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i should really stop planning my future around being rich or famous…,,, but i can’t

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I wonder whose arms would I run and fall into if I were drunk in a room with everyone I have ever loved.

this becomes almost deeper when you think of non-romantic loves too  (via bl-ossomed)

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“We turn skeletons into goddesses and look to them as if they might teach us how to not need.”

— Marya Hornbacher, Wasted: A Memoir of Anorexia and Bulimia (via mourningmelody)

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“It’s a trap. The first time you start, it’ll seem like a job, then it’ll seem like a lifestyle, then it’ll seem like a prison. You’ll do it carefully, you’ll brush your teeth afterwards and then drink lots of water. Then you’ll have to do it in a public bathroom, you’ll sit on the toilet until the room is empty and then you will spill out whatever you put into your body. You wont brush your teeth, that might make you look guilty. You don’t drink a lot of water, but it doesn’t matter, it’s only this one time. Eventually you wont put your fingers down your throat anymore, you will excuse yourself to the bathroom and your body will know it’s job. Your mom will smile at you and congratulate you when you lose weight, you will smile and she’ll laugh and tell you that you should start using tooth paste that whitens your teeth. Very soon it will not be enough. your body is scared, it holds on to whatever fat you have and it wont let it go because it doesn’t know when you’ll actually let it keep things. But you can’t stop, you can’t put food into your mouth without gagging. So you stop eating, because that’s easier. Soon you will have mascara running down your face while you’re sitting on the floor of the bathroom but you’re not drunk you’re just sad. You feel empty, and it makes sense if you think about it, so you don’t. You stand up and your body turns into a mountain, you take a makeup wipe and now it’s like nothing ever happened. And one day, maybe, just maybe you’ll get up the courage to tell someone you’ll sit at a youth group where you never really belonged, and you’ll whisper “I’m bulimic” and they’ll look at you weird. they’ll secretly wonder why it isn’t working, they’ll judge your capability of an eating disorder by how hollow your cheeks are. You know you should stop, but you can’t. And that’s why it’s a trap that’s why it’s a prison. It’s not just something you do when you eat a little too much. It’s your life. This is your life.”

— Don’t start. -hg  (via sexuallyhomo)

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I just feel like we don’t talk enough about how it feels to relapse after you’ve been on recovery for a while. I mean, logically I do know that what I’m doing is not healthy, that this voice in my head and all the unrealistic beauty standards are lying and that restricting and starving myself is just an attempt at controlling everything that is so out of order in my life, but practically, I just can’t. I can’t unsee all the fat, I can’t avoid feeling disgusted with myself or anxious about meals. I do see that smaller clothes fit me, and I’m even losing my already small clothes, but I just can’t stop, I still feel fat and have this urge to stop eating and at the same time I’m so sure that if I can control my food intake I’ll be able to focus and be better at things. Most of the time it feels like I’m losing my mind

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and binging. Feeling disgusted

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back at drinking a lot of coffee so I'm not hungry

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“The hardest part about recovery is when you’re not sure you want to recover.”

— lightweight-discrepancy (via lightweight-discrepancy)

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It is a lonely feeling when someone you care about becomes a stranger.

Lemony Snicket, When Did You See Her Last?  (via c-oquetry)

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having anxiety and depression is like being scared and tired at the same time. it’s the fear of failure but no urge to be productive, and it’s wanting friends while hating socializing. it’s like running a marathon with the willpower of a corpse because you want to get to the end but you also want to sleep and evaporate into the soil and become compost for snails and flowers because then at least you’re useful

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I am so sorry to all the people I hurt while I was hurting.

(via never-cut-again)