So fuck it…that’s all I got.
I wonder if anybody’s actually had feelings for me, like actually got upset or mad over little things I did and got jealous and confused over me and thought about me on a regular basis. I feel like I’m the only person that ever really cares about anyone and that nobody’s ever felt that way for me.
I write for the same reason I breathe … because if I didn’t, I would die.
— Isaac Asimov (via quotesandnonsense)
One day I will wake up, and my heart won’t hurt so much. One day I will wake up, and you won’t be on my mind. One day I will wake up, and I will no longer miss, love, or need you; but that day isn’t today.
— "One Day" by (DS)
You may see
of words with
but I have written
into each and every
one of them.
Whenever I get a new follower,
I check out their blog.
I see blogs posting thinspo,
I see black and white pictures
trying to tell them
that they don’t matter,
that no one cares,
that they don’t deserve to be here.
I see pictures asking them what
they want more
a thigh gap
I see them with
alarm reminders on their iPod,
trying to tell themselves
that you don’t need the next meal.
I see images telling them they’re fat
telling them they’re worthless,
telling them that eating will make them fat,
telling them that fat is a bad thing,
telling them that “fat”
is synonymous with the word “ugly”.
Let me tell you that “fat” and “ugly”
are not synonyms.
If you look up the word “pretty”
in the dictionary,
you will not find the word “thin”
as a definition.
Fasting is not some magical shortcut to beauty.
Eating disorders are not graceful.
Pain is not beautiful.
I never bled so that a boy could kiss my scars.
I never starved myself so that a picture of my bones
could be someone else’s “motivation”.
Nobody is supposed to look at
someone who has been through hell
and say “I want to be like that.”
No, that’s not the way it works.
It is not gracefully puking over a toilet.
It is eroded teeth.
It is a raspy voice.
It is smelling like vomit.
It is attending your friend’s birthday party
which just happens to be at a buffet
and spending half the night in the bathroom.
It is being racked with guilt after you eat.
It is never being able to stop counting calories.
It is having people constantly push food in your face.
It is going to social gatherings and
having everyone ask you why you aren’t eating.
It is crying because your bones hurt so much.
It is randomly passing out and feeling dizzy.
It is being so tired that you can barely leave your bed.
It is feeling fat even though people
come up to you saying “you’ve gotten too skinny”.
It is never being able to believe
someone when they call you pretty.
You do not need to be perfect to love yourself.
If you try so desperately to control your food,
you will lose control of your mind.
I know that when you look in the mirror,
that you don’t see what I see when I look at you.
You don’t see passion.
You don’t see beauty.
You don’t see happiness in yourself.
You don’t see your own potential.
I let my worth be defined in numbers.
I let myself feel like I took up too much space.
I wanted to shrink.
Starving was my way of slowly disappearing.
Let me tell you,
that you are allowed to take up space.
You are allowed to have a voice.
You are allowed to feel like you matter.
The size of your heart is not determined
by the size of your body parts.
How much someone will love you
is not defined
by the measurements
of your waist line.
5:14 p.m. (One person’s hell should never be another person’s dream)
Please get help before it’s too late.(via expresswithsilence)
In a checkout earlier
my total came to
and I handed the lady
Expecting only coins
I was puzzled to see
her extended hand offering
3 $5 bills.
"I only gave you a 5"
"Are you sure? I thought it was $20"
"No, I’m positive"
As she corrected her mistake,
the man behind…
Somehow, I always seem to have room for you in my heart; No matter how many times you’ve closed me out of yours.
— Late Night Confession #3 (via arealmofpossibilities)
I want to ask the sidewalk why it stays,
even though it gets walked on
and never appreciated.
It’s always there for people,
you know what I mean?
Taking them places,
making them realize
that even if they fall down,
they can’t fall any further.
See, I want to ask a dandelion
if it still feels beautiful
even though it still gets called a weed.
Because it can grow flowers.
It looks soft, and it grants people’s wishes.
I want to ask a dandelion if it’s okay
with being ripped out of the ground and dying
because it knows that it’s dying for a good cause.
I want to ask limes how they’re okay
with people only using them for their juice,
but never loving all of them.
I want to ask the sand
what kind of kiss
it gives the ocean
that keeps the ocean
every single time.
I want to ask the shore
how it leaves its lover’s lips
bleeding with desire.
I want to ask the rain
how to touch people
I want to ask each raindrop
how it’s okay
knowing that after
it chooses someone to touch,
it will splatter,
and end its life.
I want to ask your hands
what it’s like to break your fall.
I want to ask your legs
what it’s like to pick you
back up every time.
I want to ask your spine
what it’s like to be the one
to straighten you back up
all the nights you curl up
into a ball and cry.
I want to ask your skin
what it’s like
to be the one who
keeps you from falling apart.
I want to ask your lungs
what it’s like
to be something that you need.
— 3:05 p.m. (I guess there’s a lot of things I’d like to know)
I want to know what it feels like to watch a lot of blood flow from a slash in my arm the problem is I’m not sure if I’d survive the experience.