witcheart: (Default)
Just deleted my rapist from facebook.  -siiiiiigh of anxiety and relief-  Last time I did this was a year ago and I got a bunch of angry/terrifying texts and phone calls and voice messages, which I don't think will happen this time (last time it was right after me publicly calling him a rapist, this time I don't think he'll even notice.)  I've given up on trying to hold him accountable, I've given up on trying to get my friends from back home to give a fuck, and god damn, I don't need to see how all of them love him, and how he's dating ANOTHER one of my friends, and how he just bought himself a fucking car.

I'm done I'm done I'm done.

I'm dying my hair red (brown red, not like bright red.)  Body modifications, even small ones like this, have been super important to me since middle school.  It's part of a process of regeneration, it's a cathartic purity ritual that helps me feel like I have a chance at a fresh start, helps me feel like I can make change in my life and heal old wounds that won't stay closed, and the new ones that form every day.  Even after defending these processes for years and years (to my mom and ~special snowflake~ haters) I still don't really have the words to articulate what it means to me, except that I'm doing it and it makes me feel better.


witcheart: (Default)

May 2012

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