It’s difficult for me to verbalize how I feel. It’s especially difficult when I know that the minute I start talking, I’ll also start crying. This is why I write. I write because I’m afraid for my voice to shake as I speak. I write because I’m afraid of the burning sensation I’ll feel when tears start to stream down my cheeks. If I told you my fears, you’d get a glimpse of how I feel. I fear that one day you’ll kill yourself. I fear that someone will find you dead. I fear that I’ll be busy when I get the initial call. I fear that I’ll check my phone and see 53 missed calls and 13 texts from the person who found you dead. I fear that one day I’ll lose someone I love unexpectedly. I fear that I’ll lose myself expectedly. I fear that I won’t be able to function without you in my life. I fear that I’ll have to quit my job because I won’t be able to get through 8 hours without crying. I fear that I’ll never be able to move on. I fear that I’ll break down in front of the guests at your funeral. I fear that I’ll throw myself in the plot once they finish lowering your casket. I fear that I’ll die when you die.

Please don’t die.

Yours truly,

A daughter, a granddaughter, a sister, and a lover


Vulnerability is my enemy.

Yes, vulnerability is my enemy. This blog post is proof of that.

She asks me if I’m mad at her because I’m clearly acting differently towards her and I say no.

She asks me if I’m in a bad mood and I clearly am and it’s because of a very specific reason but I blame it on something else.

I blame it on something else because the words, “You being drunk is why I’m in a bad mood” won’t make it’s way out of my mouth.

I tend to be very insensitive towards the person who caused me to be in a bad mood; this isn’t a good thing.

I know that I shouldn’t be acting this way towards her.

I know that I should offer her support and speak to her as I do every other Tuesday but I can’t.

I can’t speak to her in my sober voice while she speaks to me in her drunken voice.

It hurts too much.

She doesn’t know this though.


Because vulnerability is my enemy.

Yours truly,

The insensitive when hurt lesbian

“I might be a good liar but my pussy isn’t.”


The content in this blog may be shocking, upsetting, or even unbelievable for those who are in complete denial. 🙂

So let’s talk about sex. Many people are under the impression that “lesbians CAN’T have sex.” Many of these same people are also under the impression that lesbian sex equals scissoring. Being the lesbian that I am, though I don’t have experience with multiple partners, I can tell you that lesbian sex does not ALWAYS equal scissoring. However, I am going to say something that may upset many of you: lesbian sex IS better sex. Here’s why:

Women normally and typically have clitoral orgasms. CLITORAL AKA CLIT. The reason why I’m putting so much emphasis on this word is because, well, IT’S THE MOST IMPORTANT WORD IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. No, but seriously, most women will not orgasm when their boyfriend is fucking them in the missionary position which tends to be the most common position between a man and a woman and of course this position causes a male to orgasm. But if you and your boyfriend are constantly fucking in the missionary position, when are YOU experiencing an orgasm? In fact, there is actually an orgasm gap between men and women. Men tend to orgasm more often than women do. Why is this? Because he isn’t stimulating your clit the way that motherfucker should be!

I was speaking to a friend about this earlier and she said two very depressing things: 1. her pleasure did not matter to her for awhile and 2. at one point in her life, she didn’t know that women experience orgasms. Heartbreaking, isn’t it? In many heterosexual relationships, the man’s pleasure is put before the woman’s pleasure. In fact, our society as a whole tends to place more importance on a man’s pleasure as opposed to a woman’s pleasure. Men ALWAYS get off, women normally don’t. Sorry to break it to you fellas, but she’s probably been faking it. Don’t believe me? Watch this YouTube video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L3Q2L7YQ2Hk

So, do you guys get it yet? Women aren’t experiencing orgasms nearly as much as men are AND if you ever think she did, she was probably faking it. And they’re doing this all to protect your poor little ego so maybe you should try and find her clit. Once you do, lick it, rub it, do whatever you have to do until she ACTUALLY orgasms.

And no, I am not a man hater. But if all of these beautiful girls are going to be straight, I want to make sure that they’re cummin’ every single time! Yes ladies, this is possible. Show that man or even woman (for the less skilled lesbians or bisexuals) where that clit is!

It’s about damn time we start to focus on women’s sexual pleasure!

Yours truly,

The Clit-Loving Lesbian 😉

Questions Pt. 2

It’s only right to start this blog with this question: who knows you the best? Is it your mom? Your dad? Your best friend? Your lover? Your coworker? Do they know your deepest darkest secrets? What about these secrets are deep and dark? What would happen if one day everyone found out what your deepest darkest secret is? How would this change your life? When’s the last time something life-changing happened to you? When’s the last time you did something for the first time? Are first-time experiences always better than the experiences that follow? What have some of your favorite experiences been? What are your fondest memories, good and bad? Do you think we remember more good than bad or do we remember more bad than good? What is your most painful memory? Why is this your most painful memory? Do you think you’ll ever be able to let go of your most painful memory? How much do we actually remember? Do you think we forget more than we remember? Or do we remember more than we forget? What if you found out that your parents weren’t your parents? Would you want to know who your real parents are? What makes a “good” parent good? What makes a “bad” parent bad? If there were no restrictions, how many children would you like to have? How many boys? How many girls? What would you do as a parent that your parent(s) did with you? What would you do differently? Would you change anything about your life thus far? Are you generally happy with the way your life has gone and is currently going? What makes you happy? Is happiness different for everyone? Would you be happier if you had more money? What about more clothes? What about a newer car? How important are material things to you? How would you feel if you came home to no clothes and no shoes? What if a family/friend gave your clothes to a homeless person? Would this change how you feel? Would you switch lives with a homeless person for a week in order to provide them with shelter and food? Would you do this for free or would money need to be involved? If you could have any amount of money in the world, how much would you want? What is the first thing you would do with this money? Would you quit your job? What if your boss begged you to stay? Would you stop going to school? What if you were a year away from finishing? What’s your favorite quote? What gets you out of bed in the morning?

Curiosity gets me out of bed in the morning.

There is so much left to do, so much left to learn.

There are so many more people left to love, so many more memories to be made.

Think about this the next time you have trouble waking up in the morning.

Yours truly,

The lesbian who will never stop asking questions

The blog post you’ve been asking for..

You’ve been struggling for quite some time now and I know that it’s frustrating. It’s frustrating for those who love and care for you, but I know that it’s most frustrating for you. I know that those who love and care for you want to see you get better. But I also know that you want to get better just as much as we want you to get better. I understand that it’s confusing for you. I understand that it’s tiring. I understand that you want to give up at times. But I also know that you don’t think that I understand. I know that you think mommy doesn’t understand. That your friends and family don’t understand. And you’re right, we don’t fully understand. Only you fully understand. You’re the author of this book. But let me tell you a few things that you don’t understand:

You don’t understand how much potential you have. You’re intelligent, you’re mature, you’re inquisitive. These three traits alone can lead to great success.

You don’t understand how beautiful you are, on the outside and the inside. And yes, I said the outside. So what if you’re short? So what if you’re not a size 0? So what if your skin isn’t flawless? Why should you follow any beauty standards but your own? Understand that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. What’s beautiful to me may not be beautiful to you and that’s ok. Likes on Instagram doesn’t define beauty. Runway shows don’t define beauty. Hell, beauty pageants don’t even define beauty. Why? Because there is no definition of beauty. Beauty is completely fluid. Please remember that.

Another thing to remember? Change is constant. Today is not tomorrow and tomorrow is not today. Don’t wake up in the morning and think to yourself, “Today is going to be another shitty day.” Don’t compare tomorrow from today because tomorrow can be completely different from today. My point? Just because you’re struggling now doesn’t mean you’re always going to struggle.

I know that I can be insensitive and I know that I’m not good at talking about my feelings, but your mental health concerns me just as much as mommy’s cookies concern her. I may not always show my concern, but trust me, it’s there.

I guess what I’m trying to say is: I want you to be happy just as much as I want to breathe.

Love always,

Your big sister

12, 13, 14.

I had a dream about this girl.

It was a dream so great that I didn’t want to wake up from it.

The girl in my dream was full of life.

I looked at her and I seen an elementary school playground.

I seen kids who are abused, bullied, and mistreated smiling and laughing.

I seen kids of all races, of all ages, of all classes get along as though they were transparent.

As though their race didn’t determine their behavior.

As though their age didn’t determine their maturity.

As though their class didn’t determine their success.

Their eyes sparkled the same way in which her eyes sparkle.

Their smiles were so bright, they may as well have been best friends with the sun.

Their laughs were so loud, the children in Africa forgot that they were hungry.

I looked at these kids and bad luck suddenly ceased to exist.

The number 13 became excluded from the chalkboards in the classrooms.

The bell rang.

The kids disappeared and all I could see was her.

She walked towards me and whispered in my ear,

“I am the number 13. I do exist. And I’m not bad luck.”

Just because..

Some of us wear pink just because.

Some of us wear makeup just because.

Some of us wear high heels just because.

Some of us wear clothing tight to the skin just because.

Some of us brush our hair in the morning just because.

Some of us get manicures every two weeks just because.

Some of us strive to be skinny just because.

Some of us cross our legs just because.

Some of us don’t use foul language just because.

Some of us don’t burp in public just because.

Some of us don’t fart in public just because.

Some of us hate ourselves after a one-night stand just because.

Some of us keep a little black book just because.

Some of us fuck him just because.

Some of us cook just because.

Some of us bake just because.

Some of us clean the house just because.

Some of us get married just because.

Some of us have kids just because.

Some of us stay home with the kids just because.

Some of us make excuses just because.

Some of us are ashamed just because.

Some of us smile just because.

Some of us are silent just because.

Some of us have given up just because.

Some of us have lost hope just because.

WOMEN do things just because.

Just because our parents tell us too.

Just because our teachers tell us too.

Just because our friends tell us too.

Just because the media tells us too.

Just because society tells us too.

Yours truly,

The lesbian who REFUSES to do things just because

quote hey you