“How come all the Cool Chicks are Lesbians”
“Leessbeeannn. Lesbean. All the cool chicks are Lesbians,” My little niece read. I was going through some boxes of jewellery when I heard her reading it out. She can read quite well and takes pride in the ability. She was holding onto a little rainbow pin that I first got from Ian after I came out as a bi at university. I looked down at it and smiled. She looked down at it and smiled too, admiring my handful of pins that I had stored in with my jewellery. “That’s one of my favourite pins, I didn’t make that one, it was a gift from my friend” I told her. “That can go with the rest of my jewellery that I’m taking home.” She smiled down at the little rainbow pin and read it again and again. “How come all the cool chicks are Lesbians!” She looked up at me smiling happily. We continued to look through boxes as I got my stuff organized. The phrase stayed with her as she played through some of my select things. She held onto it for hours, every once in a while, rereading it out loud. Eventually, as I was packing up things, she decided to run it upstairs and tell grandpa about the pin she snitched from me. She came back down the stairs and came up to me with her hands on her hips. “Its not allowed, papa said it was inappropriate.” She said matter-of-factly. I just rolled my eyes. Anything along an lgbt topic and he would tell me to shut it. The kids started a new game of tossing back and forth the new word. “How come all grandmas are lesbians!” “All the hotdogs are lesbians too!” “How come men are all lesbians!” the giggled as they went back and forth. My nephew stopping for a second in mock horror at the last phrase before breaking down into giggles for the next five minutes. Then as they were calming down she finally asked me, “What is a lesbian?” “Its not a bad word, papa was being a goof, lesbian is just a type of girl, or what a girl can be, like girls can be tomboys.” I said. “Oh.” She said, confused by my dull answer, and ran off to play with her brother. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Hours later after spending the day hanging out with the kids they headed home. Given the chance to think I thought out loud :“Crap, she held onto that pin for hours, I never got it back, the little thief must have taken it.” I laughed a bit. “Oh, no, he threw it out.” was the reply from my mom in the living room. “What!?” I said, standing there a little stupefied. “He threw it out,” my mom repeated. “Of course I did,” he said, “That’s completely inappropriate to give a kid.” I was still a bit stunned and grasping for words. “She took it from me obviously, she liked it, I didn’t give it to her.” I said as I hurried into the kitchen and pulled out the trash. Having to dig through it I felt humiliated. The pin was surrounded by grime and grease. Thrown away and discarded. “Ian gave it to me years ago.” I felt the heat and frustration rise to my face. “What the hell dad! Seriously, throwing something of mine out like that. And why is it inappropriate? Why would you say that to them? Like it’s a bad word? Something that we aren’t allowed to say? Something dirty? Why would you teach them that? That’s what they did you know. After you reacted like that, they came downstairs and tossed it around like it was a new swear word. Don’t you understand what you are doing?.” I could tell he was fed up and going to stand by it. I felt tears start to run down my cheeks. “Fuck Christmas. Fuck Family. I cant stand this.” I left the room, grabbed my stuff and left. I managed to be okay in the car ride home with my brother but the moment I got to my door I was in tears again. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ In the last couple months my mothers been amazing. She finds out about some of the bad policies or issues that lgbt people have to deal with and are fighting right now and tells them to me, asking if I heard the latest news on it. My brother amazes me every time with an understanding and acceptance that really fills me with happiness. Sometimes my mother says something and my bro rolls his eyes at her and tells her how its stupid because of such and such and tells her how it is. She listens to him, they talk about it and she gets told by him about how she has some silly stereotypes. She laughs it out and I just listen with honour that my little brother is telling her how she believes too much TV. Though there are stereotypes, all it seems to take is some talking about it to fix things and they have both realized so much on their own it really helps me feel at home. I have been involved in the LGBT collective on campus for 5 years. I am one of the most out people in Brandon and proud to be. I have been working my ass off trying to help people and create a good space and comfortable friends to help people come out and deal with everything that comes with it. I have helped numerous people come out, and shared a lot of tears and shared a lot of happiness they felt about the reactions of their friends and loved ones. I’ve been told numerous painful stories and joyful ones, the painful ones always stick with me. Dreams of being a teacher crushed as they watched their schools parents petition to remove a gay teacher from their school until he finally couldn’t take the harassment anymore and quit. Loosing your best friends to coming out cause they cant deal with what other people might think. Another girls parent finding out that her daughter is dating this ‘lesbian’ girl from school and getting the teachers and principal on board for a rule of ‘the lesbian’ not being able to come within three feet of any other girl throughout high school. Enforced by everyone. Being told by your mother that you are disgusting. Hearing your brother talk about how he bashed another fags face in today and being afraid that one day he will find out about you too. I went through years of harassment. Years of bullying, of teasing. I was the fucking dyke. The stupid butch. The beast. Even my friends would hurt and tease me. I would walk home without fear, despite the things people would say to me. They would tell me they would teach me all sorts of things how it was suppose to be, to teach me how to like cock, telling me how they were going to cut me, how they were going to slice me open, telling me how they were going to fuck me up. They pulled out a knife, and I told them how it was a good thing they brought one cause it gave them a better chance to win the fight. I was filled with frustration, it fuelled me. I felt so caged, so backed in a corner and threatened that I could lash out with words of my own. Bless my stupidity, because intimidation saved me. No one stabbed me, no one beat me, they feared that a knife wouldn’t stop me from hitting them right back. They feared my spirit would hold up. Years of girls putting my clothes in the garbage’s during gym. Of taking my binders and pencils and throwing them in the cafeteria garbage. Of Fucking Butch or Stupid Dyke being scrawled on everything I owned the minute I left to go to the bathroom. Of pop being poured in my hair. Of being shoved around in the hallways. All the rocks. All the spit balls. All the snowballs. All the ice. I spent my high school life as trash. “How come all the cool chicks are lesbians” In a sea of hate. Disgust. Of being the punch line of every joke. What does the word butch or dyke feel like to you? This one time its positive. This one time there’s a shred of acceptance. There’s flattery. Pride is such a relief, such a happy time to reclaim ourselves. You say its biased? You say its telling girls that its only cool to be lesbians? In what world? Our world surrounds marriage, something a huge percentage of people feel is wrong between women. The media and world surrounds straight people dating and meeting the perfect man. Straight people having families. Which parent bothers to say the positive things about LGBT people or their struggles when explaining anything to their kids. How much hate is out there. How much teasing? How many derogative things to call us. So why, in this world full of negativity is this a threat? One shining gem of acceptance through all the painful years. We all hear the shit being said. We hear people calling each other fucking faggots, butches, cock suckers, carpet munchers, fudge packers, fairies, or a fucking queer. Its something said to straight people to tease them, to taunt them, saying they are the creeps of society. Just like us. People stay silent, they wont talk, so we get to live in a world dominated by the only people speaking being the ones who hate us so much that they cant shut up about it. That’s why I couldn’t hold back in the end, that’s what caused me to say something. Everytime you tell me that I have to find different friends. Cause mine are not normal, cause mine are all queers(by the way, they aren’t, it was never a requirement). Everytime you tell me that that is the end of discussion cause I mentioned that I liked girls. All those times you cut me off from talking, the times you turned up the music to train me that the minute I mention something LGBT that you wont listen. Everytime you told me to shut up about it and any issues I had to deal with involving work or discrimination. Its who I am. Its who I date. It’s the discrimination I face and fight. Its my job. Its my thesis. Its my friends. I would rather say nothing than have to censor my entire life. This that you are putting me through, weighs down on me. Everytime you do it.
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AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!!
Making someone write 20-25 pages on one topic sounds like torture to me, I couldn’t see myself as a professor, asking a student to do such a thing. O.O!! The extent of writing like that drains all my energy for writing of any sorts. ^o^ Sucks the creativity from me, though that might be mostly due to it being research based. Though this is what I am going to be stuck with doing for my doctorate and masters. If I get that far. I am still waiting for myself to hit my upper limit of what I am capable of. Ever since first hearing about the theories of the upper and lower limits of intelligence, in psychology back in first year I have thought about it. I had realized that my range was so small and thus what determined where I landed within my range was huge. I realized how much little things would affect a millimetre movement. That Millimetre movement could mean the difference between me being capable of doing a honours worthy masters or not. Hell, I could work hard and somehow maybe I could even reach the full upper limit of my capabilities of understanding and theorizing and it could be just a millimetre away from what was needed to get beyond the theories out there, to get enough originality to accomplish my doctorate. I wouldn’t even know. All the work till then, and trying for the doctorate, to find that I just couldn’t wrap my head around an original thesis. It is quite horrifying to me. They even say, some can do it. Some cannot. I am fearful of being one of the ones who cannot. I will always be the type that needs to continue to broaden my knowledge. But what if that always just turns into broadening my knowledge base? What if I find my limits, and can only find fulfillment with continuing in the education system. There are plenty of things I still want to learn, plenty of things I still want to do. Ex. Biology, Chemistry, Astrology, Geology, learn French, sculpture, drawing, painting, 7 more years of piano, 3 years of violin, 2 years of guitar lessons, are just some examples. Not to mention white water rafting, some backcountry camping and hiking, maybe some decent canoe trips too. I still feel like I would become the professional student. I would have many tales to tell, I'm sure, but I would never feel an end. No closure. No finale. No sense of actual accomplishment. >.< It always made me insecure how Slimey would be readily applying newly heard about theory, to things, having a question of its applications in an unmentioned way. I needed time to compute and register a theory and its flexibility before I could start wondering how it would apply in certain rare circumstances. How stressful. My inflexibility to start applying new thought to interesting areas makes me feel intellectually impotent. Its like they got a hard on before I even knew it was a race to see who could first and I am stuck there looking at their impressive hard on, while I keep looking back at my deflated package, stuck because by the time I could get half mast and point it out, the ref has gone home and Mr. HardandReady already impressed everyone to the point of them all leaving with big smiles on their faces thinking, wow that was a pretty hardcore cock. Though what I may have lacked in ability to dive right in a new concept, I made up for in memory year to year. Recalling old theories and perspectives more easily. This is what helps me sleep at night I suppose… Is this what the less endowed repeat? “Its not the size, its not the size, its not the size, yeah, motion like an ocean, yeah. Totally….it doesn’t even matter” -.-’’’’’ ..........The truth is, I can hear them crying on the inside. CREATIVITY!!!!! COME BACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DX NNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! WHHYYY!?! There is something relaxing about listening to starlight by muse or mad world by Gary Jules and watching the snowy world outside right now. Kids howling and playing on the snow hill right outside, the trees swaying stiffly in the cold wind, girls speed walking towards their next class or exam, and the traffic going by in the distance. Or maybe its just that I don’t want to finish writing my 20 page paper. Yeah, that could be it too. Oh hey, on the topic of writing and procrastination I bring you, this.
Half an hour ago my mind was left on and started wandering all over the place. I kept imagining how things could go down if someone came on campus with guns and started shooting up the place. Started planning out, if I don’t end up shot before I get a chance to do anything, what my plan of defence would be. Started thinking of the library as a level in a videogame, thinking about good angles with clear shots and good cover. Morbid things have been a common thing for me to sit and imagine for hours since my high school years. Made the mistake of telling one of the waitresses at the restaurant I cooked at before and she though I was insane. I have commonly imagined friends and family dying from intense car crashes, freak accidents, serial killers or zombies. I can blame the first two on watching a bunch of the final destination movies and the third on my fascination with killers. My imagination just cant be shut off after it starts on the matter of gruesomeness unless there is some serious distractions. Don’t get me wrong, when family or friends start dying in my imagination I find it disturbing and I will sometimes let it worry me too much. Nothing like the pick-me-upper of imagining last words of a loved one after they get hit by a car, I just zone out like there is a movie being played in my head that I would never buy tickets to see. I always did hope that in a position of being attacked and stabbed that I would have enough strength to take them down with me. Sometimes I also wonder how much the worlds rate for necrophilia will increase upon the zombie apocalypse. If they are headless there is not too much to fear. I imagine the ones that want it when they can still bite back would decrease in number if you just give them time. I mean, that’s like trying to masturbate with a rattler. I do wonder if other people ever imagine such gross things out and have such strange questions. If you are queasy already I suggest you skip the next paragraph completely(or if you are under 18) and I will post again tomorrow or the day after, then on the weekend with looks at some new art(or my attempts of). So since we already are on a dirty subject matter and Jack is posting random porn(note to self, look up zombie porn after paper is written), if you think you can stomach worse , you should check out the web comics Sexy losers. It is incredibly disturbing and has a focus on terrible sex stuff like masturbation addiction, necrophilia, and moneys shots and worse, all with no taste executed. :p Or OGLAF which is like a comedic fantasy web comic that has a sex focus (all sexualities) This is a good starter for T-Girl. and this ones for.. well who doesn’t like dirty yaoi. Though, don’t get me wrong, none are porn or would likely be very useful as much, but they are worth endless laughs for me. Enjoy. I started university with a social experiment, I dressed as a goth but managed a smile on my face most of the time when walking through the hallways. It was easy to do once I realized that NO ONE wanted to actually maintain eye contact. After a decent length of time doing this I managed to find only three people who smiled back. Everyone else instantly averted attention elsewhere when they saw my attire. The three people were a cool dark chick(whom I never could find on campus again O.o), a tall guy and a short guy whom we can call Big Slimey and Little Slimey (B.Slimey=6’4“? whom I ended up having my soc class with) (L.Slimey.=5’6”? whom I ended up having my psych class with).
Little Slimey became my first love and Big Slimey became my best friend. My guidance managed to completely change L.Slimeys life around. He had been rejected and felt inadequate, and found socializing horrific. B.Slimey let me become more close to him than anyone else, but had a hard time seeing me go through the troublesome times with L.Slimey and ended up cutting me out of his life. He shut lots of his friends out of his life after that and became more political and detatched. L.Slimey ended our relationship a social butterfly and a fantastic person, but costed me my self esteem and happiness. L.Slimey said too many terrible things to me when we were breaking up for it to just bounce off me. I started to play piano, delving into a world that I previously only dreamed I could be a part of. I completely embraced music and the arts. I didnt dare to draw much then, my best friend whom I have decided to refer to as Cute Asian. Cute Asian had skills so hardcore that when compared closely next to each other it would render my artwork the equivilent of a drawing of a broken blade of grass(or it might be a tree) compared to one of gustav klimt's(<3) works. Though they drew mostly dragons. I fought hard to get into a good groove, battling depression and obsessive suicidal thoughts. I managed to find myself steady again. I decided to start constantly hanging out with a fantastic friend of mine which I realized later was a great move. At one point it dawned on me that I needed to find out if they thought I was date worthy before somebody else found them. They had a smooth body, pretty eyes, a sweet smile and a nice ass. I managed to gain their attention and got to feel a love greater than I thought could exist. I easily envisioned myself having a full future with them. I was able to rid myself of insecurities by letting our relationship shelter me from most unremedied pains. I found myself at a loss when my ex L.Slimey was chasing our mutual best friend. There was a lot of unfinished business, like them telling me that I was shit in their life to help them adjust to the idea of breaking up with me in the first place. L.Slimey and our best friend hooked up, and found it impossible to keep most of those relationships healthy. I ended up having to cut off communication with Slimey and gained some intense resentment towards our friend. I found myself slipping back into depression but that relationship and love of my current relationship kept me sane and got me through dealing with my ex's bullshit. But then it was my loves turn with the issues. They started struggling with issues of jealousy and addiction and I started struggling back. I started to see these issues as similar to my step father and mothers relationship. I started to doubt their reliability. I became horrified of how it could end up being, not knowing who they were anymore. I left the relationship and before they even left I got the blunt realization of how my breaking up with them was the ultimate betrayal in their eyes. Things would never be the same. It didn’t matter if I would just choose to be single and not looking. I found out I couldn’t keep them around no matter how much I tried. I lost them as a lover and as my best friend. With them I found myself on a level of relationship and intimacy that I have yet to find again (though I am biased, I push people away right now, I dont feel like dating). They left my life and I found myself with scarcely any good friends left. The last of my best friends at this time went through a rough breakup, started blaming me for their lives woes and I finally lost everything that I held dear to me. It was hard to deal with being so loyal to someone and putting all your faith in them, then finding out they blame you without reason. I mourned my losses of my friends but within a week, two broken people were dropped off on my doorstep for me to mend. Out of these I now have some of my best friends, but life and people laying constant demands and judgement on me kept me so busy that I didn’t even notice when I lost myself completely. I became solely about others. A shell. I finally turned 18 and started dating a just-turned-29 year old guy (mom and Dad if you are reading this, you might want to skip the next sentence or two, or maybe just the whole first paragraph). He taught me about love making and sex and I found that I was the type of person who had tastes for either depending on the night. He taught me how to feel sexy and introduced me to lesbian porn. He also gave me his permission to sex up ladies anytime I wanted to and reassured me that he would give me the space to do it comfortably. It was the first time that I gained confidence. I lost weight, kept in shape and turned my life around.
He had travelled lots and lived lots, having so many wonderful stories about backpacking across Canada and hanging out with some different covens. He had such an exciting life, with so much knowledge that he picked up along the way. But with me he found himself finally ready to settle down and have kids. I found myself finally wanting to live. To make and accomplish goals. To go places and be something. So we went our separate ways and I continued to get better. I finally started to get some chances to find out what intimacy with a woman was like after he was gone when I spent some decent time getting close with some of my bisexual friends. I surprised my parents by going back to high school, even more so when I got good grades and graduated, and even furthermore when I applied to University on my own, then decided to go back for a double shock when I got accepted, AND even picked out my courses and went. It was hard though. This was stuff that JR talked to me about, loans and grades and all that university crap, it was one of the last long conversations we had. It was like I was following in his footsteps when I got accepted. It had some comfort, but on another level it felt like he should be there, giving me advice to get through everything. I struggled with this my entire first year, it was hard to ignore since he was so associated with university, thus every building and every classroom. I wondered about him, I imagined him sitting in classes, and I dreamt of him. Some days I found myself thinking back to how I used to get so pained by it that I just wanted to carve his name in my arm. Instead I imagined getting his name tattooed where I could hide it. It just seemed unacceptable to still be mourning him, so I just didn’t talk, I just listened. Before my first year of university started during that last summer at my own place I managed to get out of the house once and ended up being followed around and hit on by the usual stalkers. Using a smoke break to take off I bumped into an old acquaintance and we chatted before I admitted that I had to take off to go out walking(Cant sleep when I’m buzzed) before I headed home. They ended up joining me, even though the night was young, and I spent the next over six hours with them walking around talking about everything. It was sweet and nice, and respectfully (since I ditched the party to avoid being hit on all night) didn’t end with another proposition. They spent a decent time at the gym across from my job and apartment and managed to often be heading in or leaving when I was locking up the restaurant that I worked at. It was nice to chat with someone all summer when I had pretty much ditched most of my old friends that were still around town. We ended up hanging out at least every week, walking around, chatting, talking about working out(which we both loved and spent many hours on) and catching movies together. We both knew that when the summer ended that both of us had unfinished business in two different universities. Somehow they had whittled their way into my mind and heart. The last time we got to see each other, I had just entered my first week of university and we hit up dinner and a movie. There was so much energy in both of us until it was finally time to say our goodbyes. It would have been easier if they didn’t have such an intoxicating smile, a face so full of emotion, and eyes that just bore down inside me. There was some silence, things were left unsaid. Luckily, afterwards, when I thought about them I really shone. I remembered the connection. I remembered not having to say anything to communicate. I remembered that intoxicating smile that just made me feel so loved. I didn’t dwell on being so far from each other. I spent the last month and a half in town preparing myself to handle them leaving. They brought me so much joy and that is what I wanted to remember, I didn’t want to ever cry about them. So I didn’t …. much. Here is where some of my list making has come through in a more creative way. Since we are on the topic of my life and currently are flipping through the time in my life that was highly pussyfilled(Oh yes I said it). Then I figured I would toss this up. From the time I was 17 to 21 I kinda ended up turning my place into an unofficial animal shelter until I found each one a home. At max I had four cats, for a week and a half, when I was taking care of a friends from out of town and then hit a high when Pooky had her batch of kittens, that increased the number I had to five(three kittens) until some were old enough to be given away. Right now, and for the last four or so years I have had two, Pooky and Scaredy cat. I did up these doodles as a way to put my memories in material form. Sadly its also littered with my terrible writing and I obviously still need a scanner. O.O'''' Hope this lightens up my My Life posts, I promise the next parts are pretty sweet. My depression still got bad, so bad that in grade 11 I finally told my parents that I couldn’t control it anymore. I ended up having to go on meds. They worked but I just couldn’t keep taking them consistently. I kept being told it was a weakness to take them and that it was pathetic so in the end they stopped working because I was off and on them for too long.
Finally just after I turned 17, an opportunity to move out of the house was before me. I was starting my final year of school and working about 30 hours getting paid under minimum wage and I could barely scrape by if I moved out but I could, potentially. It turned into an internal fight(and often external) for my mother not wanting her child out so young, and wanting to get me out so that life was easier, since my step father and I fought constantly. In the end I declared that I didn’t want to leave until I was done high school, and was told from my step father since this was a choice, that things were going to change around the house now. The look on his face was full of glee, he started listing off the ‘new and improved rules’. This threat was the last straw, so I left. Money was tight, I had off and on roommates, most of which never paid rent. I spent most of those first few months pretty messed up. I was the one with a place to drink at. The minute my shift was over, it was a minute walk to smoking and drinking up a storm. I only had one rule, you can smoke it or drink it at my place as long as you offered to share with me. After a while a guy friend of ours started coming around, I got pressured by my friends into dating and eventually, loosing my virginity to him. He was verbally and emotionally abusive, and incredibly violent. In a flash of movement he went from handling something on the floor, leaned over, to smashing things against the wall inches from my face, me flinching as the debris hit me. He was full of drama and would scream at me constantly till I was crying in a corner of the room. When he was raging he didnt care about pain, if he was bleeding it just meant he was allowed to scream at me louder. I found out that one of my close friends, Beck was screwing him and I knew they could have told me before I had given up my virginity to him. I had told my friends weeks before that I was finally going to appease them and loose it. Beck declared it to me in the restaurant in front of other customers a few days after I was virginity free. There was so much happiness written all over their face, this was the way Beck defeated her friends. So shortly after while rumors were flying, I broke my hand punching a wall instead of Beck's face, and dropped out of high school. I broke up with the asshole I had been dating and his good friend started treatening to call the cops when he would come over to find him screaming at me and trashing the place while I just tried to stay out of the way. The asshole finally left but not before ripping me off, complaining to the landlord and smashing up my place and its contents. He screamed at me that he would tap out all of his resources and connections to ensure that I was tortured well before I would be allowed to die, and to expect it soon. There was so much bullying going on that I started lashing right back at them. A girl would pour her pop in my hair facing me while she did it, and I would immediately get up and kick her ass. First hit was hard enough that she already flew onto the ground. I got suspended every which way you could, inside or outside school suspensions, half days to five days. I even managed to get suspended for looking at another girl in my class wrong, apparently it was a hateful look I gave her.
After a while I had to write up reasons why the school should let me back in every time. I started making friends with the trouble of the school. The after school walk home was filled with groups of people threatening and itching to ‘cut me open’ and ‘curb stomp’ me. I stayed honest about what I did do and what I didn’t do, but my parents stopped believing me and my lunch hour was filled with being forced to talk to the counsellor, where she kept repeatedly asking me why I felt the need to lie about things. The principal tore my mini Wiccan altar(feathers, a small smooth rock, an incense stick and an unlit tealight) from my locker and I wasn’t allowed to bring my pentacle to school. Late in grade ten I finally found out that a friend could be someone who wasn’t insecure about being your friend. Someone who didn’t talk behind your back but defended you wholeheartedly. Someone who didn’t get upset if people were talking about how ‘close’ you seemed to be. It was also a time when a threat to my friends to leave them because I caught them bullying someone was a legitimate concern that caused them to immediately go and apologize and end the bullying permanently. I actually had some sort of value. Something that I wasn’t used to since I was a pretty lame person and always was the bottom of peoples lists of who they would want to hang out with. This managed to last for a while. I had learned to stand up for myself to my step father after there was too much differences between how my sister was treated and I was and it finally got to me. I was still used to clothes handed down from my mother, and cheap $5 flat shoes from walmart as my gym and everything else shoes while my sister always had an all new wardrobe($50 pants) and Nikes. I fought hard for my first $20 non flat bottomed runners from walmart, my stepfather and I screamed at each other, and my mother was forced to get in and do something. I also got grounded often for a week or two with no contact with the outside world other than school, when my sister got grounded for a day, from simply leaving the house. The differences were obvious. |
Kris
I am a Bi+Trans geeky student who is all about Gaming, Music, Drawing, Writing, Anime, Comic books, and Web comics. Categories
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