Bulimia is not a long haired girl with sad face that is leaning in front of the toilet. It’s a swollen face with vomit that is draining down the chin. It’s a fucking bleeding from the nose.
Anorexia is not a skinny girl who shyly refuses eating a muffin. It’s hair on your cold and emaciated body.
Depression is not a model with flowed mascara who is looking on the sunrise. It means staring at the ceiling with red and tired eyes ‘cause you lost the last motivation to close them.
Self-harm does not mean handsome guys kissing your arms and saying that you are perfect. It means disgusting scars that will stay with you forever, it means painful shower.
Anxiety attacks don’t mean hugs with the person who loves you and listening to their quiet whisper. It’s a panic ‘cause you can’t breath.
Mental illnesses are not beautiful. They don’t make you special and “right” person. They are the monsters destroying your live.
