two little words became a rallying cry
a scream of solidarity
they’re louder than any “you’re not alone” could ever begin to shout
i look to my left, to my right
and see both hands being held by someone uttering those two words
hurts to hear
more than their hands, their mouth, their body ever could
i wouldn’t wish this pain on anyone else
not even my worst enemies
i wouldn’t ever want to hear another person say
is said far too often
by far too many
and it’s goddamn time we stop teaching how to dress
or how to stay safe
and start teaching that “no” means “no”
that nothing justifies violating another
that it should sicken and anger you to know how many people will say
are you listening to us?
do you hear what we’re saying?
are you saying it too?
and if you’re not
thank god for that
but i hope that means instead you’re saying
“enough is enough”
seeing as I cant post it on facebook
I wanted to make a #MeToo post but I can’t bring myself to share any details without feeling sick. If you shared your story today I’m proud of you. If you didn’t I’m still proud of you. Survivors are so fucking brave.
The Sad Thing Is
The sad thing is you probably don't even realize what you did. To you it was just another day. Sure, I was a little too quiet, a little too still, but that didn't matter. It was only because I never cared the way you cared about me. At least, that's what you told me. And yourself.
The sad thing is I felt guilty. It was my fault. I had failed you. You needed me so bad baby, and instead I panicked. I froze, I cried, I tried to scream for you to stop. I didn't help you, which means I didn't love you. Lucky for you that never stopped you, did it?
The sad thing is the first words I said were "I love you". Before the tears had even dried from my eyes, before the movement had returned to my body, I told you I loved you. Because you told me no one else would ever love me too, so I couldn't let you go.
The sad thing is that I didn't even know at first. I knew that day haunted me for months. I knew it sat there, an unrelenting weight on chest, never letting up, but that's just the way things were. You needed me and that was my job, who cares what I wanted? That's just how love works.
The sad thing is that I stayed. Even after that, even after I came up with the word that had been caught in my throat, holding back the air from my lungs, I stayed. Because you told me you'd die. Because you told me I would too, alone and unloveable, destroying everything good I'd ever touch.
The sad thing is I believed it. I believed it when you said you would die without me. I believed it when you said that I was the one killing you. Dead if I do and dead if I don't. You never considered maybe it wasn't your grave I was digging.
The sad thing is I'm not supposed to tell. You told me not to talk shit, but what am I supposed to do? You can't keep making me live a lie, and it's not my fault the truth is so shitty.
The sad thing is that I'm still scared. I'm still scared of your name, of your voice, of speaking up at all. I'm still scared that it "doesn't count" because you made me say I loved you.
The sad thing is that, thanks to you, I can say "me too".
If this ain't me
anyways time is fake and nothing is real i’m just living my life from one halloween to the next
I can’t believe they oblitered straight men like that
Gosh Dang It
Every time someone says "Gosh dang it" I like to imagine that somewhere in the universe there's just this off-brand God literally named Gosh and it is in fact his job to Dang™ things to Heck. Like this middle aged bald guy with a cheap fake beard wrapped up in an old tablecloth, and he lives with his son G-sus.
My approach to life at this point is pretty much the equivalent of when you're talking to someone and you have no idea what they said, so you laugh and hope it wasn't a question
Chapters: 1/1 (WIP)
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Original Female Character(s), Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/reader
Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader
Additional Tags: Abuse, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Violence, He is we, Song Lyrics, Song Inspired, Mild Language, Mild Blood, Mild Gore, Work In Progress
Series: Part 1 of He Is We Inspired
After finding the reader, beaten by her boyfriend, on the side of the road, Dean takes her back to the bunker. But when the reader decides she has to go back , can Dean convince her to stay? (Next update coming soon)
My first Supernatural fic, it’s not finished yet, but let me know what you think so far!
College got me like...
*Tries to scream into the void, but ends up just aggressively yawning*