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Forse, semplicemente, non sono fatta per questo mondo.
Ho sempre il terrore che chi amo mi abbandoni, ma alla fine sono sempre io che me ne vado.
Il problema sono io. Sono io e nessun altro.
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“Mi trascino fuori dai miei incubi ogni mattina e scopro che non c’è alcun sollievo nello svegliarsi.”
— Finnick, Hunger Games Ilragazzodellultimobanco
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“Amami il triplo che è un momento critico.”
— ilragazzodellultimobanco
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“Che stai bene lo dici sempre. Che sei felice non lo dici mai.”
— ilragazzodellultimobanco
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Anorexia
Is NOT being skinny.
It is NOT being dainty.
It is NOT being fragile.
Small, with bones sticking out, enjoying the feeling of emptiness and control.
This is NOT anorexia.
What is it then?
It is a losing game.
You lose your hair.
You lose your warmth.
You lose control over food.
Yes, you will binge. Believe me, everyone who starts thinks it will not apply to them. It always does, sooner or later.
You lose sleep.
I have never thought that it is so hard to fall asleep until I tried with an empty stomach but mind full of running thoughts.
You lose concentration.
You can forget about keeping up with school, studies, work, any hobby. Anything.
You lose your teeth.
They will rot faster even if you don't purge.
Oh, and you will purge. Seriously. If you are not good in it, you will try to. Many times.
You lose interest in sports.
As it will reming you of being punished for eating and your stupid chore.
It is lying to everyone. Including yourself.
So you lose people.
You lose yourself.
And, the biggest surprise of all, you gain weight. Yes, you read it correctly.
You.
Gain.
Weight.
With. Anorexia.
As you get into a viscious cycle of hating your body-restricting-binging-overwhelming guilt-overexcercising/purging/starving.
You gain something more.
Depression.
Anxiety.
Loneliness.
Suicidal thoughts.
Self-harming behaviours.
Addictions.
But.. Who cares? I have nothing to lose but weight.. Right?
I will finally be pretty.. Right?
What in this world could be more important than getting skinny..?
Nothing.
...Right?
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me: nicotine for breakfast lunch and dinner bitch
my stomach: i hate you i fucking hate you
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The discomfort of recovery is worth the peace at the end.
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i don’t understand it either, so how could you?
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