you text me and my heart skips a beat.
the insufferable lightness of my stomach as the soft glow of my phone lights my face reading your words.
seeing you pushes me over the edge.
the thought of you, is like a nutrient.
the sight of you, is like a banana peel, because i’m falling head over heals.
do you not realize how much you hurt me each time you text me?
7pm and your name appears on my phone and i stop my day to make sure you’re okay.
are you so oblivious to the fact that my heart longs for you, who is long gone?
each one of your words stinging like salt in the wounds you left.
i love you.
god, i still love you.
my heart wrecks for not giving you a chance. people screaming, looking at me like they know me and my circumstances. and i’m sorry.
i’m sorry for giving up on you.
and i’m sorry that you weren’t made out of love.
my dear son or daughter,
this is my letter to you;
i watch children play in the school yard and i often wonder what they are doing, what imaginary world they are protecting, what conflicts are going on that seem so significant to them that can easily be fixed with a band-aid and a kiss, and what thoughts are going on in their magnificent little minds.
i wonder what you would be thinking when you got to be that age.
i wonder if i could ever fix those huge problems for you instead of creating a hundred more.
i walk the halls wondering how many experiences, how many feelings would have been the same between the two of us.
my child,
my heart breaks as i put the kids i babysit to sleep. as i go to collect the change from the pizza, i think how i could support you with only this? what would you think of me? a mother who can’t afford gas and lives on pizza change? my child, please forgive me, but you didn’t deserve that. i didn’t deserve that.
i go to say goodnight one more time, but they are sound asleep. i stay.
i watch the youngest one and how her little body rises and lowers with each breath, and how i weep, my child, at the thought i could never give this to you anymore.
there’s an abundance of excuses i can feed to the both of us, but, i’m not going to waste both of our time.
please, just know, i love you.
and think about you daily
hourly,
every minute.
and probably will until my last breath.
please just know that i’m sorry.
truly.
i will never forgive myself,
i just hope you will.
hey, guys, so sorry for not posting much of my writing anymore. lifes been shit. i really really really want to stop existing. but, not forever, just for like a day or an hour. so, dont worry lol. however, my Ed is acting up and i think im just going to let it take over. let my body get cold, thieve it of nutrition, fill it with black coffee until the heart inside me stops beating. once more, im sorry for not posting, i’ll be more active soon.
the thoughts that once entered my mind are back once more.
fogging my sanity,
taking over,
these thoughts…
can i control much longer?
“I fell in love with her courage, her sincerity, and her flaming self respect. And it’s these things I’d believe in, even if the whole world indulged in wild suspicions that she wasn’t all she should be.”
— F. Scott Fitzgerald (via thegreatgatsbydaily)
i apologize for not being active. i just got out of high school and the problems that went along with it. the guy that i was with held me captive. i wasn’t alowed to have social media, talk to my friends, and other bullshit that goes along with a toxic relationship. im glad that im out of it but, he’s dragging my reputation with him and it hurts like hell. so, i spiraled into a depression relapse and all that shit. BUT, to go along with it, my notebook that i kept EVERYTHING in has been stolen… so, fun! but, im doing much better and hope to see my tumblr family grow!
i am so small minded that i can’t dwell upon a thought for too long without being overwhelmed; but intelligent enough to realize this.
If someone with an eating disorder, body image issues, body dysmorphia, etc. tells you that they feel a certain way about their body, do not get mad at them or bring out the whole “if you think you’re fat then what does that make me?” because it’s not about you okay? Our perception of ourselves is distorted; we do not see other people the same way we see ourselves
