Though, I'm Still Figuring Out Where I Am On The Spectrum I Felt Like I "found Myself" When I Read About

#current mood

Things like this make me think sexual attraction is a joke.

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

This is pissed off Dean because something just happened to Sammy

bloody!focused!driving af!dean || the family business promo

I feel very much the same way. I have a sad feeling that my friends will never know because the thought of non-sexual love will never cross their minds.

I want to be out but I don’t want to have to come out over and over again I don’t want people to question my sexuality when I tell them I’m ace I want the world to already know what asexuality is/what it entails and just have it be a chill, accepted thing I don’t want to be thought of as a freak or made fun of for not wanting sex

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.

Thank you beekeepercain for a great scene. It’s a lot like my own experiences. 

                      “So basically you just want me to shut up.”

                   “Basically I just want you to shut up and believe me.”

You need to find someone,” they say. “There is someone out there for you to make you happy!” They promise. “Look for your other half,” they chant. Am I half a person? Am I not enough as I am? Can I not depend on myself for my own happiness? I can enjoy music on my own. I can laugh and sing and dance on my own. “Poor thing, still alone?” They murmur. I don’t always want to be alone, you know. But I know I’m not incomplete. I am happy being who I am, and only I drive myself to be a better version of myself. I have found solace in the silence, and peace in my quiet thoughts. I wonder if the ones who beg me to find someone never had that, and I am sorry for them.

finish-the-hat-george (via wnq-writers)

Yes. I'm horrible with this.

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