exposed cerebral cortex of a proletariat bike slut

I was interupted from writing earlier by my best friends to come get me, which is the usual morning for me since they have been back from cali.

life is good, life is distracting me from the burning image of Abraham’s huge lubed up shaft…burned into my memory..

I’m drunk

I’m getting ready on my heated tile bathroom floors, I’m listening to beyonce on my new surround system, I’m watching my phone glow, I should be fucking over it.

what is the point of this activism if I still can’t escape it? he was the third fucking man that took when I said no…tried to take, I’m still surprised that I was able to get away.

my thoughts have been sprinting since it happened, my feelings running through me in fleeting seconds, my anger surging in…the best thing I can think to equate it to is the flaming geyser where I grew up, the same geyser I ran to as a kid, wondering why korey did the things to me he did while our brothers were downstairs playing video games.

what is the point in healing? the point is in coping, learning to cope, so when it happens again, as I’m certain it will, I can deal.  maybe, as the cops said, I can even let his finger get inside of me and not shower so I can get him for DNA. So his rich saudi family can buy him off, so OPEC wins again. Rape women, rape the planet. Rape the women with the money earned from raping the planet.

fuckkkkkk time to get drunk. again. and go the club so that men can lean up on me, try to buy me drinks in order to make it easier to take me home, try and hike up my short dress as the dance up on me, while I’m pounded up against the wall feeling their hard cock begging to get past the obstructions.

fucking tuesday at 90s night. awesome.

is this the normal life of a 21 year old college co ed? it seems to be.

why do we do this?