spinning out

(yknow maybe it is safer to post hard stuff here where it’s non-rebloggable / moddable; even though i’m used to throwaway tumblr sideblogs)

[[major self-victim-blaming / sexual abuse/rape / semi-explicit details]] it’s terrifying how easy it is to find a relic and just, spin.

mix cds, man. they encode a fuckton of experience. incredibly frightening to be jolted into worrying about my culpability again.

(and related but tangential: to be rebooted thinking about the ways i’ve fucked up and ‘led on’ and missed body language and probably…probably hurt people in ways they get to name. but now i’m doubting my right to name. if i had all this spinning and sharing and broadcasting. right? damn.)

that whole self-harm thing. and how i was chanting “destroy me ruin me wreck me obliterate me” the whole time yeah? fuck, like. because of ~queer theory~ i thought that. was normal.

and i wouldn’t’ve, i really really wouldn’t’ve, if i’d been sober.

but i was so so grateful to be given another chance. forgiven for not being Good enough at romantic gestures and relationship upkeep.

but i sent that song? after, or before? yeah anybody else i’d tell them they were processing but. damn, i — like literally in every sense in all timeframes — was asking..for, it?

and the worst part is i still. remember it felt. so — absolving healing out-of-my-mind finally-lose-control-like-i-always-wanted good.

i don’t think i’ve had better sex. only other drunk times compare.

and i can’t stop hearing that song in my head now. and i still don’t trust myself not to do this all over again.

funny that finally calling it rape made the song hit even harder.

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