It’s that time of the day again where I get the sads and can’t stop kicking and shaking or grabbing the fat on my stomach and thighs and arms and squeezing so tight in desperate hopes it might disappear or reduce in size and that I hope I’ll feel comfortable for once in my body, but first there’s crying with little care about much or how people see me or much for living—not wanting to die but possessing not much emphasis on wanting to live.
Relapses are scary and turn my whole behavior and actions and mentality to shit to the point where I can’t stand the very thought of me.
Wow, thank you! I LOVE receiving messages such as yours because they make me feel accomplished in a way and grateful. I’m so glad that I can keep you motivated and inspire :]
I will take you to
museums, and parks, and monuments,
and kiss you in every beautiful
place, so that you can
never go back to them
without tasting me
like blood in your mouth.
I will destroy you in the most
beautiful way possible.
And when I leave
you will finally understand,
why storms are named after people.