i know what i’m doing is unhealthy and considered dangerous but i can’t explain how fucking pretty i feel when my stomach growls and my heads a bit woozy. when i stand i can see the stars and i smile after i skip a meal and i cry tears of happiness when the number on the scale drops. i’m happy when i’ve only had tea for two days straight and i’m happy when my bones start to show a little more. i can’t wait until i’m skinny and i have people telling me how great i look. i want the boy i’ve crushed on for so long, to be able to look at me and not be disgusted, instead i want him to say i’m pretty. i want my jeans to fall off because they’ve gotten so big on me they couldn’t dare to fit around my teeny waist. i want my collarbones to pop out so dangerously and i want my jawline to be so sharp people cut themselves by just standing too close. i feel so high and pretty when i drown my organs with endless amounts of water, the bottles have littered my room but at least i’m no longer hungry. my body is a starved one but at least it’ll be a pretty one.
It’s okay if you thought you were over it but it hits you all over again.
It’s okay to fall apart even after you thought you had it under control.
You are not weak. Healing is messy. And there is no timeline for healing.
Whenever I come back on my tumblr I get this urge to pop pills and not eat. Lmao what the fuck
