"daddy, i'm so tired all the time.."
of course you are.. you barely eat...
"don't i?"
no you don't... you only just eat enough to survive
you eat less than your 5 year old sister.

"what?"
Yea...



- I don't know why... and i haven't thought about it.
I like my body trust me
But i don't want food
I am hungry, but i don't eat till the hunger has passed i only eat because i have to... if i didn't have to i wouldn't eat.
Eating bores me
Eating makes me feel nonproductive

I haven't thought about the fact that i eat less than my 5 year old sister... and i can't understand why daddy hasn't said anything before now..
And now i can't wait to get on the weight because  i wanna see if he's actually right, that i'm losing weight..
Trust me i'm not trying to... idk why i'm doing this...

It's amazing watching skin heal and realizing you haven't.

The thing therapists don't tell you after you've "recovered" is that you'll have good day and bad days which will mostly consists of bad days. They fail to mention that because when you're in therapy it's all about progress.
"Don't say this you'll trigger her..."
The truth is, some days will be harder then others. You'll want to relapse and self destruct because all of that is familiar. You'll want the  antidepressant pills again because life is hard again. Life is how you swore it would never be like again yet you're there again. You've spent the majority of you're time feeling this so you crave familiarity.
Some days you will not want to get out of bed because the sick truth is you don't want to get better. You've already made you're life around your illness. Sometimes you'll just want the world to stop for a moment so you can realize that's false. The illness is bittersweet feeling because in the back of your head you want to get better. You want a cure for the illness  but then again you crave something that's familiar and close to home.

i've been joyful for the past 4 months... i haven't even had one sad moment....
but all of a sudden i look back at how my family is torn apart, how i changed so much..
how much weight i gained.. how faded my scars are, and i kinda miss the way i fell....

I would never imagine that i could miss something that bad this much..

I grew up in a blue house.
I never knew it, but I loved it.
When I was younger I had a dog named bob.
I knew I loved him.
I was walking bob when hailie left.
She never knew I loved her.

Little by little the pieces of this puzzle fell apart.
And they wonder why I relapse.
They wonder why I can't "just don't do it."
They wonder why I dream all day.

They wonder why sobriety is the my handicap.

The snow was heavy. It wasn't a storm, it didn't come down hard, but over the week the ground became plasterd in that thick blanket he knew oh so well. He lifted some in his palm and tasted it. It was inviting, sweet, yet punishing. He knew the sickness the world would bring but he couldn't resist himself. A snow man threw him a snow ball, and asked if he wanted to go sledding. He bit the bait then slid the ***** and a snow angel he became.

I want to let my tears
wash me clean or
soak me until my clothes
show the ***** truth;
the insides of a vessel
affected by depression are
not always so pristine.

Do not judge this;
you do not know what it is
to haunt your own body,
to have your mind
wage war on you,
you do not know the sound
of your mind pulling 1000 triggers,
the sound of gunshots ricocheting
in your lungs;
you only know that my
breathing is shallow.

Do not call me weak just because
"I cannot stomach
the same meal twice"
when I have swallowed
the same poison
up until this moment in life
where I am learning to spit it out;
I love you, I love you, I love you
Separation, separation,  separation,
suicidal contemplation...

But of course,
tomorrow I'll be here again,
so there's nothing to worry about,
right?


- Crimsyy♡

sweet children, pay attention closely
I'm the voice out of the pillow
i've brought something for you
i've ripped and teared it out of my brest,
with this heart i've got the power
to extort the eyelids.
i sing till the day wakes up
a bright glimpse by the firmament
my heart is burning.

they come to you by night
demons, ghosts, black fairies
they crawl out of the shaft of the cellar and basement
and will see you under your bedding.


my heart's burning

they come to you by night,
and steal your small hot tears,
they wait until the moon wakes up
and press them in my cold veins.

death welcomed me,
But didn't let me die yet.

Sometimes victory is the first step. The turn of a doorknob. The cry for help. Victory is finally getting up to eat dinner after crying silently on your bedroom floor when the weight of the world collects like dictionaries upon your shoulders. It is eating that bowl of ice cream anyway, even when the same voices that have haunted you for years keep attempting to shrink you into a skeleton shadow. It is dressing up in the morning when all you want to do is let scorching hot water carve paths down your spine, forgetting the sound of all the voices you have ever heard because it causes you to wonder just when yours disappeared. It is reading a poem in front of your class, hands and voice shaking like palm trees in hurricane wind. It is realizing that some people will pretend to understand the fire of your soul yet cower in your presence due to the terror of getting burned. It is realizing that you are not immune to this, susceptible to creating madness in the nights you keep searching for, but cannot find, any air left to breathe.
It is admitting you are weak. It is choosing to believe the I-love-yous even when they hang above your head like chandelier glass. It is falling asleep shattered yet committed to wake up anyway. Victory is hidden in the idea that tomorrow, as lonely as today has painted it,


exists.

and it is the worst,
y'know,
that descent into silence,
slow and all at once, they say,
that sudden shaking sadness.

it springs outta nowhere,
see, that pounce, that shadow consuming,
and see,
suddenly you’re hollow.
suddenly you’re gone,
or you wanna be gone—
like my heart’s tryin’ to pound
only my chest’s on lockdown
and no words’ll come out my mouth;
see now,
it just seems
there ain’t nothing i can do.

nah, see, i’m sorry, just—
some days,
i am consumed.