“Spikes Down My Throat”

 

To cut a long story short, my drink was spiked in a club a few nights ago. I think it’s one of those things that you constantly hear about happening, but yet the full effect of it never really hits until it happens to you.

 

Now, I’m not going to use this platform to complain about all the reasons it shouldn’t have happened to me, and I’m also not going to use this as a way to preach feminism because the truth is that the world isn’t perfect and things like this happen every day. Although it sucks that it happened to me, there’s not much I can do about it now.

Something I do want to touch on, however, is how I have been feeling since it happened. Not so much physically, but emotionally.

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The thought of blacking out and not remembering what happened in the span of half a night utterly frightens me. I’ve had friends tease me about the things I said and did while under the influence of this surprise substance and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since. Not having control and memory of my mind and body is quite possibly one of the scariest things to ever happen to me… and no one deserves to feel so helpless.

I was found in quite an alarming state with my skirt inside out. Whilst I am almost certain that I wasn’t sexually abused or taken advantage of in any way, my mind has been full of what if’s and how about’s ever since.

The idea of someone wanting to prey on/take advantage of another person (regardless of their gender) seems so deranged to me. It boggles my mind as to how someone could feel so entitled to need someone’s attention so desperately that drugging them is the only way to get it. No means no in every way, shape and form, and no matter how high and mighty you may think you are, no one is so authorized to overstep that right.

How is something so absolutely messed up so normal these days!?

Why must we teach young males and females to look out for drugs in their drinks when we should be teaching the minority not to do it in the first place?

I have never felt so violated and out of touch with myself in my entire life. In that moment, I felt so unworthy of my own body, as if someone else required it more than me. It was then that the host of my existence didn’t feel to be in my own control, and only then where I felt the most at fear.

I would like to ask the minority to learn to love, respect and treat others the way you would like to be treated; because frankly, there is no reason not to.

An Open Letter to the Class of 2017

It won’t be all rainbows and butterflies, but it’ll be one of the best years of your life.

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So, I’ve always been meaning to write a little post about what my senior year was really like… but the urge only just hit me when I noticed a large influx of new Year 12’s posting photos of their “Last First Day’s” of High School (and felt a hell of a lot of nostalgia).

Being someone who only JUST graduated from high school made me feel (somewhat) equipped to write a little letter to those who are about to go through the heaven and hell that is your Senior Year. I hope this letter provides a little insight to your year and lets you in on a few life hacks that I wish I had been warned of before starting.

So without further ado, here is my open letter to the class of 2017…

Continue reading An Open Letter to the Class of 2017