"  

Picture this
it’s winter, midnight
you wake up shivering so much you think your bones
will rattle right out of your skin
nights like these you can’t tell the hunger apart from the cold

2am you lie awake
wrapped in more blankets than you thought you owned
you try covering your face
thinking maybe you can suffocate the monsters swimming in your brain

it’s winter and you are shattered like glass
it’s winter and you’re disgusted by the prominence of your cheekbones
and the pale ash of your skin
still too lose around the edges

Picture this,
it’s spring and you’re tired of shaking
it’s spring and you want to run outside in
one layer too few
as though your bare skin will invite the summer sun
to absorb you faster
it’s spring and you still can’t remember how it feels to be warm
but you’re trying
oh god you’re trying

Picture this
it’s fall and the leaves are almost as bright as your newly dyed hair
the stylist finally agreed that it had grown back strong enough to be
tinted with the reddish brown you love so much

it’s fall and the pumpkin pie your grandmother makes doesn’t leave you
heaving on the bathroom floor
it’s fall and you’re not afraid to taste the air because
it doesn’t feel like it will blow through you any more

Picture this
it’s winter, midnight
you sleep with one foot on top of your blankets
because you finally remember what it’s like to be warm

2am and you’re sound asleep
unafraid of the morning to come, the meals to eat,
the people to speak to

it’s winter and you finally learned how to heal
it’s winter and you realize that there is nothing more beautiful
than the warmth of your soft, rosy cheeks
and your light, porcelain skin

it’s winter and you’re safe
it’s winter and you’re strong
it’s winter and you don’t feel
so broken anymore

  "

"  

Stop for a second

Take a breath.

You are alive
and warm.
Put your hand on your chest.. What’s that? It’s a heartbeat. Your heartbeat. Your eyes are reading this and your brain in processing the words into thoughts. Think about everything..
.. think about nothing for a while. Sit in silence. Laugh a little. Don’t forget to smile at the person who holds open that door or the stranger beside you at the bus stop who let’s you go first. Share your umbrella when it’s raining and bask in the sunlight when it’s not. Let it kiss your cheeks and create tiny freckles to cover your nose. Say hello to the old lady who is sitting alone.. maybe she has been alone for a while and needs to hear a friendly voice. Visit libraries and spend the day falling in love with beautiful stories. Volunteer at an animal shelter because maybe you’re not the only one who needs some love. Stay up late in the summer to watch the sun set only to see it rise a few hours later. Have snowball fights in the dark winter months and return home with red cheeks and cold hands.

Take a breath.

You are alive. So live.

  "

Q: Are you a virgin?

why does it even matter to you?

asked by love-escapade

"  

‘I tried bulimia once.’

There’s nothing quite as lovely as a thoughtful message from someone who understands:

     ’Sorry you’re going through this, I tried bulimia once and it sucked.’

Bulimia does suck.  The sky is also blue, and the world round.

But darling, you did not try bulimia once.

Forgive me if I’m callous, but I can’t dig up much sympathy for someone who believes gagging once and deciding it’s icky is ’bulimia’.  Sure, it’s never a good thing to try to make yourself sick, unless you’ve just been poisoned.  And thinking purging is a viable option isn’t exactly healthy.

But sticking your fingers down your throat and coughing and then going OH MY GOD EW is not bulimia.  Fasting for a day and then ‘fainting’ in the hallway is not anorexia.  And ‘getting so desperate I seriously considered anorexia or bulimia’ isn’t an eating disorder. 

Bulimia is a speeding train with no brakes, bingeing and purging and bingeing and purging no matter how broke you are or how disgusting the food is or what you should be doing.  It’s gorging until you can barely stand, puking until you bleed, and the city could burn to the ground and when it was over you’d still be standing in the ashes, bingeing and purging.

Anorexia is a wall of blue-gray ice, a miswired translation code that turns appetite into disgust, a terror you don’t understand, a fear so real you can see it and hear it and kiss it goodnight, an illogical logic that rewrites everything and you know you need to eat and maybe you even really want to eat but you just can’t because if you did everything would fall apart.

Desperation is digging through the garbage for nothing-something-anything to stuff in your face because you have to binge and purge right now.  Desperation is standing frozen in the aisle of the grocery store for minutes/hours/years, and then buying the same calorie-free crap you always buy because you can’t eat it if it’s not safe.  Desperation is swallowing laxatives like normal people swallow candy, just because you have to be empty.

And you can’t ’consider anorexia and bulimia’, as though they were for sale at the pharmacy between agoraphobia and cyclothymia. 

You didn’t ‘try bulimia once’.

It’s not a diet, and it’s not a choice.

  "

"   Though I am often in the depths of misery, there is still calmness, pure harmony and music inside me. I see paintings or drawings in the poorest cottages, in the dirtiest corners. And my mind is driven towards these things with an irresistible momentum.   "