currently ‘rehabilitating’ until i appear stable enough to live alone. can’t wait until i can do things like wear my noise cancelling headphones/other sensory depriving equipment 24/7 or give my address to bad men when im feeling vulnerable. i think violence, neglect, deprivation, overstimulation, and psychological torture is what i need to feel like life is worth living.
and no matter how hard i try to deescalate it with nervous laughter, i will be very quickly humbled when it’s met with violence and a complete disregard for my feelings, safety and pleasure.
my panties soak at the thought of that one small realization and rush of fear.
The only thing missing is a fuckton of bruises, a mixture of substances, and very tight restraints so that my body is unable to fight back
i need to stop telling men about my trauma so that they stop letting that get in their head about taking me the exact way they want to.