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collegehumor:

If Grown-Up Gifts Were Packaged Like Toys from Your Childhood [Click to continue reading]

Get excited for sensible presents.

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vv0lf:

vv0lf:

Trigger warning: sexual abuse and violence

Please reblog this to help my cause. I’m making this post to raise awareness for sexual abuse and rape. There are many different ways sexual abuse and rape can happen, and I want people to know that. I want other survivors to know they are not alone, that whatever happened is not their fault and nothing to hide. It’s hard for me to talk about this, but I want to help others. Please reblog this to help my cause.

See that girl there? That’s me when I was 13. That guy, J, he was 19, and he was my boyfriend. They day that this photo was taken was the day that changed my life forever. 

It was New Years eve, we were at a music festival with friends, and me and him had been together for almost 2 months. I finally saw our relationship for what it was, wrong. There was a big age difference and I was too young to want the same things as him. 
That night, he got very drunk. He told me he’d had over 12 beers. He made me go into the tent with him and started taking my clothes off, and kissing me. I kept saying “no, I want to go back outside with everyone else” but he didn’t listen. Finally, I told him I wanted to break up. He got angry. He was swearing at me, not letting me get away from him. Threatening me. It took me 45 minutes to get away from him. I went to my brother and told him we’d broken up. A couple of nights later, we went to the camp-fire where I found J. He was alone and brooding. I asked him if he was ok, and he said he wanted to talk to me in private. We walked off into the trees a little way and he got me on the ground. He started unbuttoning my jeans. I said “no, I’ve got my period” it was a lie and we both knew it. He touched  me for a time then told me to get up. I felt really uncomfortable. He started pulling me further into the forest. I was scared, I knew what was happening but I couldn’t stop him, he was too strong for me, and I didn’t want to make him angrier. He took me over the hill and down to the river that lay on the other side. He told me to get naked, “now.” I did as I was told. He told me to get on my knees. I did as I was told. He grabbed my hair and told me to give him a blow job. Again, I did as I was told. He forced himself down my throat and gagged me. I was crying. Soon my face was wet with tears and spit (or whatever comes up when you gag, before you vomit). I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t scream. He continued to abuse me for 5 hours. Then he tried to rape me. He didn’t listen no matter how many times I said no. I said “I’ll get pregnant”, he said “I don’t care.” He he made me lie down on my front, his hand on my back, his other hand opening my legs. I had to fight to get away from him, but I was able to grab my clothes and get away from him. By the time I got away back to the camp fire, the birds were singing, no one was around and the fire was out. I crawled into my brothers tent and lay beside him crying silently until morning. 

I got away from him that night, but he knew where I lived. He continued to abuse me for 6 months, and I didn’t tell a soul. He would make me sneak out to meet him. It was the same every time. One night I had a party with some friends, without him. He found out I had been kissing other guys and he called me a slut. He was jealous and pissed off. He told me it was over, he was done. 

The year that followed the abuse was the worst year of my life. I got into alcohol and staying out late. I got drunk whenever I could, sometimes even at school. It was a way out for me. I believed I was worthless, a slut, not worthy of love or care. I believed I was an object, it was my duty to please men. I got into more and more horrible relationships with selfish, disgusting guys. I hated myself, and my life. 

Two years later I stopped drinking. I fell in love, but I couldn’t commit. I was incapable of having a sexual relationship. Every time me and my boyfriend tried to do anything, I’d just end up having a panic attack and crying hysterically. It took me at least 6 months to get over that, and about a year before I was totally comfortable in a sexual relationship.

Three years later, I spoke up about what he did to me. I prosecuted him, but all he got was home detention, because of lack of evidence.

I still get flashbacks frequently, but it’s not as bad. Sometimes I have nightmares about rape, but they’re getting less and less serious. I’m still madly in love, my boyfriend and I have been together for 3 and 1/2 years. My boyfriend is here to support me, but it’s still really hard. I have a fantastic life now. I have people that loves me, and my boyfriend was a big part in me moving on from the abuse. I look forward to the future. I no longer see myself as worthless or slutty. Instead, I respect myself and I think that shows through. I’ve taken back what J took from me, and I’m in control of my life again.

I want girls everywhere to be strong, and stand up for themselves. Do what’s best for you. Protect yourself. Don’t ever, EVER let a man push you around. You deserve the best. Find people who love you and care for you, and if you ever get abused, don’t believe you’re worth that. Don’t think for a second that you are not worth respect and love. Be strong.

Please read and reblog, it will really help this cause..

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kllyngyn:

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venuscomb:

Today is the anniversary of Rosa Parks’ refusal to sit in the back of the bus in Montgomery, Ala. And this photograph of President Obama sitting on that exact same bus 57 years later is a poignant reminder of just how much America has changed in half a century. The image was taken at the Henry Ford Museum in Dearborn, Mich., where the humble 36-seat General Motors bus is on display. Like this simple picture of the president, the bus is an ordinary thing that represents extraordinary progress. [Source] [x]

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