Wednesday, June 29, 2016

People who wear suits every day by Cassie Kinney

People who wear suits every day
want to be cowboys of vigilantism--
Enraptured by the idea of themselves --
The idea of being defenders of supremacy.
Good old boys disguised as police
Once as bullies of their school to the hoods
And they militarize those schools and streets,
Except for wall street...
These damn police don't stop rape and murder,
And certainly don't stop corruption.
All they know how to do is shove the bullet,
Stop a person driving black,
Punish those who are fighting back.
There has always been a police state
Living in the present policed
Replicating the racist policies & projects. 
Who structured the projects and gave them crack?
 Who continues to acquit police after killing?
Who structured the levees and let them break?
Who sat back and let those people drown?
Who continues to put a fine and fee on lives?
Who benefits from their suffering? 

My uncomfortability by Cassie Kinney

I am too comfortable in my situation
But I am uncomfortable being who I am.
I am conflicted in my convictions--
When you work to make money, the higher ups take a portion,
The gov takes a portion to fund the military
And certainly does not fund education.
The prison system takes a portion,
And you barely make enough to get by--
So you might as well have nothing or have it all.
That money represents genocide and slavery,
And continues to be recycled through war,
And other cruel deeds that exploits the poor.
You have little options when you live in Appalachia.
You can only get by if you're a doctor--
And you drown working too hard--
Whether it's in fast food, a factory, a nurse.
Whether I'm stupid or a genius for getting by without working--
I don't get paid to cook and clean for the  husband and family.
I never get paid to write, or paint and take a picture,
And I certainly don't get paid to read for leisure.
I say that I don't work for the system
Because of its destruction & exploitation on the environment.
But that doesn't make me any less penniless and homeless.
Another side I must admit:
I'm jobless because I have no drive,
I have no drive because I'm afraid of failure,
Failure would make me feel ashamed,
And I am ashamed to be uncomfortable or comfortable with who I am.

Know your purpose by Cassie Kinney

When I refuse to work--
Should I be refused of basic needs?
Are you going to let me sit out in the cold?
Do you know why you're here today--
It is to work for someone else--
Are you here to do good or evil?
Are you here for love or money?
What if you work all the time,
Only having enough money to pay bills--
When is it time to have fun?
Before you become their slave--
Have you selected your purpose?
You better...
Before someone does it for you.
There is no place like home.

Tuesday, June 28, 2016

Jobs by Cassie Kinney

Our parents, grandparents and their friends
Come from a long line of Protestant work ethic--
That spirit of hard work & discipline,
Which will reward you with salvation.
They don't care what you do or how you do it--
"You have calling, a duty" they say,
And they don't care if that calling is the most destructive,
Pernicious politician that pollutes the water, air, & food.
They would rather you be a corrupt business person,
Than a socially, ecologically conscious non-consumer
That lives homeless, drifting from place & thoughts.
Get a summer job,
Get an after school job,
Get a job while in college,
Get a side job,
Do a side project.
From mowing lawns
To Store cashier to waitress.
All the jobs are taken,
All the jobs have been invented,
And nothing new can be.
They say there needs to be more jobs,
But here exists the most frivolous jobs--
Pining to a small rich niche in California:
The Life Coach,  yoga instructor,
A Barista, personal chef, musician.
In America, you can be one of the many managers,
Accountants, secretaries, financial consultants,
At a business--or any assemblage of those words. 
But mostly jobs around the world is indentured servitude--
From the factory, mill worker, to the picker.
Still, people all over the world get by on little...
IN America they sell meth, cans, and metal.
While the college kid sells weed, shrooms, X, and LSD.

Monday, June 27, 2016

Summer garden meditation by Cassie Kinney

At my garden sitting in the private fortress--
With edible plants growing around me,
I am taken away from my importance--
As a ray of light shines through the foliage of a hickory tree.

A mimosa tree leans over top,
And I try to block the thoughts of my "responsibilities"--
In nature's own beauty shop,
Thinking about life's endless possibilities.

When at exactly noon the sun blares down on my shoulders,
My shirt comes off and skirt too--
I feel like one of a million loners--
Part of the nature that don't care about revenue.

Here, I sit in silence, basking bare under the sun--
Waiting for a sign, miracle, or answer,
Wondering what it'd be like on the run--
Run from my problems, my confusion, my anger.

Tuesday, June 21, 2016

Black eyed susan flowers & dahlias floral photography by Cassie Kinney

What is patriotism?

"You're just the latest reigning, vigilantes self-appointed cultural watchdogs of the moment, devoting countless hours and enviable resources to this bogus mission of stifling creative expression in the name of patriotism...It is wanton distraction, because lets just be forthright and honest about what is truly unpatriotic. Abject poverty is unpatriotic. The failure of our education system is unpatriotic. Lies told by presidents as justification for war is unpatriotic. It IS unpatriotic that elected lawmakers fail to acknowledge, let alone address, real desperation" (Bette Porter character of the L Word).

Smoke by Cassie Kinney

She smoked up until she had heart surgery,
Maybe I thought it looked cool when she done it,
And I would be just as skinny if I smoked too.
When I was in high school visiting my grandma,
I would wait till she fell asleep,
Grab a DORAL cigarette out of her purse,
And take a couple puffs in the bathroom.
In my twenties when I would sleep over,
I'd wait till she went to her doctor's,
Then take out a joint from my wallet,
Walk under the peach tree in her backyard,
And take in the blissfulness of smoking a piece of nature.

The female body by Cassie Kinney

Poked, prodded,
And still mutilated.
Then American girls do it voluntarily.
Little ones turn into sex objects
Then grow old to be of no objective.
Women's breasts and ass exploited,
While bureaucracy censors her body when she bleeds,
Or when her nipple is out to breastfeed.
So don't give me none of that bullshit about 
"Women need to stop modeling Disney princesses",
When it was men who constructed these fantasies,
And instead we modeled after Superwoman.
Television televising little girls to be something unattainable,
Has nothing to do with how little girls actually live.
Little girls turn into single moms living with their mom;
They turn into working class women in factories;
Underpaid nurses getting overworked;
Little girls turn into strippers that love their job;
Or giving blow jobs at eighteen & fucking to pay bills.
I know there's inspirational women,
And I know there's rich women,
I just don't know them personally because...
The stories of the women I know personally,
Are a story that is painful, exhausting.
Little girls turn into old women--
Who live for their grandchildren.
Their story is recycled through the little girls they raise.

men by Cassie Kinney

I have heard enough of the recycled elitist man's opinion.
I have been told to listen to music created by men,
Read books written by men and their philosophies.
I have been told to watch male-centric homo-erotic movies;
Vote for white men, adore art by white men;
Laugh at the white man's racist, sexist jokes.
Streets, statues, celebrations, and days named after them.
Money, language, politics in their hands...
Sculpting men's faces into a fucking mountain!

Take down the statues of dictators,
Rename the bridges and streets;
And paint the colors of the people across our faces--
Across the world to unite us in our races.
Teach the young ones the real history...
Without glamorizing presidents, America, and the flag.
Stop celebrating the 4th of July, Columbus, Thanksgiving, Christmas;
And burn the Constitution to reclaim our Freedom from our oppressor!

Lily flowers floral photography (Late June 2016) by Cassie Kinney

Friday, June 17, 2016

religion by Cassie Kinney

Replace man with people
From my generation,
Our grandmothers went to church,
And sometimes you went with grandma.
Our grandfathers stayed at home,
They wanted no one to bother them.
Our dads found religion later in life,
While mothers remain skeptical.
But once we turned 16,
We stand passively against religion
Because it is a symbol of patriarchy & hate;
And rebel against close-mindedness & anti-science.
In our minds the bible is illogical,
As well as contradictive.
And my generation won't have it!
We stand apart from religion
Creating our own ideologies.
If god already planned our fate,
Then why do I need to pray?
And if thou shalt not covet,
Then why was god so jealous?
If god made us all a certain way,
Then why try to be different?
It seems that some were fated for better lives,
And some were fated to suffer for the rest.

Look at the flip side by Cassie Kinney

The old woman says "there is generational poverty...the family don't work",
I say there is generational inheritance of wealth exploiting people.
Then she says, "people voted for Obama because he was black",
It was also because he was black that people didn't.
"'Men who feel like women' are a threat to restrooms" she goes on to say,
But doesn't give a shit that transgenders are actually threatened.
The conversation moves to abortion:
And take that damn pro-life poster out of your yard,
When you kill and have complete disregard for other animals.
Another conversation moves to technology:
"The technology that exists today isn't that good for us" She says.
What do you really mean?
"I'm glad civilians have the technology to record cops behaving badly"
"Well, there's two sides to the story" her son interjects,
He goes on to say: the news doesn't tell the whole story--
"I agree...FOX news doesn't present the whole story either!" I laugh.
Somehow BLACK LIVES MATTER gets brought up:
"Black people feel like their life don't matter!"
She: "Why?" And I stare confused,
"Because of genocide, slavery, segregation..."
"But that was in the past..." She finishes.
"Segregation among rich, whites and poor people of color still exists"
Then the son says, "I wouldn't want to live next to a rich person"...
"But the point is: no one should live in substandard housing,
Substandard education, substandard healthcare;
Be subjected to the police preying on their neighborhoods, etc, etc, etc".
But everyone seems contradictive in their way of thinking,
And Laws are just as contradictive as people.

Thursday, June 16, 2016

Their divorce by Cassie Kinney

In childhood and through adolescents I went to my grandmother Jasmine's house every weekend. And every weekend was spent with my mother sitting at the table making conversation with grandma, while my father either was off hunting with his cousins, or getting drunk and passing out. My mother would sit in her head replaying the moment when she made the mistake of marrying my father. And I wonder if she regretted it the very moment it happened. And through it all, I had no idea, and just assumed we were all happy and would live together forever.
For 18 years, she probably wanted to runaway from the same mundane routine. Even though her routine is just as mundane as it always has been, it is at least on her terms as an independent woman. I have no doubt that she resents every bit of him, even though she made four beautiful children with him.
As a kid, I was never aware of them having sex, until I overheard one conversation they had. Before they divorced, I wouldn't be surprised if they weren't having sex at all for months or longer. Because none of my siblings and I really had bedrooms or beds for that matter, sometimes we would sleep in my parents bedroom. One night I was pretending to be asleep in their room with the door open. I hear my mother saying something like "No" or some kind of refusal of sex, and I hear my father say, "So you expect me to jack off in the bathroom?" And something in my mind changed from then on about my perspective on men and relationships. I quickly fell asleep.
One day before I went to church, at the age of 14 or 15, he sat at his computer desk after we got back from grandma Jasmines. There, an envelope with a letter inside was situated on the keyboard. He opened it up and looked at me: "Your mother wants to get a divorce." I hug him and feel his confusion, and it's no telling what he did when he dropped my siblings and I off at church. Mom was probably at my grandma Lucy and grandpa George's house at the time, and stated that's where she would be and to take care of the kids for now.
Those months blurred together, because it seemed like he pleaded to mom and said he would change, and in fact quit drinking before all of this. Mom stayed at my grandparents, and dad put us on the bus for school and I really don't remember him working much or at least not a lot back then while my mother worked nights as a nurse. When all of us went to bed, he stayed up watching porn in the dark kitchen with the computer light reflecting across his glasses. 
Eventually mom came back home and dad struggled to made some peace, and it just wasn't working for mom, so she told dad to move out. He packed up some of his stuff to live with grandma Jasmine, funny enough, back in his old bedroom. I remember the day he was taking his stuff while everyone except me was out of the house, and he took our desktop computer (the only thing in the world I treasured.) And maybe it upset him because I didn't cry that he was leaving, and I cried that he was taking the computer. I screamed for him to leave the computer.
Another memory I have after that was dad moving back in, and that evening as I was pretending to nap on the couch, I hear conversations between my dad and brother. My dad said he wanted me to go with him to help him pack up his things, and my brother told him that I (me) thought dad was weird. I felt how uncomfortable that was for everybody in the room and so I get up and help dad pack up his shit again to bring back. Well very soon after that, he was moving back out to live with his mother. Quickly he got a job at a factory and dated some women. One black woman he wanted to date, his mother (my racist grandmother) told him he wasn't allowed.
Between all of those moments, I struggled with my own relationship with the boy next door. I felt like I was in the middle of my parents' divorce, getting pushed and pulled and dragged, all the while I was sneaking my next door neighbor boyfriend in my bedroom at night to have sex. Surprisingly my dad never found the boy next door in my room even though we were very loud and the bed squeaked. Eventually my mom knocked on my door one night and asked who I was talking to, and of course I said: "I'm talking to myself" because that's actually not that weird for our family. The boy next door sneaked out of the window and shoeless into the night.
During all of this horrible shit with my parents, I experienced my first love and breakup, and I dated another boy I had intercourse with a couple times, and I left him to go back with the boy next door. And not long afterwards, the boy next door became the man that has lived with me for the last 11 years. I went to college to party, get shit faced, high, tripped. And those years pass so fast, although it does seem like the hard parts never end. And I've had terrible moments in my life that I feel will never end, and somehow they do resolve themselves--but I'm stuck replaying the past in my head.
This is but one story of my life, and I am the product of the many other stories that form their own dimensions. I have some animosity left for my dad that may be because of my mother, but he is a changed person. He is a person I can't relate to, I can't have a conversation with, nor can I tell good stories or anything about my life because we are so distant-- I wouldn't know where to begin. He really doesn't know me and I don't know him, and I write this to express what I remember of him and what he doesn't know of me.

Wednesday, June 15, 2016

Grab that gun by Cassie Kinney

In this kind of world, we fight and kill.And today, I say give every queer, woman and minority a gun--
To defend themselves from supremacist patriarchal injustice.
And if that doesn't work,
We make communities for the disadvantaged,
The ostracized, the freaks, the geeks,
And women of the world to feel safe.
The guns are not the problem nor the solution,
It is love, because love is love is love.

dedicated to the lives lost in Orlando Florida, June 2016

Sunday, June 12, 2016

A night that you couldn't forget by Cassie Kinney

We sat across from our friends at a diner, we watched them eat  as we argued with one another. He said something rude about me, then I would say something equally offensive. Our friends just stared at us hoping that the night was over, but it had just begun. He had just got back from living in Virginia for several months, and moved back in with me. The pretext to him coming back home was because I procured an online relationship with a boy who preyed on me. One night after an art show, I kiss this boy in the back of his friends car (the friend we are with at the diner). Somehow, through visceral abilities, he knew that I was up to something that night, to which he found out about everything, thus ending the relationship with the boy. And those feelings led to anger which had been building up from that night till this moment. "Well, I fucked Travis, and made out with Ron!" I said in a puerile manner, to which he replied back, "Well, I cheated on you with a girl that I had up against the wall and fucked her until she came all over my dick."  "Nice," I said. "Can we just go and watch this fucking movie?"  
We left the diner to watch a movie. I was struggling to concentrate throughout the movie, and kept replaying the words we exchanged. Afterwards, the four of us got into my friend's boyfriend's car to go home. First we stopped at a gas station as the night grew on, and the dew on the car showed the evidence of that night with that boy. As he and I sit in the back seat, my friends looks back at me and smirks a little, and I look at the back that says the words "I love Ron" marked in the foggy window. He goes to see what I'm staring at in disbelief, and asks, "Did you write that?" My friend's boyfriend's car was the place that I kissed that boy, and we wrote all over the windows in that moment, that seemed to have only lasted a minute or two. And there the words of my shame were written plainly for my partner, my friend and everyone else to witness. My friend's boyfriend quickly says "Oh, I wrote that" as if that was going to come off as the truth. My partner gets out of the car and goes inside the store with my friend's boyfriend while I wipe away the humiliation. They were words I didn't mean, and at the time I'm not sure what convinced me to write them because this boy lied to me and conned me into liking him and apparently had other "women-on-the-side", because he was supposed to have been on a date with my other best friend's sister. 
Later that night, and I'm not sure how she found out, but she cursed at me for ruining a date between her sister and that boy.  Those days are so long gone, but I still think of the pain in that dimension of my life. I still hold onto the thoughts that puncture. Later that night, after our friends dropped us off at our house, I couldn't hold back the tears any more. I ran to the corner of the living room and hid my face, and just like a man, he yelled at me until he found a way to have sex with me that night. Needless to say, my friends never double-dated with me ever again.      

Monday, June 6, 2016

50 people on the secret I am terrified to tell (article)

50 people on the secret I am terrified to tell from Thought Catalog by Chrissy Stockton

1. Two and a half years ago I was in dire financial straights, so I sold my home to keep my struggling business afloat. I neglected to tell the owners that they have an 800 sq. ft. bunker on the property that I built about seven years ago. The bunker that I’ve called home since I sold it. The entrance to it is well-hidden, but I still come and go very early/very late in the day. I’m a single man who keeps to himself. I’m now in a situation where I could move somewhere else, but I love this hidden paradise so much.


2. I cut off all contact with everyone I know and moved to Kenya, I tell people a fake name and a fake background and have made it appear to my family that I died on boat trip in the Pacific. No I am not joking. I am dead in the United States.


3. I run a cake business. I charge people hundreds for wedding cakes… Every last one is made using Pillsbury cake mix I buy for $1 a box at Walmart. I suck at baking. Every time I’ve ever tried to make a cake from scratch it sucked. But baking is like.. My whole deal. My friends all call me the cake girl. It’s like my whole life is a lie. People compliment my cakes all the time. Telling me how delicious they are. Telling me it’s so much better than box mix cake. Telling me they could never bake a cake so delicious. Well guess what? For $1, they too can make a cake just as delicious. Just add oil, eggs and water. In my defense, I love cake decorating. I make all of the frostings and fondant from scratch. I just hate baking fucking cakes!! I base my prices mostly on the decoration of the cakes and not of the cake itself of that makes sense. Still… No one knows about this except my husband. Even my best friends think I fucking slave over the oven mixing and baking these damn cakes. I have been doing this for YEARS. If anyone knew my business and reputation would be in the toilet for sure. :/ I keep telling myself I have to learn how to make the damn cakes without the box mixes, but I never do it. I feel like such a sham sometimes.


4. I once helped out my a female friend’s family by taking care of their cat for a week. Every day for a week, I would go over there and snoop around their house. I found my friend’s diary, and proceeded to read the entire thing. I used this information to get her to like me, and she is currently my wife.


5. I don’t want to be with my girlfriend anymore, but she might have cancer and I feel like I need to stay in the relationship.


6. I faked the last two years of college education. My parents put so much pressure on me I couldn’t handle it (I was suffering from severe depression and anxiety) so I faked it all. Lied to everyone. Made up fake transcripts. I just got my foot in the door in my desired field thanks to a friend as they hired me as a subordinate. This place only hires college grads but no one double checked my credentials since I was recommended. My hopes is that if I need to find another job I’ll have been at this place long enough to get it by experience alone (I work for a very prestigious company). I’m not bad at my job. I’m actually quite good. But my fear is eventually I’ll hit a wall and the lie will come to light. No one has known this for the better part of a decade. It’s a relief to finally say it “out loud.” I can’t even tell those I love. My silence is my prison.


7. When I was 17 I had a argument with my father and told him to fuck off, later that evening he hung himself. Our argument was the last time he spoke to anyone in our family and for that I feel a terrible amount of guilt for. Instead of him saying good bye and I love you to my mom and brothers he got told to fuck off before he went and killed himself. My punishment is to live the rest of my days in shame and guilt. He never left a note either.


8. I used to be a Police/Fire/911 Dispatcher, but had to quit because it nearly made me suicidal. I actually had thoughts, but had to drive 40 miles to go to a center/hospital where no one knew me for help. I have nightmares about a few calls I took where the caller killed themselves, shot someone else, or passed away on the phone with me. To this day, a few years after resigning, I still can’t listen to a phone ring, or sirens go off without having a mild panic attack. I am fairly sure it’s a form of PTSD, with flashbacks, nightmares, panic attacks, and an inability to function sometimes, but I’m embarrassed and scared to tell my fiancĂ©, or go to a doctor for it. I know there are soldiers out there with real PTSD that deserve help far more than me… I am very good at hiding it though. I also sometimes wait until my fiancĂ© goes to sleep, and I will then go sit and pretty much cry for several hours. It’s hell.


9. Everyone thinks I have a good job and roommates but I’ve been homeless and a prostitute for over year.


10. IT guy here, it’s amazing what people will do on their computers and say in their emails despite having to sign a waiver that all computer activity at work is monitored and recorded. I have half the company’s banking, social media and personal email account info and passwords. I know who is secretly banging who at the office behind their spouse’s backs. I know who is cybering at work and jerking it in the bathroom almost daily. At least they tell their sex chat partner they’re running off to the bathroom to jerk it, haven’t felt the need to check the validity of that one. I know when people are having martial problems, financial problems, I even know one person here had their children taken away because a social worker found cocaine in their house. I know who is embezzling money, I know when people get fired for completely bullshit reasons (like they just want to replace them with someone younger and nicer on the eyes), and I know who my boss is buying xanax and vicodins from. Basically I have a treasure trove of my coworker’s secrets. I won’t actively do anything with this info, but it’s nice knowing I have the ammunition there if something were to ever happen.


11. There was a girl who I had a crush on the moment I saw her on my college campus. She ended up dating a douchebag dude a few weeks later. I happened to end up sitting in a study room with him and a few mutual friends. He talked about how he didn’t think she was that attractive and how he liked other girls. I wrote the girl an anonymous email using one of those websites telling her about the things I heard and how the guy was a dick. She ended up breaking up with him after she found out he was cheating. The girl is now my girlfriend of 6 months. She has no idea (and is sitting across from me in the library). I’ve never told anyone this before.


12. When i was 15 my parent’s were going through a divorce, my mom worked night shifts and my dad was living with a friend of his. One night my sister who was 19 at the time came home pretty drunk from a party. She was acting goofy and fell on the couch next to me. She started grabbing my leg and laughing and we started fondling. We ended up having sex right there. When we woke up the next day she had no recollection of the night before so i just kept my mouth shut. Fast forward to when i’m 18. Sister is home from college and dad is over for a visit. they get into an argument and in a fit of rage my dad announces how he has never forgiven her for the abortion she got when she was 19 and subsequently killing His grand child. (he’s very religious). I then realize the baby she aborted was in fact mine…..and as far as i know, i am the only one who knows since she has never mentioned that night. 


13. Not me but one of my frat brothers in college knocked a girl up. A month later she had had lost the baby. I was using his phone one night to find my phone when his dad texted him, i swiped the lock causing it to open up the chat thread revealing the messages that explained the story. The day he found out he drove with some of our other brothers to Mexico and he came back with RU486, the abortion pill. He had apparently spoken to his dad who forced him under threat of pulling him out of college and cutting him off to secretly sneak the girl the abortion pill. I dont know the logistics of how he did it but apparently he secretly poisoned her causing her to lose the baby. He has no idea I know and I doubt anyone else does.


14. I have a blind brother. When we were young, I used to get so frustrated at all the extra attention he received and how I had to be more responsible with my sibling than my peers. So, when my brother and I would go play, go to the store, or just generally go anywhere without adults, I would abandon him somewhere unfamiliar to him. Then, I would stand off quietly and watch the anxiety set in as he tried to figure out where he was and what was going on.


15. I accidentally killed seven people. I put a rag into a new water heater exhaust to keep debris out and installed it in a rental. I get a call a week later, there’s been an accident. I show up and there’s a ton of ems and police. They ask me where the gas shutoff is, and I go down to shut the gas off and see the end of the rag I forgot sticking out of the top of the heater. Ripped the rag out, shut the gas off and head upstairs only to be told all the tenants were DEAD. I drink all day now and sleep. It’s killing me from the inside every single day, but if I say anything my family is ruined; we have a bunch of rental properties and we’d be shut down.


16. I hate all of my friends. Literally. I don’t have anything in common with any of them, and don’t care. But I’m too scared to be alone and have no one else to go to so I keep hanging around with them.


17. My own secret, is that I’m still deeply in love with my (now married with kids) first love, nothing will ever happen and it is ridiculously hurtful, but w/e, life goes on.


18. I have memories of my sister (five years older) and I playing a roleplay game when I was younger that I think would be considered sexual abuse/molestation if I told anyone. I don’t remember how old we were, but I know she was around the age where her breasts were developing. When home alone we would play a role play game where she was a boss and I was a secretary, and the boss would always sexually harass the secretary. It ended in my sucking on my sister’s breasts while she would lie on the couch with her shirt off. My memory has always been really horrible, so I only remember patches of this, but I remember that it never felt sexual. I don’t actually trust my memory enough to feel confident that this really happened. I love my sister, she’s my best friend and I would never want to damage our relationship by ever bringing this up and asking her what really happened. It is a secret I will carry with me and never reveal.


19. I still have “imaginary friends.” I’m almost 30. I lost them for a while. I don’t know why or how, but it they were gone. I couldn’t see them or hear them any more, not the way I used to when I was younger. It made me was miserable. I kept hoping for a way to get them back. Two weeks ago, I somehow managed to finally break through whatever the barrier was. I have spent the past two weeks hanging out with, and talking to, a character from a well-known TV show. I can’t really “see” him visually, but I can see him with my mind’s eye. He goes almost everywhere with me. He’s sitting on my bed right now, waiting for me to get off my computer. (I promised I would get off a little while ago, but I had to check reddit one last time.) He’s been coming to work with me every day for the past two weeks. I share my food with him. (I kind of mentally duplicate it for him, since he can’t touch it in reality.) I love it. I’m happy again. I realize most people would say he isn’t real, but something about him is. I don’t care. He’s real to me.


20. I used to masturbate a lot. And when I was 10 I had a technique where I’d let off a load into a sock then wash it and quickly dry it, now I couldn’t leave it hanging outside or use a dryer otherwise my family would’ve seen it and probably smell it or whatnot. So I’d put it inside my gas heater unit. Unfortunately my sock had caught on fire inside the unit, blew it up and set my house on fire. Only my brother was home at the time, and he managed to survive the house did not. For 5 years we stayed from caravan park to caravan park whilst we waited for confirmation that it was not arson and we could receive an insurance payout. We eventually did and scraped together money to start rebuilding the house. The house is still being rebuilt to this day and it shames me anytime I have to visit my parents living in a tiny mobile home where my backyard once was.


21. I have been pretending to be colorblind to everyone I have ever known, including my own parents since I was in 3rd grade. I am now 28 years old. I even convinced an optometrist of it.


22. When I was 13 I caught my father in bed with my 15 year old brother’s girlfriend (also 15). I haven’t seen her since, but I’ve been blackmailing my father with it for the last 6 years.


23. I was hit by a truck a few years back and was diagnosed with retrograde amnesia and awarded a 2.5 million dollar settlement. I have used this money to move into Florida and I currently live in Boca Raton. I faked the whole thing because I hated by life and wanted an excuse to leave. I haven’t seen my family since and have made a new life.


24. my grade 6 teacher let me touch her boobs once.


25. After graduating from high school, I went to a small out-of-state college where no one from high school knew me. I was told many times how impressive my false Australian accent was, so I decided it would be great fun to go through college pretending to be from Australia. All of my friends and even my girlfriend of two years think I’m Australian. I have a completely fake Australian identity, family, and past. I will soon be graduating, and I plan on asking the girl to marry me. Everything she knows about me is Australian I don’t know how to tell her she doesn’t really know me. Guess I’m forever a bloke.


26. My Great Uncle Jack used to live with my family. One day, he got drunk and had a bad fall that ended up causing him to bleed out, I ended up finding him (I was 14 at the time, and had never seen such an awful sight) and lost consciousness due to all the blood. When I eventually recovered, I called the ambulance and stayed with my uncle, he died in the back of the ambulance, holding my hand. No one knows about what happened to me, and if they did they would realize that I’m the reason he’s dead.


27. I’ve never attempted to kill myself, and I doubt I ever will, but I just want to die. I’m an incredibly happy guy odd enough. I truthfully am happy, but whenever I think about getting shot, or getting cancer, I get a little excited. I wish I was one of those deaths on the news, shoot I’d love to take someones place, they want to be here more than me. I’ll never actually kill myself even if its just for the sake of others who need me, but I can’t stop wishing that someone else would kill me. I’m done being here, I’m done dealing with the crap. I’m just burnt out and I don’t want to be here anymore.


28. Every night when I go to bed, I have a little pillow and assortment of blankets that I pretend is this girl I like. She would never like me in real life (in fact, she doesn’t), so I just play pretend. It’s inherently creepy but it’s what keeps me from being a total wreck all the time.


29. Last summer, when I was 16, I found out that I was pregnant. I come from an extremely conservative and Christian household, so I was too scared to tell my parents. They also didn’t know that I was dating my boyfriend of the time, because he is Hispanic. I decided to get an abortion, but didn’t have the money to fund it. My boyfriend had a job, but kept encouraging me to keep the baby. I tried and tried to gather the $300-600 necessary for it, but it was so hard. I ended up having to order RU486 (the abortion pill) from a sketchy website online with my own money, because I was so scared and desperate. I ended up getting really sick from it and had to explain everything to my mom on the way to the hospital. Since I hadn’t gone to the doctor before, I wasn’t aware of how far along I was. I was over 6 months pregnant, and had hid it from everyone in my life, other than my boyfriend. I hadn’t imagined the emotional side effects, or what would happen afterwards. I ended up giving birth to a baby much bigger than I could have even imagined, and he suffocated to death almost immediately. As if the shock of this wasn’t enough, the doctor called the police and I got investigated by a homicide detective. I hated myself to the core and still do a few months later. The thing is, that no one would expect this from me. At all. People think of me as such a “goody two shoes” and I was recently voted “class clown.” No one could imagine that I had an illegal, late-term abortion at 3 in the morning. No one could even tell that I was 6 months pregnant, because I only gained 6 or 7 pounds. No one would imagine that I’m being investigated by the homicide detectives or that I fight off thoughts of suicide daily.


30. I was falsely accused of raping a girl in high school. The resulting ostracizing was very scarring, and that is just the tip of the iceberg. I outran the stigma when I left the state for college. If it ever catches up to me like it was in high school, I’d probably become suicidal. How many times can you endure people telling you that you’re a monster before you believe them?


31. When I was about 12 I went with some family to the family dollar. My mother  and cousins went off to go look at generic groceries so I decided I would just spend my time hanging out in the toy aisle, in the toy aisle there would always be these bags of marbles that other kids would open and leave laying there so I decided to fling marbles across the floor and one just happened to reach one of the far off aisles. So about two minutes later I hear a loud crash and someone scream “Somebody help this man!”. Being the curious child I was, I ran over to see what the commotion was about and I find everyone gathered around this guy who had seem to have fallen from the ladder as he was getting something off the top shelf. The guy is seizing out and blood is coming from his head as he laid there and his face seemed to be turning blue. My mother whisked me and my cousins away and we left. Next time we went we talked to the front cashier and she said that they called the paramedics but by the time they got there he had died from choking. Apparently when he had the seizure he was choking on his own tongue. The cause for the fall according to the front cashier was that he had put the ladder on a marble and didn’t check it before he got on it. When I heard what the cashier said I just stood in disbelief thinking I was going to jail, I tried telling my mother many times but all she did was say that I imagined it.


32. I’m a 25-year-old female high school teacher. I’ve gotten myself off on multiple occasions while fantasizing about fucking one of my 16-year-old male students on top of the desk in my classroom.


33. My mom died when I was 17 and when it comes up I use it to garner attention for myself. In reality, I never met her and she has never meant anything to me other then a name. I feel so empty


34. I told my entire family I was able to transfer out of community college and into a university, but I never finished up the requirements. So since I live at home, every day instead of going to school I go to the local library and bs. My lies are so extensive, I even go to the campus and meet my girlfriend for lunch sometimes. I’ve made fake transcripts to show my family, and to make it look like I’m actually studying I go to MIT opencourseware to look up facts that I “learned in class” that day. I have become a remarkable liar. I hope to be transferring in the fall and then I look forward to living a normal life. Coming clean is not an option at this point.


35. After my mother left my father, he developed a really inappropriate attachment to me. I was 19 and my brother moved in with his girlfriend. Dad was suicidal, and had no family or friends close by, so I was it. For the first year, he would wake me up at 2am to sit with him every night until he cried himself to sleep. After 4 years of cleaning up after him, making sure he ate, and generally remained alive, I discovered that he had been using the attic access in his closet to sit above my personal bathroom and watch me through a peephole. I wanted to dismiss it as paranoia, but there were too many physical signs that made it reality. Moved out shortly after that because I couldn’t bear to look at him. I’m 29 now, and no one in my family has any idea that this ever happened. I know that he was going through a rough patch, but I feel violated and dirty every time I think about it still. I also have huge amounts of guilt because I hate him for putting me through it.


36. This will probably never be seen by anyone but fuck it. My father once owned a cat who loved to suck our earlobes for whatever reason. About half a decade ago my father left me alone in his apartment with his cat and I don’t know exactly why but I just grabbed the cat, went in the bathroom with it, laid on my back, put it on my chest and let it suck my earlobes while masturbating. I find myself fucking disgusting when I think about it but I still think that it was one of my best faps.


37. My dad got rich by associating with a scumbag that has his own construction company. Scumbag bribes city officials to approve unstable skyscrapers that would collapse with a 4.0 earthquake and my dad makes all the paperwork discretely. In exchange, multimillionaire scumbag persuades his other loaded friends to hire my dad as their lawyer. I’m now trying to get into office in the next 30 years to revert most of what my family has contributed to.


38. I’m a 30 year old woman and I’ve never had sex or kissed anyone. I’ve never had a boyfriend or a girlfriend. There’s nothing physically wrong with me, nor am I unpleasant to look at. I masturbate a few times a month, mostly because of a biological need rather than actual desire, I guess. I’ve never fantasised about anyone or felt any physical desire for anyone.


39. Me and my cousin have been doing it for 10 years now. It started when she was 12 and I was 13. We had to babysit the younger kids in our family while the parents went to a party, and when they fell asleep, me and her got to talking about a lot of stuff. I made a move and started kissing her, and she didn’t resist. We ended up doing it on her bed that night. We would end up fucking almost every weekend when we lived with our parents, telling our parents we were going out to hang out with some friends, but actually hook up. I’m 23 with my own apartment now, and she comes over almost every day to make out/fuck


40. My boyfriend and I met at the brothel were I used to work. As a whore.


41. I do not have a lot of confidence, and can never ask girls out. I met my current wife by installing a keystroke logger on her computer, and intercepting facebook messages and chats with her friends until I confirmed she liked me. That way I knew exactly how to approach her. I orchestrated our entire early courtship to my advantage. If she knew she would likely divorce me because I delved deep into her personal life and found out some crazy things about her past.


42. I am an active opiate addict. I use every single day. Everyone in my life – even the people closest to me – think that I have been clean for over a year. I’m a good actor and liar, it comes with the territory of addiction. I don’t want this, I hate myself, I want to stop more than anything. It’s so damn hard.


43. 26 year old male, and have “visited” with 30+ escorts over a 4 year period.


44. I was jumped by a group of gang members a number of years ago. I was hospitalized, wound up with a concussion, broken jaw, 46 stitches and tens of thousands of medical bills I am still unable to pay. I know who all the gang members are and directly recognized one of the assailants and filed a police report. He had an “alibi” and nothing ever came of my case. I had run in with them again a few years after that and ended up with stitches and no charges sticking to my attackers. I see these gang members around town still. I get chased out of bars, and there are certain places I don’t frequent because I know they may be there. I bought a hand gun just a few short years ago for my own protection and knowing these guys are not just going to let me slide if they run into me again. I carry it if I know I’ll be in “problem areas” and neighborhoods where these guys may be. One night, not too long ago, my girlfriend an I were walking downtown when I noticed a large group of them hanging outside a bar. I told my girlfriend to wait for me at another bar not too far away while I pulled my hat down over my face and put my hood up. I walked across the street to a construction zone where I could keep out of sight and still keep an eye on them. A half hour later two of them came walking across the street passed the construction zone. I popped out drew my gun and fired at them twice, unknowingly missing the first one, but hitting the other in the gut. He keeled over and let out a long groan before falling to the ground. I looked for the fist one and he was laying in the street a few yards away (ducking for cover). Thinking I had hit them both I ran around the corner pocketed my gun then ran to hide by an over pass a number of blocks away. I texted my girlfriend, she came and met up with me, and we took a cab home which drove by the scene. The man that I shot is now in a wheel chair, paralyzed from the chest down. They (the police, the gang members, the community) didn’t know who shot them, they think it was rival gang members. I still see them around town. They are not any more weary, but I am armed and ready. I’ve only told my best friend this story. He told me not to tell anyone else, not only because I could get in trouble, but because it would change peoples perception of me. My girlfriend never really asked what happened that night but she expects me to tell her at some point.


45. My mother has multiple sclerosis and her health has deteriorated fast since I have been born. She was gone from being able to walk, to needing a cane, to needing a walker, to complete wheelchair usage, and now completely bedridden. She has a urinary tract infection that is untreatable and is constantly in physical and emotional pain. She takes prescribed medication for depression and bipolar disorder, as well as sleeping pills. Throughout my childhood she has tried to kill herself three times because she wants the pain to stop. In the middle of the night, I bought something from a dealer and snuck into my house to give it to my mother. She passed away within 2 hours. My dad, sisters and brother have no clue.


46. While on deployment, I killed a man in a coup de grace. The feelings of taking a man’s life always weigh a heavy burden on me every day. No one like’s hurting people. He had been hit by some of our mobile artillery. While part of me wanted the bastard to be in pain, it wasn’t right. My medic was busy with my wounded, and as the officer on duty I took out my .45 and put one in his head. I knew my boys wouldn’t say anything. Most just watched, accepted it as a fact of war, and kept walking .I remember throwing up afterwards. I came home and everyone acted like I was a hero. I never felt like more of a sham my entire life.


47. I have herpes. I know that doesn’t sound like anything particularly horrible after these devastating tales of incest, rape and other sad/terrible/morally ambiguous situations, but I feel like it has ruined my life. I feel trapped, like I will never find someone who could actually like me enough to see past it. No one knows. No one would even suspect. I’m quiet and nerdy, keep to myself, keep my nose clean, etc. But I am naive when it comes to guys. Or I was. A boyfriend in college didn’t tell me and gave it to me… and then cut off contact when I “realized”. I had only lost my virginity a year before that. I know it seems like nothing in comparison. I knows some would even find it funny. But you have no idea what it’s done to me. It’s destroyed me. I’ve considered suicide, its only been this past year where I don’t want to walk to a nearby bridge and jump. I feel just… wasted. Even if you’re shy, you still at least have a chance with your crush or someone you like. With this, all my chances have dropped to zero. If you like someone, think about it… would you still like them, want to date them, if they had herpes?


48. I have terrible credit. I have debts from 10 years ago that I never paid off. My wife doesn’t know.


49. My brother committed suicide in 1994, shortly thereafter I intercepted a letter to my parents from his girlfriend. She was pregnant and wanted them to know and asked if they wanted to be in the babies life. I burned the letter and have never told them. She never contacted them again and I did so many drugs that I buried that secret deep in my subconscious.


50. I’m white and my wife is half black. I fantasize that she’s my slave when we have sex. She thinks I’m the least racist person she’s ever known.


Sunday, June 5, 2016

Things little girls learn (short story/poem) by Cassie Kinney

Oh, there's lots of things little girls do in private...
At 3 we start running around the house naked,
Strutting nudist in high heels and a purse.
At 4 we rub our genitals on couch corners,
Like little humping dogs on stuffed animals.
Growing up you're discovering your body.You finger your butt--scratch and sniff,
While you're still playing with barbies,
You make them kiss and hump.
When your mom, dad, or grandma kiss you,
And you watch how they kiss one another,
You start experimenting on others.
Or when you're sleeping over at friend's houses,
You're laying side by side their parents in the next room,
And you kiss one another to test the boundaries.
If you were like me,
Friends would take baths together, comparing bodies,
Commenting on our breast sizes and pubic hair.
At 10, girls have slumber parties,
And every girl showed their little boobies to everyone in the circle.
Do boys have similar experiences growing up as this?
Us girls were constantly learning new info on our bodies,
And talking about our development like we're conducting research.
There's lots of things little girls learn about sex and sexuality
From the time you're 3 and you're discouraged for being nude.
We start running around the house naked,
Strutting nudist in high heels and a purse. 
At 4 we rub our genitals on couch corners,
Like little humping dogs on stuffed animals.
Growing up you're discovering your body
Like scratching and sniffing our butts.
While you're still playing with Barbies,
You make them kiss and hump.
When you watch how your mom and dad kiss one another,
You start experimenting on others.
One example is when you're sleeping over at a friend's houses
And you start testing the boundaries with one another.
As you lay side by side as their parents are in the other room,
You pretend like you’re sleeping but you’re kissing your best friend!

At 8, girls have slumber parties,
And every girl shows their little boobies to everyone in the circle.
Friends take baths together comparing bodies,
Commenting on our breast sizes and pubic hair.
Us girls are constantly learning new info on our bodies with one another,
And talking about our development like we're conducting research.
You learn about sex through twisted understandings from older girls
And older friends teaching you about periods and sex
Because your mother would not or did not give you 'the talk.'
She didn’t even tell you anything about a period,
Nor did you learn you could pee with your tampon in until you’re in college!

You learn about sex from late night Cinemax
When your dad would pass out with the channel on all night.
You sit and watch the TV brightly lit in the dark,
Peeking at the display of sex from the corner of the room.
At age 9, you're exposed to sex scenes that reflect fantasies into adulthood.
At age 11, you learn about sex through Ludacris' "What's your fantasy?"
But although you would rap along to the lyrics,
You're still not sure what all these metaphors are referring to!
At 13 and 14 you're with someone ‘outside’ of your ‘race’
And he is your first kiss and first time cyber sexting.
Then your teachers and peers are asking ‘why are you with him?’

We move on, where high school is new and thrilling
Because we have our first real adult relationships with people.
You sneak out of your bed room window
To hang out with the boy next door at 1 in the morning.
Y’all kiss in the grass after a moon light stroll,
Then he shows you what he’s packing in his step dad’s car.
Then girls start swapping first sexual experiences with friends,
Remembering the exact day and hour we first had intercourse.
And then there’s the devastating break ups,
Followed by another relationship that also leads to a break up.
If you grew up in the early 2000s,
You notice a new way sex is presented within this techno age.
We engage and create sexual encounters within this evolution,
Exchanging nude photos through email for these boys to see.
Little do we realize it is a picture that could last forever
To be seen and shared among his friends when you broke up with him.
You hear later from several different friends
That he is handing these pictures out for others to see.
And now you're asking yourself:

Almost 20 years has gone by in this techno age
So, kids don’t send nudes through email but through their phones.
With these phones, everything is more accessible,
Especially porn at your fingertips.
Because of the evolution of this face culture,
Sex is learned at an earlier age for all kids.
Kids ain’t learning about sex from school or their parents,
Kids learn about sex through a hyper masculine porn entity.
This plays on girls' insecurities which further serves to tell girls to be sexy
Then girls accept early on that sex is not for their pleasure.
Simultaneously girls are told not be having sex,
So, boys are reinforced with the idea that they get to have sex
While girls become the sources of sexual entertainment.

Flirting with boys turns into flirting with girls,
And asking them ‘Have you ever kissed a girl before?’
You’re both 20 years old and drunk--
Hoping they want to kiss just as much as you.
Sex and sexuality isn’t cut-and-dry when we’re older
Because we realize that sex and sexuality are complex.
These are the things we don’t learn in school,
These aren’t the things we learn from parents or friends either.
This complicated conversation about sex and sexuality
Can only be determined for you alone.