Sometimes I Twist Myself Into A Little Ball Of Broken Bones And Tattered Hearts And Just Try To Imagine

Me without You

I cannot tell if the reason I now want to be skin and bones is because you left me. I cannot tell if that was the match hitting the strike or just some kindle to a roaring flame. Did I always feel this way? There are no words left, because you stole them all. You could have saved me an explanation, but I guess my tears were answer enough. I thought I would become a person, but I’m less now than I ever was. Just a pebble in an ocean, instead of a boulder in a pond. When you feel deep in your heart and soul that you do not matter, things start to not matter. Life does not matter. Your health does not matter. So while I try to see the inside of my skeleton, I hope she was worth it, while I sit here and die.

I binged today and now I feel so gross. I'm so full that I feel sick. 🤢

I just found my favourite part of the not today choreo

It's a systematic shutdown. You will fail that test. You have no memory. You will forget that speech. Forget how to get to work. And when finally there, you will break down harder than you have ever imagined. Why are my hands shaking when my mind is so still? How can I peel back each layer of skin on my fingertips and still see God? My ghost is very gifted. However, I am not. Let me sink into this chair, the floor, the bed. Whatever holds me still and forget I ever had a name, even something as trivial as a life. When moss grows on trees people do not remark on its tentativeness, it's parasitic nature. It's ugly color. They say 'this shows me the way and covers the dead trees in life'. So when I'm screaming louder than my lungs have ever screamed and my fists make contact with my head, there is no loudness in my heart. My heart wants to die like the rest of me. But my mind hovers over my body like Brutus over Caesar and triumphs in its take over. The lion once waiting with bated breath, now cowers in hopes that maybe death will be kind and sweet. But I am now being lowered into the ground. Finding that glorious cage of health and happiness. It slips away from me every once and awhile. It hides itself, in hopes of teaching me a lesson. But this time, I'm not sure if we'll ever see each other again.

Melissa Rose

just in case you need to be reminded

dont check up on your ex partner

dont check up on your ex friend

dont do it

it is not productive

you are better than that

I swear it’s following me around. I’ve told people about it, but they don’t believe me. In the shower, I’m terrified to close my eyes. What if it sneaks in from the drain and puts its skeleton hands around my waist and won’t let go until I’m drowning under the spray of water and can no longer scream for help? I lay in bed at night as it knocks at my window. “Let me in”. No. “Let me in”. I close my eyes but then the feeling comes back again and I realize now that I’ve opened the window. Now it’s staring at me. It grins. It tells me it’s sweet stories, tongue licking at my ear as it lulls me to sleep. But in the morning, when I wake, I can barely move. I’m sluggish, disoriented, confused. Each step is like standing on hot coals, but I cannot get my body to move further than the end of my bedroom. And I hear it again, “Don’t go out there. Stay in here. It’s so much better in here. Isn’t it?” I stand as still as a painting as the voice repeats itself over and over. I know it won’t stop until I’m under the covers, until I’m in bed and don’t leave until I’m nothing but a skeleton and some tears. But I slam my first against the door. I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this. I mumble under my breath, but she cannot hear me. “What did you say darling? I know you’ll feel better once you get back to bed…” I slump against the door, wondering if maybe the bed is the safe haven I’ve always been searching for. But then that feeling comes back. “Im hungry.” I say defiantly, as I rip the door open. There is no one there. Just wisps of black flying out the window. But I know she’ll be back. But as I slip into the bathroom, I tremble as I stand on the scale. I hope for above 100. That’s all I need. Something to cling on to. I hear her claws against the window but I stare at the numbers until my eyes lose focus. 99. I can deal with that. I lift my shirt, my ribs are showing, but when I run my fingers along the expanse of my body, I do not feel all bones and misery. She claws again. “You’ll feel better when you don’t eat.” She whispers from outside. But how can I feel better when I can barely stand? How can I feel better when my body starts to collapse inside itself imploding like a broken star? I stumble out of the bathroom and into the kitchen. “There’s nothing here you want.” She says. But my stomach is growling and I don’t care what I eat anymore as long as it’s food. No more crackers. No more skipped meals. No more fainting. I read a book about a girl with an eating disorder. Bulimia. She died alone in a seedy hotel room when she threw up one too many times and ripped her esophagus clean open. Choking to death, in order to be perfect. I may be skin and bones and I may think about dying. But I will not let this monster take me. She speaks kind words into my ears and part of me wishes for the warmth of my bed, the calm of my room. Maybe she is right. Maybe everything will be better when just the skeleton of me exists. And I turn around and take a step towards my room, and she smiles. “Good girl,” She coos, like I’m a little baby, learning how to walk. But I’m learning much more than how to walk, im learning how to survive, how to be perfect. But someone once told me that there was no such thing as perfect, and that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. And the last time he told me I was beautiful, my heart sank into the depth of the earth, growing like a tree ready to reach the sunlight above. So I reach for that candy bar, and she screams, “Stop stop stop stop. What do you think you’re doing??” And I remember what it feels like to eat cotton balls, the cloth sticking to my mouth like peanut butter, but it was not peanut butter. I remember checking boxes for calories, when I should have been checking for prices. I remember crying alone in my room, wondering who’s going to save me, or maybe I’ll die alone in a hotel room, like that girl in that book. But when I bite into that candy bar, the monster dissipates. I no longer have to hear her cries, her soft words, her screams. And suddenly I remember how good chocolate tastes, how real food feels in my mouth. And when my friend calls me to go to dinner, I reply “yes”. This will be my first full meal in two months. I think I’m going to cherish it.

Melissa Rose

So I've been super super anxious lately. Started a new job, went back to school after summer break. And now I'm not eating. Less in a purposeful way, but more in a im not hungry and I don't know what to do about it way. I need help. But I have no idea what to do. I can't go to inpatient hospitalization because I'll probably lose my job. And I can't miss school. But everything is getting so difficult. And I'm so lost and so confused. If you have any advice, please share. I could really use it.

KyuVoice in ‘Mozart’ Part 1

I can contort my body into a thousand positions. But none of them feel the same way I felt when you held me in your arms at night.

Melissa Rose

Please please please don't scroll past this.

All of you!

My friend is planning to kill himself, and we came to an agreement:

For every note this post gets, he’ll hold off his suicide for another day.

Please help me out here, and I’ll send you all a shitton of blessings too-

So, please reblog this and like this post whenever you see it!

I need him around, he’s my closest friend and the only person I’ve ever truly trusted, so please help him…