cat, the daughter of a desert flower.

people ask me how i live with myself. it's because i don't believe the narrative about me. i believed my body when it told me i was assaulted (manufactured consent by deception). i was the older person (and also a messed up kid trying to help) but that doesn't change anything.

i'm glad my body is so terrified of the McRib it has an allergic reaction to it. i'd be embarrassed to want to eat mystery meat molded into the shape of real food. [nic fit tweet]

someone please help me explain to the really hot guy about how sometimes i just feel so ugly i have to ruin everything

i swear one of these days i'm gonna stop hysterically sobbing. just watch. it'll happen

oh, Ray. i never get tired of having to listen to your completely moronic ass threaten to put two bullets into your own head every time i reject you

it was harder to block someone (again) who i love more than i can really put in words. but it would be a lot harder to try to remember that he violated the same boundary a dozen times and i shouldn't have to fight to keep my clothes on.

you have too many fingers. i can help you with that

🎵 tell me why 🎵 my dinner from last night was today'a tweet theme

i know for a fact they don't hand out subscriptions to the patriarchy with gym memberships so why are you fetishizing female friendships and slut-shaming sexual assault victims, big dawg?

(tw: this whole tweet is the kind of thing i need to scrub with steel wool over) hey booboo, do you still "miss" heing SA'd by your older brother, or are you just having too much fun pretending i'm the problem?