My thoughts on The Fault in Our Stars...so far. (Chapter 8 and the previous)

I’m still reading The Fault in Our Stars because reading while having responsibilities and a drama addiction is kind of tricky. (Yes. I know that too much television will rot my brain, but I can understand so much more Korean because of it. It’s educational, no?) I’m only within the eighth chapter, but I already feel as if this book is going to ruin my life for two-three weeks after my reading of it comes to its conclusion. I don’t know what will happen to Hazel or Augustus—I have tried very hard to stay away from spoilers on tumblr and other various websites. I do know that I am in the midst of crying as I write this, and if that is any indication of my future emotional state, then I ask that someone please send me a box of Kleenex because I’m down to my last five? I love Mr. Green’s characters so much already, and if I have to loose them, then I’m going to have to find a pint of Ben and Jerry’s. What all of this rambling means: I’m in love with

The Stupidville Rape Case

I’m so done with rape apologists. No one calls rape upon themselves. No one deserves to be raped. No survivor should be threatened with jail time or public shame. No survivor should even have to suffer the stigma of being labelled a “victim.” Lastly, no one should feel sorry for rapists, especially not because “they had their whole lives ahead of them.” What about the young woman they raped. Did she not have a life ahead of her? Now she has to deal with press and average people calling her a slut, blaming her for her rape, and deeming her a perpetrator of her own abuse. You know what?… FUCK. YOUR. APOLOGIST. BULLSHIT.

A moment of self reflection

I still have nightmares that one day, I will wake up and one side of my face will have dropped again. As much as I try not to hold so much value on my outer appearance, my subconscious is still terrified of dealing with everything (the pain, the stares, the stigma) that comes with hemifacial paralysis. I know that other people are suffering from worse, but at this moment, I’m vulnerable and slightly scared that I have become so reliant on my “normal” appearance. This is beyond my weight or my height, of which I try (keyword: TRY) to deal with the grace of someone who just doesn’t give a fuck what society thinks, but still, I’m frightened. I’m scared because I know how much society gleans about a person just from their face, and I know that if it were to happen again, it wouldn’t come with the taunting and mocking that occurred in my childhood…but my irrational fear stems on the hurt that so many caused, though as children, they had no idea of the lasting effects.