ugh i unfriended her again whats wroong with me!
Don't fall for her, listen to your instincts.
wanna jerk off, any girls wanna see it? lets do on video chay, you can turn off your cam
I broke up with my ex about two years ago. We met a week ago and started chatting, one thing lead to another and we are back together. I guess taking time off was good for both of us
I love Australia so much <3
I'm so fucking glad that child rapists in prison are usually beaten up by other inmates
I’ve been holding on to my old beat down, cracked screen, 20 minute battery life iphone 5s strictly for this app. Please put it back on the app store so I can throw this thing away. I don’t remember my password so I can’t log in the browser version and it’s inconvenient. I love this app and the people on here... even the trolls
I think i may be 'too' salty for my own good...
I wish amd want to be taller. Sadly, I am in my twenties already and impossible now
I don’t know if anyone remembers that post I made near the end of March. March 25th. The one where I admitted that I had been sexually abused by my mother’s friend when I was 13, and I was completely freaking out because my mother had invited that same woman to stay at our house for a few days so that she could meet my step-brother. And I broke down and told my mom, after three years of having never told a living soul, that that woman had molested me, but she didn’t believe me and, in fact, she got mad at me for making up such a lie. So me and my brother left and spent the night at my boyfriend’s house because I couldn’t stand being around my mother or that woman and I didn’t want that woman to try to do anything to my brother like she did to me. That day sucked so much. But it was a long time ago. I try not to think about it. Ever. Because if I think about it too much I just know I’m going to break. But my mom and that woman still talk on the phone a lot. They’re best friends. My mom is best friends with the woman who sexually abused me. God, just writing that down sounds so bizarre, so insane, like it has to be some sick joke. Like it can't possibly be real. But it is. And it gets worse. A week ago they were talking on the phone. My mom and that woman. And they were talking about me, about the “hissy fit” I had the last time that woman came over, when I freaked out and left with my brother to my boyfriend’s house. My mom was laughing, completely hysterical as she and her friend recalled how “delusional” and “oversensitive” I had been that day. Not even caring that I was standing only a few feet away from her at the time. It was just soul-shattering to hear her say that, really. It brought everything back to me. All the memories I worked so hard to push away. All the things that fucking woman had done to me. And I haven’t been able to get them out of my mind. Not since I overheard her and my mom on that phone call. The first time that woman molested me- well, the first time she did it when I was awake, because I'm almost certain she did stuff to me while I was asleep- I fought her. I pushed her away, kicked her, tried to leave the room but she grabbed my arm and dragged me back to the bed. And then...when I didn’t stop fighting, she put a pillow over my face and pressed down on it with one hand so that I couldn’t breathe, and with her other hand she....well, you know. I was crying the entire time. I was suffocating and close to passing out because of the pillow in my face and she didn’t even care. It was, far and away, the most terrifying and humiliating thing in the world. And that was all it took. I never fought her again. Never resisted. Just went numb and didn’t move until it was over every time it happened because I was so afraid that she would suffocate me again. Even typing it out now, over three years later...it hurts. It hurts so much. It kills me, you know? That she would do something like that. Because I never did anything to her. I didn’t do anything to deserve that. I was just a kid. I was lucky that she didn’t do that every day, though. It was just every now and then...for five months. But it felt like longer. It felt like ten thousand years. I never ever got used to it. Each time was as awful and terrifying as the first. And everytime that she did it, I would go to bed highly suicidal. And since I heard the two of them on that phone call where they were laughing at me, I’ve had several nightmares related to the sexual abuse that wake me up either crying or wanting to cry. It’s just hard. I didn’t think something that happened so long ago would still affect me so severely today, but it does. And I can’t think about it too much. I can’t. It’ll destroy me. I can’t even acknowledge the gravity of the entire situation because I won’t be able to handle it. I have to keep convincing myself that the situation isn’t as bad as I know it is deep down. I’m just so sick of being sad over something like this. And I hate that, even though I’m aware it wasn’t my fault, I’m still embarrassed and afraid that people are going to think I’m disgusting for what happened.