to reclaim autonomy.

Kink took me to regression, regression to self-awareness, and self-awareness to a yearning I sometimes cannot contain inside my body because of how large and all-consuming it is, how much space it occupies, and how it swallows me whole, especially on my worse days.

The question “how could non-sexual kink possibly be therapeutic?” has many, many answers; it is the hope I get when I imagine how I would no longer have to be responsible for myself; the relief I feel, knowing that someone wants the best for me, and letting them take over my entire being would help keep me alive; the knowledge that even though I am capable of taking care of myself, it is too much of a burden, too much of a leach sucking my battery, and so I choose to give it away, pass it over.

Someone who would squeeze my thigh, and tap it twice to indicate I need to lower my voice in public spaces, instead of an explicit “reduce your volume”, inadvertently triggering my rejection sensitivity dysphoria; someone who would wrap me up in a blanket and make me tea, cuddling me, crushing my body, until I come back from an episode; someone to make sure I can do the things I want to do, that inhibition due to my executive dysfunction wouldn’t make me a completely useless person; someone whose idea of what is best for me is my idea of what’s best for me; someone who would take care of me, when it hurts too much to take care of myself; someone I trust enough to kneel in front of because I feel shame choking me when I imagine myself submitting to anyone else; someone who chooses to stay; someone I can be a child with without fear of annoyance or judgement; someone I can be awkward with, weird with, loud with; someone whose rationality never hinders or limits their emotionality; someone to give me a healthy alternative to the unsafe pain my coping mechanism provides; someone to provide the sensation of hurt without causing me harm; someone whom I feel safe with even while constrained, blindfolded, all senses switched off; someone to gently squeeze my neck when my thoughts are too loud; someone to take over conversations when I face a sudden bout of energy loss; someone whose energy is dominating, all-encompassing; someone who would be my advocate, my shield, and sword; someone gentle, someone soft, someone who would never let me give up on myself.

Regression ≠ kink, for myself.

-kpm ©

TW : MENTION OF SUICIDE

Do you also conjure up scenarios of you dying of suicide in multiple different ways and draw out how you're going to inform people and how they're going to react/feel and basically draw out a whole ass novel up in your head when you're feeling down and then once the story's done up in there, feel better and go live life monotonously like before the tiny breakdown or do you have good mental health?

SOML :-

get drunk to feel stuff ➡ feel understimulayed when no company ➡ experience a low ➡ breakdown

Scenario 2

get drunk to feel stuff ➡ company equals happy happy kiddo ➡ company goes away, chronic boredom ➡ impulsive stuff is done ➡ feel nothing the next day cuz no emotions

It's all support people with ADHD until they-- act "irresponsibly", ask for "special treatment", exhibit "difficult" symptoms.

It's all support people with BPD until they--act "immature", are "too sensitive", "unnecessarily emotional"

And so much more that I don't have the energy to list.

Fuck this shit.

me, thinking: *don't say it, don't say it, istg if you say it-*

my family: "it's for your own good, we're only thinking about what's best for you"

me: *control, deep breaths, control, deep breaths, control, deep brea-*

family: "if we didn't care about you, we wouldn't say all this to you"

me: *BOOM* *EXPLOSION*

PLEASE STOP GIVING A SHIT ABOUT ME IF THAT'S THE REASON FOR Y'ALL TO SAY INSENSITIVE, CONTROLLING BULLSHIT

Um I'm a bad person, like, a really bad person. I'm rude with my mom and I don't even know why or if it's a defense mechanism or if it's something I'm just used to or whatever, but I don't even know and I feel guilty when she buys me stuff cUse I'm still not "nice" and I feel like I Dont deserve anything she does fit me and I don't kmoe and I can't show appreciation or gratitude because I'm fucking emotionally blunted when it comes to her and I feel like I'm this person she wastes time effort money and love on and that I deserve to die and that my mom wouldn't have so many conflicts and other emotional issues anymore cause I'm the cause, direct or indirect, for all that. And today I didn't wanna go back to my dad's house cause we'd come here only a few days ago and I knew we'd stay here at my mom's house only for a few days cause I had to go back to college soon so I asked her a week ago if we could come tjen but she said no and today I was pissed cause of that cause I knew this would happen I knew it and I told her I wasn't going today and after some arguing she agreed and she told my dad she couldn't drive cause she had a headache and a stomach ache and I couldn't help but think that it was because of me because I didn't wanna yo back today and what if the universe had listened to me and caused that and it was cause of that that Ammi actually did have aches its all my fault my fault my fault and I can't help thinking about deayh and stuff and feeling anxious and feeling lole I wanna cry and rn my only solace is that if any of my loved ones that then I have suicide as an option then and I know it's so fucking problematic and just wrong but that's the only thing that makes me not have a complete mental breakdown over such thoughts and I don't even know why my heads like this and guvk I wish I could get better

told my mom my therapist said she's getting more solid proof to confirm ADHD and my grandma mentioned that a cousin had ADHD didn't he, and I said he has ADD - she asked what that is, I said attention deficit and my mom made a joke saying oh you need more attention, not getting enough attention - and I snapped at her and slammed my tea cup down on the table and yelled about how I've told her that I don't like jokes like that and why she can't seem to understand that and then stormed off, and she felt Sad I know and she was alll like it's a joke, can't I make a joke now and my grandma was like isn't there freedom of speech now and they're both upset with me I think (but in my defense I've told them MULTIPLE times how I hate jokes like that) - still can't help feeling embarrassed a bit tho

I'm sick of people.

Louis and Harry are together.

Louis is queer.

Harry is queer.

They're not out in the sense that they literally said so but it's even if you think Larry isn't real, Harry and Louis as two seperate individuals are both queer which is obvious in the way they're throwing out signs hinting at left and right, hoping people see/hear them.

Due to the whole Policeman movie debacle, I'm going to be talking about Harry here. In a hypothetical world if Harry weren't actually queer (trans/not-straight), then it'd mean he'd been queerbaiting with all his jokes/hints/insinuations about gender and sexuality (non-cishet vaala). Which would make him a problematic celebrity on so many levels I can't even begin-- Which would in turn make y'all ignorant deniers red flags because you'd still stan him if he's queerbaiting like this. BUT, FORTUNATELY, from what we know of Harry, he's not a grade A asshole, which means there 0.000001% he's queerbaiting, and so what does that mean my dear kids? THAT'S HE'S FUCKING QUEER, NOW STFU.

Okay, now that that's over and done with. I completely, totally understand why the gp (general public) is upset at Harry, because to them, Harry is this White cishet guy who's playing the role of a gay man, but has never claimed to be queer, to people who don't really know Harry, that's the image they might be getting and I understand where they're coming from, which breaks my heart, but I get their pov. On the other hand, strict gatekeeping makes the community a not-safe space for people who're questioning, and for people who're not blatantly out and open - like Harry isn't, even tho he has given many signs hinting at him not being cishet, and forcing him out of the closet is a huge ass nah nah.

If you disagree with AOTA (except for the Larry part cause I unfortunately can't force people into believing in H&L ka love) feel free to fuck off.