To all of you who did find this blog in such a manner? Shame. Shame on you. Go eat a bag of dicks and die, you vile, disgusting meatsack.
(To the two or three of my readers who didn’t come here looking for aunty rape porn: Not you. I’m sorry you had to hear that.)
Now, you ask, what the fuck were you doing, Aunty? Ah, good question. I have signed myself up to be a volunteer advocate for the D.A.’s office. Whenever a person is raped, and goes to the hospital, and has made the very tough decision to press charges against his or her attacker, a volunteer—maybe me—is called to meet that person at the hospital, provide information about what’s going to happen, and so forth.
Anyway, I wish I could write something about the experience that wouldn’t be depressing as hell, but I can’t. And I wish I could write something about the experience that would help me process it, but I can’t. At least not here—for reasons of confidentiality. And, realistically, probably not at all. It’s just not possible. How does one process something like that? Something that shows people to be subhuman—forcefully taking from those who have the very least (the homeless, the mentally disabled, the poor, the very old, the very young), or shrugging their shoulders and refusing to offer help where they might. I feel like both these inclinations suggest very scary things about humanity, and yet they’re hardly new.
But mostly I just wanted to get that off my chest. The thing about eating that bag of dicks. Please do it, rape googlers. I mean it.
I hope you feel bad now about being a disgusting rape googler. You've made me, and this puppy, very sad.