Priscilla Blossom

If you were a teenager in the late '90s or early 2000s, chances are you know about Livejournal.

[CN: rape, victim-blaming, mentions of sex work] I felt violated. I felt angry that no one had stopped him, or stopped me from going outside with him. That no one had noticed how intoxicated I was. That no one had cared. And most of all, I felt utterly confused as to why I still allowed him inside my house after everything that had happened.

You’ve been with me since birth, Belly. Back then, everyone thought you were the cutest thing ever. Now, I’m not positive, but I’m pretty sure my folks used to kiss you and blow raspberries on you the way I now do with my 2-year-old son.

As an adult, I’ve experienced more trauma than I ever knew possible. Between multiple sexual assaults, the unexpected death of my first child, the highly traumatic birth of my second child and his subsequent months spent in the NICU, I am often surprised that I am still standing.

Not every victim speaks out, and few actually report the crime to the authorities. If a friend happens to trust you with this information, it’s your duty as a human being to be there for them in every way possible.

[CN: ageism, sexism] What kind of screwed-up culture do we live in where young girls are considered to be sexual beings, but women over 40 are “too old” to be desirable?

When you lose a child, you no longer have the words to ask for help. It’s up to us on the outside to lend our support, and there are plenty of ways in which to do this.

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It would be a lie to say that I worked for a feminist porn company — it was run by a pair of sleazy men who were obviously not in it to improve the lives of women. But there were some aspects about it that were feminist.

I felt lonelier than I ever had before. I didn’t recognize who I was anymore. I tried to play my role, but inside I was drowning.