agp webweaves 002
excerpts of the fiction i've written, whatever has aesthetically plagued me lately, a playlist (don't stalk my acct) blah blah blah 🍉
“the hardest part has been learning how to take myself seriously when the entire world is constantly telling me that femininity is always inferior to masculinity”
― julia serano
their bodies colliding didn’t feel the same as they had with other men. other men were so selfish she rarely got to finish. other men were too persistent in forcing acrobatic movements or rabbit-like aggression as if they were performing in a studio film. all of their self gratifying, disgusting fantasies were plagued by the porn they watched. these men wanted to use her body as they pleased, treating her like another category on pornhub. the men that got the most excited about a woman with her genitalia were the ones who would ignore her requests for them to not ejaculate directly on her face. she hated feeling like a spectacle, but mostly because she was bad at it. she often lay completely still as men penetrated her, as if she were one of those silicone orifices you could purchase behind a beaded curtain.
“my one true love. my deformed or mutilated or diseased prince charming. my unhappily ever after. my hideous future. the monstrous rest of my life.”
― chuck palahniuk, invisible monsters
her roommate was this obsessive compulsive girl with a serious self-harm addiction, she had told her on the first day she was admitted that she had been hospitalized for drinking antifreeze. […] had a hard time listening to her roomie as she spoke because she would often trip over her own words, spit escaping her mouth, ecstatically regaling her with events at such a speed it seemed her body was keeping up with her brain. if […] wasn’t so sick from the many drug cocktails that landed her there, she would have a bit less patience for her. her name was bella which […] thought was ironic because she was super ugly.
people would tell her she looked so much better this way and it made her sick, she deeply prescribed to the heroin chic aesthetic and was pissed that this is what her body had succumbed to, something ‘natural’ looking. […] still wore her big sunglasses, and carried her venti coffee as if she was a waif from the early 00’s but it deeply upset her that she was no longer perceived as a stick thin girl who might buckle at the knees and drop dead in traffic, instead she was just viewed as someone with beautiful, flowing hair.
[…] dropped her cigarette out in an old beer can on her end table and put on her robe. she looked at the clock and decided she could masturbate quickly before starting her makeup.
“changes and progress very rarely are gifts from above. they come out of struggles from below..”
― noam chomsky
he lived in assisted housing and had a rising fascination with narcotics. once his interest in methamphetamines had exacerbated so poorly, she was woken up at 5am to a phone call where he cried between panicked breaths. it was difficult for her to understand what he was saying between hyperventilating and a cacophony of hiccups but finally he was able to let out that he’d spent so long masturbating he had given himself ‘a scabby dick’.
