I would seriously like to hug him, because he said this:
“If that kid can survive that, if I can survive what happened to me, you can at least hear about it and think about it. Y’know? It’s not that much to ask.”
And also because, well, just look at him:
Thank you, Barry.
Florence said having her kitchen remodeled was like being raped.
I argued that it was more like repeatedly fucking someone you don’t like, because you want a baby and he has a nice nose and good hair. What I really meant was: Jesus Fucking Christ, lady, have you ever been raped?”
I don’t feel like I get to say that, because I have not actually been raped. I’ve always found just enough fight in me to stop it. I know this makes me lucky.
Maybe there are days when everything feels like a violation, after you’ve been raped.
On YouTube, a girl tells a classmate she’s beautiful. “I’ll cut you in the face,” her classmate replies. “You better watch your ass.” It makes perfect sense to me.
Who decided that a girl’s eyes & nose & mouth & skin are less sacred than her unripe cunt? Or that a tongue or a finger are automatically less offensive than a penis? I’ll cut them in the face.
Maybe you don’t even have to have been raped, for everything to feel like a violation.