I feel sick with rage. WARNING: SENSITIVE ISSUE
I gave it a second chance.
I went back to writing club today with an open mind. I'm serious. I told myself that this was a new start, and I would be fine. Fine.
The activity was pretty fun, too. Three times, we listened to music and then wrote a short story based on it, or about it, or whatever. It was fun.
Then came reading aloud. Right. I was still a little creeped out, but hey? I tried to see the humor in them, and forced myself to laugh. Maybe I wasn't truly amused, but whatever.
And then. God. I don't even want to type it.
One kid asked if someone would read his story for him, so another boy took it, read it, and started laughing. And again. And went he finally forced it out, the first line was:
"'I'm going to fuck you, you fucking slut,' he said as he raped her --"
And that's all he could say before he started laughing...along with the rest of the class.
But not me. I've known people online who've been raped, and it's not funny. And not Sami, either, who's great-grandmother was raped. We were disgusted.
I yelled at them. I shouted, "What's funny about that? What the HELL is so funny about that?" And the teacher defended him. Said that yes, it was inappropriate to read out loud, but it was a dark, violent song that inspired it, so it fit.
Yeah, maybe it did fit. But that's not...
That's just sick. You don't write about rape, and then LAUGH.
I wanted to walk out right there. But I didn't. That would mean that they won. All I did was, at the end, say, "I'm keeping my folder, because I'm not coming back."
This time I won't. I mean it. If I ever do go back, it'll be in, like, March. But I'm not going back any time soon. I'm thoroughly disgusted. For the past hour I've felt on the verge of a panic attack because I'm so fucking mad.
And then...this is pettier, but then that vaguely cute kid John came up and started walking with Sami and me, and he asked if we liked the first song that had been played, since he brought it in. And then he said that to him it was about him and this girl he liked in Georgia, because a Southern band played it.
At that, I felt sort of...hopeless. It's not that I like John even at all. It's not that I thought he liked me, or even that I really wanted him to.
But somehow it hurts. That he doesn't. That no one ever has. That I feel this disgustingly alone.
You can say it all you want, guys think with their balls and are immature.
Everyone tells me I'm pretty. Girl friends, that is. So if I'm so "pretty," then why don't guys think so? Like, honestly. It should fit. They think with their balls. I'm pretty. By the rules, they should somehow be attracted to me.
They're not. Guys don't flirt with me. Who the hell am I kidding, at drama? They weren't flirting with me. They really weren't. They do that EVERY day to other girls. On any other day, I'm lucky if I get a 'hi.'
I give up. I really just do. All I know is that I don't want anyone to call me pretty anymore, because somehow, being told I am and being ignored by the opposite sex hurts more than when I think I'm not pretty and I'm ignored by the opposite sex.
I just...fuck. I hate this.
I went back to writing club today with an open mind. I'm serious. I told myself that this was a new start, and I would be fine. Fine.
The activity was pretty fun, too. Three times, we listened to music and then wrote a short story based on it, or about it, or whatever. It was fun.
Then came reading aloud. Right. I was still a little creeped out, but hey? I tried to see the humor in them, and forced myself to laugh. Maybe I wasn't truly amused, but whatever.
And then. God. I don't even want to type it.
One kid asked if someone would read his story for him, so another boy took it, read it, and started laughing. And again. And went he finally forced it out, the first line was:
"'I'm going to fuck you, you fucking slut,' he said as he raped her --"
And that's all he could say before he started laughing...along with the rest of the class.
But not me. I've known people online who've been raped, and it's not funny. And not Sami, either, who's great-grandmother was raped. We were disgusted.
I yelled at them. I shouted, "What's funny about that? What the HELL is so funny about that?" And the teacher defended him. Said that yes, it was inappropriate to read out loud, but it was a dark, violent song that inspired it, so it fit.
Yeah, maybe it did fit. But that's not...
That's just sick. You don't write about rape, and then LAUGH.
I wanted to walk out right there. But I didn't. That would mean that they won. All I did was, at the end, say, "I'm keeping my folder, because I'm not coming back."
This time I won't. I mean it. If I ever do go back, it'll be in, like, March. But I'm not going back any time soon. I'm thoroughly disgusted. For the past hour I've felt on the verge of a panic attack because I'm so fucking mad.
And then...this is pettier, but then that vaguely cute kid John came up and started walking with Sami and me, and he asked if we liked the first song that had been played, since he brought it in. And then he said that to him it was about him and this girl he liked in Georgia, because a Southern band played it.
At that, I felt sort of...hopeless. It's not that I like John even at all. It's not that I thought he liked me, or even that I really wanted him to.
But somehow it hurts. That he doesn't. That no one ever has. That I feel this disgustingly alone.
You can say it all you want, guys think with their balls and are immature.
Everyone tells me I'm pretty. Girl friends, that is. So if I'm so "pretty," then why don't guys think so? Like, honestly. It should fit. They think with their balls. I'm pretty. By the rules, they should somehow be attracted to me.
They're not. Guys don't flirt with me. Who the hell am I kidding, at drama? They weren't flirting with me. They really weren't. They do that EVERY day to other girls. On any other day, I'm lucky if I get a 'hi.'
I give up. I really just do. All I know is that I don't want anyone to call me pretty anymore, because somehow, being told I am and being ignored by the opposite sex hurts more than when I think I'm not pretty and I'm ignored by the opposite sex.
I just...fuck. I hate this.