Adventures in Short Attention Span

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I have stretch marks.

brokenxthought:

aphrael6:

funderly:

mikkynga:

smallerbenz:

Reblog if you do too. Just to prove that it is more normal than what people actually think.

A lot

I have stretch tributaries. 

Pregnancy’s bitch but I had some before too, just from getting normal boobs as a teenage girl. I honestly don’t much care…of all the things I’m not a huge fan of on my person, stretch marks are just like…really? Who gives a fuck? THAT WOMB PRODUCED A CHILD WHAT DID YOU EXPECT?

Personally I find stretch marks attractive… some people will likely find me odd for that

I have lots, but not from pregnancy.

(Source: happy-healthy-kitty)

2 notes

Last one, I promise (letter to someone else)

shatterfly:

I don’t know why I never really made you pay for what you did. You completely broke me and the thing is… you don’t even care or are so self absorbed that you don’t even know that you did it.

I was sixteen years old. I was vulnerable, a child, and you… broke me like a toy, like a doll. Ripped me right in half and didn’t even notice. I wanted to eat my little microwave pizza and you… IT was slow at first. Your botched attempt to woo me I guess… But you kept pushing and pushing… I was whimpering, I didn’t want to do it I didn’t want this to happen…. but you twisted my mind, your breath scalded my flesh…. I remember it was cold and then you were so hot… burnt me to a crisp and threw me away like something dirty and spoiled.

I was pure once, before you got your paws on me, inside me, you ripped me apart. I nearly killed myself… I could have died but you got most of what you wanted. I eventually found my voice. Said no. But it was too late. The screams I should have yelled five years ago are still boiling in my stomach like acid. Still waiting to force themselves up, scalding my throat, still wanted to blast apart my lips and burn you to the ground. I’m a volcano and I can only erupt with the word no and still I’m too scared.

I let this happen. How could I let you do that to me? I was sixteen. I knew that maybe if I screamed then you would stop. You forced your ravenous soul inside me and told me I liked it, that this was what *I* wanted. Your filthy hands spreading your filthy soul in mine. Forceful kisses burn me and cap my mouth to keep me from crying. You are ten years my senior but as good as the dead. Your soul can’t ever have been pure. You left your mark on me, fingers sliding in my panties, mouth searching, licking, teeth brushing against my nipples.

Was it worth it. Steal a girl’s innocence and throw her away like a dirty rag. I’m dirty from your hands, from your words and you presume to judge me a whore? And still I would not tell you. Acted as if you were a friend. Went to your wedding. Met your wife. Held your child during the ceremony.

She knew though, your wife, the woman who presumed to call me a whore two years later. When I dated your friend I knew that he and she used to be something. But I thought maybe he wasn’t like you and he wasn’t but he was a casualty of war when your wife called me a whore when you called me a whore when the world called me a whore for liking older men because my mind was so bent and broken, my eyes no longer clear, they were hidden by the grime and crap you spread on my soul.

Clipped my wings, caged birds may sing but to me this body is a jail. Cut off my curls, slice into my breasts, slit my wrists, how could I let you do this to me? It’s my fault right. I never said the word no and that….that is your saving grace isn’t it? Because I did not push you away because I was too weak, too young, too scared…. too dead on the inside to do what could have saved me. I’ve spared you lifetimes of pain because I never shared it all.

I’ve saved you because what am I supposed to do, it’d just make me a killer too, and if not me someone acting on my behalf. I may still be walking around but you killed me that night. All I wanted was my little microwaved pizza. You molested me you fucking bastard. You broke the law and I let you walk free. What the hell does that make me then? I can’t go back now and say, hey, when I was sixteen this guy took advantage of me can you please arrest him. I have no case and that is your saving grace.

You ripped me apart like I was a rag doll tossed me aside when I finally said enough and you killed my soul. I keep saying I’m fine but I can’t help but feel your hellfire breath on my breasts, the feel as your hand slid into my panties and pulled the fucking trigger on me. I’m dead. You still hold it over my head like some gruesome prize…You don’t know what you did, do you?

You think I’m a whore for not fucking you, well fuck you, and fuck your wife and fuck your saving grace… I may not have said no… I may not have screamed, but I was SIXTEEN. There are some basic human laws you should not violate. I was a child, what justification can you give to doing what you did?

3 notes

Something From the Past

shatterfly:

I don’t know what I’m going to do. I can never get to the bottom of how I feel and I’m not always sure I want to. I know I love HIM I know I am to say the very least curious about you and I’m caught in a web of I don’t know what.

I’m just… Floating. Not in a comfortable position… not in warm waters with people around to catch me if I suddenly pitch and fall… I’m clinging to the wreckage of my mind, holding on in vain to floating boards and pieces of furniture from the boat. I’m feeling my body seize and go numb in icy water while I don’t know what waits for me below the surface…. what just bumped my leg? I’m scared….

I need one of you, someone…. anyone to reach out a hand to me and pull me up, wrap a blanket around my broken, shivering mind…. I need you to see what the past has done to me and how all the gum in the world couldn’t patch the holes in my hull, couldn’t keep the chaotic water at bay. My boat is sunk and I’m lost and adrift and once, I thought that was okay, but the longer I go on the more I realize that….these waters are dangerous and I keep getting hurt. You can almost see the ice floats turning red with the power of my bleeding heart…. It’s just a matter of time before there is nothing left for me to give… It’s only a matter of time before I really learn that there is nobody coming to save me this time.

I need to ride out on this tattered piece of my former hull, my former strong hold. I need to find the nearest bit of land and I need to rebuild it myself because nobody else will help me… Nobody will save me, because you’re all a million miles away from me even when we’re in the same room. I know you’re in your own hurricane, I can’t ask this of you…. I just can’t make you the bad guy like that. I can’t do it to HIM either…. I can’t let this kill what we do have. So friend…. We are at a point where all we can do is wish each other luck and be done with it… So what do you say? Can we do it?

3 notes

Something from the past 2

shatterfly:

I don’t know if I ever told you this but it’s the fact you’re honestly a good guy that is what attracted me to you. You want to do right by everyone and make sure not a living soul is hurt or harmed in the process. You can have fun and you can be kind and you know that people have and will hurt you but you will take that if it means that you can keep from hurting others.

I know that on the inside you’re just clinging to the wreckage just like I am. We’re both adrift in icy waters trying to figure out where it all went so terribly wrong. We both need someone to rescue us but neither of us can let that happen yet. I don’t know what that is, but maybe, we should talk about that.

I know I may not seem as damaged or as pained as you but the truth is… I don’t know that I can share what happened to me with you it’s been locked away, all inside me and I have never let the full truth out about it. I was hurt, and I was hurt by people I still called friends for years to follow because… though I’ve learned the value of a voice and the word no, I am so weak willed, so yellow, so…. scared I cannot stand up to them.

I was hurt by people’s actions and I never confronted them directly about it and I never let anyone actually come to my defense without telling them first to harm none… like that would make the crucial difference… like it would be my saving grace… I don’t have a failed marriage or kids to think about I don’t know what lead to your love and life demise… not all of it… but I do know this, we’re both damaged and broken, both searching in vain for what happened to our promised happily ever after, you’ve loved only one woman, I’ve loved too many boys and men….

I’m a piece of sea glass not ready to be harvested, my edges are still razor sharp and show no signs of smoothing out… You could be called too soft but I don’t think it’s true, I think I could still find the edge in you…the one that will make me bleed so hard I’ll paint the world red. You’re not ready for someone like me but I need someone like you and I wish to god it could be you because we’d make such a pair… such a lovely pair of the oddly matched two white socks stained pink from a red sweat shirt. Both stretched, and probably torn, truth be told…. Maybe, just maybe we can make it without being scrapped and seen as a lost cause.

But I can’t ask that of you, you just entered the waters of chaos; you’re still flailing, trying to find a piece of your battered hull big enough to hold you up for more than just a moment. So I’m going to offer my hand, I know this plank ain’t big enough for two but here it is, I know what to look for so I’ll find something else for me to cling to…It’s my way, really… But I want you to know that I am doing it out of friendship and trust. I won’t call this love, the word is both bitter and salty on my tongue…

I care for you, you’re my company, I don’t know that we can get out of these waters with our souls intact but yours is so pure and white and I think mine might just need a washing or two, so don’t get too close I don’t want to soil that, six years my senior and still so innocent, your eyes don’t look half as dead as mine, they’re bright and clear and I know they’re a bit glassy from crying, and I know you can’t quite see as clearly as I think yet, but trust me, when the tears dry you’ll see past my closed, boxed in horizon and find your way to land. I know that…. Maybe even soon you’ll be marveling at the beauty of it all… I’m just gonna be…trying not to fall….so when you do get away from this horrible place just remember… I gave you a plank to hoist you up for the journey…send them back for me, I’ll try not to sink.

2 notes

Something from the past 3

shatterfly:

I think it’s safe to say that I’m never going to give you this letter so I’ll be frank. I’m scared to death that you don’t find me attractive. I’m scared to death because I don’t think anyone does and maybe you would but I know you can’t because of who you were married to…the pictures you comment on at Sunday game when we run the slide show… I have the distinct pleasure of not being the prettiest woman in a room when I’m the only woman there… I can’t tell you what a horrible feeling that is. I make joke around and flirt but those comments about those pictures make me feel less than in inch tall and I can’t really say anything…. can i? What do I say, I’m sorry can you all stop being who you are, I’m too much of a baby to take it…. What do I do then?

I think maybe next time I’ll walk away… go get some air…. something… It’s not like I want to ruin everyone Else’s night. I need to suck it up. It’s such a stupid thing, huh? No matter how often my friends try and convince me that I’m not ugly, that I’m not damaged, that I’m not all the horrible things I see in myself…I can’t believe it…

I choose not to because god knows I still feel horrible every second of every day and I don’t know what to do about that. So I go on and pretend I’m not slipping, not losing my grip on the piece of wreckage from my damaged mind, not sinking into the murky depths because I think that that’s all that’s left for me. I can’t be the person everyone thinks I am because I’m too busy hiding the cracks, fixing myself up with duct-tape and bubble gum and hoping it will hold when I take to the water but it never does.

I’ve been hurt by people, I’ve hurt a lot of people as well along the way. I push people away, they’re all too good for me… I don’t want to stain their clean white souls, sure they could use a little bleach here and there but I’m the one that’s been dragged kicking through the mud and will never get that blood off my hands. Out… Out damned spot… How can I do it? There isn’t a tide color safe bleach for souls, and the Clorox is just going to wear down the fabric and fray it even more.

I don’t deserve the love that I do have so how can I presume to tell you that I like you, have feelings for you… whatever… I know you’re not really pure, I know that nobody really is but it sure as hell feels that way. I need to go scrape off another layer of grime.

2 notes

Something from the past 4

shatterfly:

My entire body is frozen, so I hope someone comes soon. The water is so cold it’s burning me and I can’t seem to get my muscles to move. There is ice on my arms, my face, in my hair. I can hardly close my eyes. I can hardly breathe. The only thing keeping my afloat now is the fact I can’t move my fingers. There are splinters cutting into them but that’s a welcome change from the cold. Can you feel it too? How will we get out of this.

I never in my life thought I’d drown here so close to feeling something real again. I lost my trust in men… in humanity a long time ago. Things like what happened to me, they were bad stories on the news and in drama shows about cops and medical examiners, CSI… NCIS… Not something that happened to real flesh and blood people… not in my mind. And after all this I don’t think I can come to terms with it.

My body is frozen in the salty water and all I want to do is make sure you’re okay… make sure you survive to see another day. To swim another day. To float happily in clear blue waters with others around you playing, laughing, anything… Not here, this isn’t the place to be floating. I want you sipping fruity drinks, with little umbrellas and just putting this behind you. You deserve a lot better than you’ve gotten and I can’t tell you how sad it makes me that you have to go through this. I just want you to know you’re not alone out here in the water.

I may not be able to pull you to safety and My face is too cold, my lips too blue, my hands too icy to give you what you need. All I can offer is my ear and an extra piece of drifting wreckage to hold you up. So tell me what it’s like for you and I’ll be there, offering what little I can so you will know there is still something left to humanity. Nobody should ever be hurt and it kills me what she’s done to you but I want you to know that I am here and I know you need help and I can’t help myself even, I lost feeling in my body, I’m losing my battle to the cold but hopefully I can bolster your will to fight.

And that’s all I want to offer. No comparing battle scars just letting you let it all out. It will poison you if you bite it back. Let’s take the venom out and give you a good fighting chance. I hope you nothing but the best.

1 note

Something from the past 5

shatterfly:

I’m sorry. I tend to go a bit overboard when I’m emotional which is… always. I know that I shouldn’t put you on a pedestal, shouldn’t compare us and talk about your clean and pure white soul and mine being something dirty. The truth is… It’s how I handle things, my personal reality filter, if you will. I don’t know how to deal with some things that happened to me long ago. Things that formed parts of my personality that shouldn’t see the light of day too often.

I know compared to some that I am far from promiscuous but I look at my soul and my past in a sort of fun house mirror. When I hear that you’ve only been with one woman I feel like I need to apologize for how dirty I am. I know that five people may not seem like too much to a lot of people but I’m ashamed of my more… carnal side. I came out somewhat just before what happened to me, what made me the way I am and I can’t help feeling… guilty. Like it was my fault for everything.

See, I know that some people find me sexually attractive because of how I’ve acted in the past at SOLAR. I know that a lot of people assume I’m slutty or easy because my character is… The Role seemed to fit me for the time being so I didn’t say anything about it. Besides, it’s just a game. I never see these people outside of one weekend a month, if I’m lucky enough to get off work for it. So I just…. float along not caring what they think because these people don’t matter. Then all of a sudden, after what happened… They did.

The person who hurt me when I was sixteen painted a scarlet letter on me, branded my skin with a giant W and moved on watching the games begin as he spread his version of the truth to people, to people who didn’t know me who got warnings about me. Who had my scarlet letter pointed out to them so they could walk away before even meeting me. I was suddenly something that was unclean… something to be avoided. I got people in trouble. I was the cause of all this horrible stuff.

Let me make this clear. I am not a whore. I am not a WHORE. But this branded W on my chest, emblazoned with hellfire, HIS hellfire has made people assume the worst in me. I AM NOT a whore. He and I were friends… I’ve since learned the danger of befriending men so much older than me… I was sixteen. He walked me back to my cabin so I could grab something from my cooler to eat. She left me alone with him He left me alone with him. I guess the wool was over everyone’s eyes for the moment.

I just wanted to grab some food. But he was there, and I guess I was just too tempting a treat. I still have to choke back bile from rising to my throat when I think about this. I just wanted something to eat but he wanted me to be his treat so he did what he had too. Tired young girl, sleep deprived, sixteen and oh so sexy, the one with the short skirt, low cut top and pair of fairy wings. Her….

He wrapped his arms around me. I was okay, that was a little close but it was cold and I’d been using my friends as pillows and warmth all event. Fine. My little microwaved pizza was cooking. I’d get something to eat and we’d go back to the safety of the company of others. We’d go back and everything would be okay. But it wasn’t okay.

He slid his hands inside my shirt. I was shivering. I’d just wanted to get something to eat…. But now he was moving my clothes to suit his purpose. Lay be back against the mattress resting on the floor. Clamping his mouth over mine, his fingers first pushing my bra out of the way then sliding up my skirt, working past my panties. I couldn’t make a sound.

I knew it was wrong and I should scream and fight back but I didn’t. I… couldn’t. I think that’s what snapped inside of me…. I was so weak I couldn’t stop it.

I think I said ‘we shouldn’t’ at one point as if it was my idea. At the time he’d sufficiently warped my mind to make me stay quiet about it… Twisted me to his will but he wouldn’t stop until I finally said no and got up and walked away….

I started cutting seriously after that. Slit my breasts, my stomach, my thighs…. Even my wrists hoping someone would notice and care enough to make me come out and say it. Suffice it to say nobody did. So I went on and continued to act like his friend even though the sight of him sometimes made me so upset.

I learned to hide a lot about myself. Shell myself up, wall myself in, can’t ever show so much to someone again. Let myself get pulled into a whorish lifestyle. Lost my virginity to some I barely knew, got hot and heavy with a few people without going all the way. Played up to expectation and was…. empty.