always-peachie-blog

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FASTING BUDDY🌩

nothing is gonna stop me. buddy or not, im gonna do this, but it would sure feel nice not to be alone.

willing to fast sunday, wednesday, friday (or any other combination of 3 days)

will help me stay strong and will let me help them stay strong

someone who stays focused on their goals

someone dedicated

if youre this person, like/reblog. i’m determined to get to my goal weight before 2019, so i HAVE to work hard.

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looking for an ana buddy!

reblog if you are….

☀️over 16

☀️over 120lbs

☀️suffering from mental illnesses other than ednos

☀️are in/planning to go to uni in the next year or two!!

i will follow y’all and pick some ana buddies !!! 💛 pro recovery

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via weheartit

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what ur fave painter says about you:

Van Gogh: art hoe, unappreciated, depressed and lonely

Picasso: mhmm. you’re pretty weird and inventive 

Leanardo Da Vinci: gay genius, ultimate prankster

Matisse: you love anything cultural and appreciate the value and beauty of almost everything

Edvard Munch: you are depressed, nihilistic and very lonely 

Salvador Dali: what is wrong with you? seriously what are you ever talking about

Monet: you have an eye for beauty and wish you could live in a field of flowers

Renoir: you love the women, the children, the bread

Andy Warhol: hello you are pretentious and gay

Rembrant: you are serious, detailed, and classical. 

Keith Haring: you’ve got a hard on for the 80s and you are into activism 

Bouguereau: dude we get it you love the female body and you love mythology

Edward Hopper: america? america. also you are realistic, serious, observant and hard working

Klimt: you are goddamn beautiful and you love goddamn beautiful things

Egon Schiele: you are obsessed with the human body and need to get laid

Magritte: you are an existentialist and want to have tea in the clouds 

Frida Kahlo: fuck imperialism and fuck america and fuck white people. also you’re the coolest motherfucker around

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reblog if u are currently A Mess

I’ve seen this on my dash 10x today and it breaks my heart to know we’re all falling apart

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“…and then, I have nature and art and poetry, and if that is not enough, what is enough?”

- Vincent van Gogh

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Van Gogh museum in Amsterdam, surrounded by 125k sunflowers. You’re allowed to take home as many as you want.

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Van Gogh museum in Amsterdam, surrounded by 125k sunflowers. You’re allowed to take home as many as you want.

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I spent midnight hours with girls who carried stars in their pockets and could shake the night sky from their hair. Girls with small framed glasses and ponytails slicked back who would read your inner workings like a paperback. Girls who wore blood on their arms and bandanas across their forehead spitting on injustice scribbling a book of names. Beautiful girls. The ones who managed to hold the sun inside their chest. Who would light your life from the inside out. The ones with soft voices who could sing you back to the ocean and show you what it meant to hear moonlight. The pottery girls who treated you like clay, hoping you take shape. Girls better left untouched. Quinoa girls who held their hands outstretched with avocados and shea butter, there to see if you had smiled that day. Island girls with doe eyes who danced for palm trees. The art gallery girls in ripped overalls hanging picture frames inside your chest. Girls who burned their fathers, who spoke loudly but kissed soft. The autumn girls who were crisp apples and fallen leaves. Who listened to the weight of your steps and changed the wind with their fingertips. Broken glass girls who thrived on sharp edges and combat boots who warned of the harvest moon. Lighthouse girls who wouldn’t rest until you were safe in harbor, who tasted of salt and too much time in the sun. Girls who were the sound of chimes on a Midwest porch. Girls who were sunflowers, who were earthquakes, who were highways, who were honeybells, who were cigarettes

-Until Finally There Was You // a.k.g. // 8.13.18

Heavily inspired by @inkskinned’s wonderful work. Wanted to go from where they left off and play with imagery. Thank you for being such a beautiful light. Original:

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Frida Kahlo

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For the artists who went unnoticed, who filled margins and sketchbooks but never let the pictures see the light of day. For the writers who never could get the people they loved to read their work; who spent hours a day pouring effort into pages only to never have readers, never have positive feedback. For the dancers with the “wrong” body type. For the actors who only ever got small roles. For the musicians who had choir voices or ninth chair skills or nobody in the audience.

For hearing “what’s the point of taking a class that easy,” for not being allowed to take the class at all. For hearing “I can do better,” or worse, that noncommittal “oh”. For hours working not even given a second of someone’s time. For parents that occasionally glanced it over but mostly waved it off and said “it’s fine do your homework.” For knowing you’re not good enough to make a profit from it, for being told a lack of commission quality was the same thing as being worthless, for believing it. For not being considered “talented” but somehow remaining passionate. For the not-good-enoughs, who never got famous, never got seen, never got anything.

For the creators. Even when you were unnoticed and unloved and embarrassed of your passions. Even when it hurt and got annoying and felt foolish to be doing. Even when nobody was looking: you made things. You saw empty space and pulled from the ether. You put your heart and soul into things other people never bothered knowing. You were told you were wasted on what you loved; you loved what other people considered a waste.

No more making in the dark. I want to see what you do even if “it’s bad”, even if nobody else ever asks you to. Come into the light. Make to spite them. Make for a younger you that didn’t have the energy, make because they couldn’t kill what burned in you even after years of suffocating, make because the idea of not-making is scary. Make for the sheer sake of making, because all art is an act against entropy. Make and be happy. It doesn’t need to be amazing. Do you know what you’re doing every time you’re creating.

The word “abracadabra” means “I create as I speak.” Tell me you aren’t magic. You force something from nothing. You made. And you make. How much more powerful can one person be?

And you deserved better than what you received.

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suzanne //  creeper

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At The Bottom // Brand New

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i hate it but i want to be back where it was easy. i just mean i used to eat things without worrying. dessert coming first didn’t make me feel guilty, i didn’t have to say “we’re being bad tonight” and mean more than being unhealthy. when someone hurt you by accident they’d just say sorry instead of defending themselves why you deserved to get hit. stuff was easier. if you didn’t like her you just weren’t her friend. if you loved her you got married on the playground and nobody made fun of it. when you said “i’m tired” the teacher suggested naptime, not “get over it”. 

i know i’m an adult. i know it’s silly. i know i have plenty of things like mac and cheese and dino socks and a credit card i can use to buy pizza. but i also just want to sleep and wake up and start over. go back to where it went wrong and tell myself. it’s okay about the dessert and when they call you fat cover your ears. when he hits you, hit back, and get out of there. when she hurts you, stop talking to her, even if you’re worried you won’t have friends after. yeah, you like her, and people will hate you for it. kiss her anyway. be tired. but get out of bed, my love. take advantage of all of it. can i be my own guardian angel? go back in time and untangle all of it?

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if only

God please make it. Let’s pray everyone.

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Stop chasing people. If they block you, cut off contact, ignore you… Let them go. Let those who naturally gravitate to you enjoy your energy. We spend so much time begging for those who wouldn’t blink twice at the thought of you. Cherish those who are there by choice, and not there because you chased them every time they decided to escape.