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Ugh Fml - Blog Posts
It's an open notes test and some dense motherfuckers still can't figure out the answers.
The contents of my stomach are trying to make there way out. Violently. From both ends.
Me after watching the skinny, blonde girl from my class dye her hair black and dress only in athleisure (If I was her I would wear all the cute clothes I want and dye my hair so many cute colours but I'm chubby and have dark brown almost black hair)
do you think if i turn my brain on and off again it’ll be recalibrated and i’ll be fixed
You know what’s hard to swallow?
When you thought you had it all figured out. Not life, per se, but yourself - ever changing or not.
When you thought you had figured out the root of your problems, and praised yourself for being so darn self aware.
And then, something flips, the moment you give in to vice that you thought you had uncovered the secrets of. Why you drink, why you smoke, why you can’t seem to stop.
You thought you’d figured it out - why it pulled you in, and then, nothing makes sense anymore.
The moment of realising that you don’t know your demons, you don’t know why your eyes seem to always gaze back at the glass of wine next to you, and then the bottle. Why it seems to call out to you, louder than anything else in the room - a scream in an endless sea of whispers.
You give in, because the absolute soul crushing feeling of once again being wrong about yourself is worse than faking the reasons, but you know you’ll make up another. And you’ll believe it.
And the cycle will repeat.
You know what I wish?
I wish I could speak to someone who understands what it’s like having an ACTAUL ED. Not just “oh my god I didn’t eat breakfast I’m so anorexic” haha. Fuck you.
I wish I could speak to someone who understands having to be a mother to your own mother.
I wish I could speak to someone who understands what it’s like to not know yourself because you’re always looking out for someone else.
Because you are always having to be the person who is there for everyone; the person that no one is there for.
The therapist.
The one who swallows their pride because how dare they have an opinion.
How dare they have feelings.
How dare they be a person.
How dare they be a person and not a therapist.
