i have been doing terribly.
this blog is currently a sideblog, and i’m thinking of deleting it and recreating it as a completely separate blog so i can exclusively follow certain blogs on this blog, and send asks and everything else that comes with a main blog.
i just. the second to last time my sister was over, she was watching as i was scrolling down my dash, and between all the one direction and teen wolf and avengers she asked why there were so many emaciated girls on my dash. i had to make up some bullshit answer that i don’t even know if she believed.
she’s probably forgotten about it, though. she doesn’t know shit about me.
but i don’t want it to happen again.
What is the point of being alive if you don’t at least try to do something remarkable? (Source: kari-shma)
Fat, fat, hideous unending supplies of fat. Mounds of flesh that hang heavily from my body, weighing me down. Globs of soft, dense tissue dragging me to the ground. I’m so disgusted with what I have become. The illusion of “maybe I’m not so bad” has been shattered. My appetite is gone, as it should be. Let me starve. Let me gnaw away at this disgusting chrysalis of tissue I’m encased inside. I’ve seen myself for what I truly am. Grotesque and lumbering, when all I’ve ever wanted is to be lithe and lovely.