Broflakes

Apparently I come across as a maneater.

Well.  Allow me to rebut.

 

Don’t be such a fucking broflake.

 

I am a product of my environment.

I needed to be chewed up and spat out repeatedly,  before it even occurred to me that I could bite back.

Guess who did the chewing.  Mankind.  Guess who spat in my face.  Mankind.  Guess who fucked up my chi and my life…………

Me.  That was me.  I was complicit in my own self destruction and I knew it.  BUT-

I endured injustice and degradation on the daily for many years.  Abuse of both the overt and covert nature.  Emotional destruction.  Financial ruin.

It wasn’t until I found myself in my 30s, and still on my knees… that I even thought about standing up.

I walked away from the father of my sons with C-PTSD and severe anxiety.  Stop and take a minute to realize that you didn’t even know that about me.  You can’t tell, because I carry it so damn well.

Respect.

Perhaps you should also consider what it is that resulted in the development of such an appetite in the first place, too.  I wasn’t hungry until I found myself starved…. by the men who were supposed to fucking feed me.  They didn’t even like me, let alone invest anything in me.

Always the way though.  First I was weak, insignificant and unimportant.  I found some power and now I’m obviously dangerous, and should be stopped.

How dare I develop any self respect, in conditions as harsh as these?  I have the audacity to say “Fuck no, you will not treat me like that.”  What a fucking travesty.

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I know it’s uncomfortable.  But you should know something too.

I do not give a single fuck about the comfort level of those who stand in opposition of my right to enjoy this level of freedom.

Not a single fuck.

Why should I?

Where were they when I was in need?  Did they help me up when I fell on my arse?  No.  They held me down.  Few stood in my corner when it was time to fight.  So I had to do it mostly solo.

Exposure to high level narcissistic abuse and toxic masculinity, left a fucking bad taste in my mouth.  Excuse me if it offends you that I might try tasting a cock in an attempt to refresh my palette.

I thought guys liked blowjobs.  I’m confused.

I couldn’t even win when I was the most loyal and lovely submissive there was.  I realized I was caging myself with that title.  I discovered that the very things I was being punished for… like speaking up when I felt wronged……… were actually core parts of my personality.

I am a switch.  Not a sub, and not a slave.

And baby…. switches fucking switch.  It’s what we do.  Predictably unpredictable.

My dominant side cannot be squashed or controlled or punished out of me.  The punishments I didn’t deserve, only served to enrage me.  The ones I earned…. well that was different.  I accepted every strike with grace, and I loved the way he would look down at me and sneer.

I have a sickness, and I don’t want to get better.

It was my men who made me so damn ill in the first place though.  One by one, they all added a little of their own unique poison.  Every single one of them left me with a knife in my back.  I let them do that to me.

So I apologize if it’s awkward for you to witness me pull out those knives and use them to cut my motherfucking steak.  Casually.  So so casually.

They wanted to keep it casual.

So be it.

 

I’m not an evil man-eating cunt.  I’m a switch who was never allowed to switch, and a woman who was only ever good enough to fuck and discard.  The ones who stayed, couldn’t do so peacefully.  They weren’t satisfied with my devotion, and would only rest once I was completely enslaved.

Crazy bitches like me literally only exist because of the fuckboys who build us piece by piece, with their shitty misogynistic attitudes.

I love men.  Still.  I love them no matter what.

They just don’t love me back, unless I stay on my knees.

And I will NOT STAY DOWN.

So I will be hated, and be okay with that.  I don’t want to fight, even though these are fighting words.

If I’m telling you you’re a shit cunt, it’s not because I hate you, though.  It’s because I love you and know you can improve.

It’s because I can’t keep my truth in and can’t bite my tongue any harder.

 

I don’t eat men.  They eat me, and say I taste like candy.

Burn.

 

See.  I’m still sweet.

Now let’s hug it out.

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Amen.

 

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