when i read my journal entries from when i had an eating disorder it breaks my heart because i was just a kid on the verge of absolute psychoses and all i wanted was for someone to care and no one did
i never want anyone to feel like that ever again
I am not a graceful person. I am not a Sunday morning or a Friday sunset. I am a Tuesday 2am, I am gunshots muffled by a few city blocks, I am a broken window during February. My bones crack on a nightly basis. I fall from elegance with a dull thud, and I apologize for my awkward sadness. I sometimes believe that I don’t belong around people, that I belong to all the leap days that didn’t happen. The way light and darkness mix under my skin has become a storm. You don’t see the lightning, but you hear the echoes.
- Anna Peters (via larmoyante
writing is basically the only thing i don’t suck at so i guess i’ll stick with it
im bummed because the jack white show i would give my left femur to see is sold out and i was too faded to enjoy his set at bonnaroo
never trust a boy who’s prettier than you