(no subject)
Do you know what it is like to be fucked? To be treated like an animal, less than an animal, like an object? Do you know what it is like to know your only valued purpose is to be fucked? To lie there and take it in any orifice that it fits or can be made to fit? Do you know what it is to submit? Submissive to that giant penis in the sky? Do you know what it is to believe rape is deserved? To feel shame and fault for your own gang rape in the streets? Do you know what it feels like to have your insides torn apart, ravaged and exposed to the world upon a concrete ground? Do you know what it feels like to rot, to deteriorate, to feel your soul harden and waste away, to fight and scream and clench your every muscle in violent outbursts as you demand for reasons why? Do you know how difficult it is to find purpose? To continue on in this prescribed dementia, always suspicious of those you pass, because ninety percent of them are lurking? And the need for companionship becomes dangerous. And everyone that acknowledges your existence becomes suspect to the crime. And the fear thickens with every experience. Their entitlement to property far outweighs your right to freedom of … Possession is nine-tenths of the law and I know law is property. At any constructed moment, socialization teaches us that I am to be owned by the highest bidder, regardless of how high that bid may be; I am still property. Does it take so much to understand? I am not safe. I am afraid to close my eyes at night. I leave the lights on and the minute I close my eyes in exhaustion, I frantically open them up again in fear. I sleep little when I am alone because my heartbeats will not allow it. You do not understand the fear I endure; nor the pain I endure for acting as if it were not a factor. Because I can ignore it for a moment, by looking at my shoes as I walk, or by refraining from conversation, it does not mean I do not feel every single glance and thought and urge of fucking that is thrusted upon me throughout the day. I have encountered it millions of times, and though I now deal with it by refusing to acknowledge those looks, I know exactly, exactly what is going on in every single second that you physically see it with your eyes. I do not need to see it to know and understand and feel what has happened so many times before. And for those wonderful people that have truly been able to enjoy my company, I am so sorry for all you have had to deal with. The looks and stares and questions are annoying, frustrating, confusing and plain upsetting. I would wish no such hardships upon any of you. You were in my life for a reason much more admirable and beautiful than anything having to do with physical appearance. But of course my existential responsibility must apologize for the world we have created. It has been so difficult to understand and continue on in good company. These things were made to break us. And though I have these weaknesses of fear and worry, I will never fully submit to the belief that we deserve anything less than complete and utter freedom. We must learn to treat each other with respect and support so that we may gain the understanding needed to come together. The revolution needs nothing more than that. We are human beings. We should love and be loved. We should be free. Thank you Ridwan. I love you Jonathan.