TW: extremely depressing (though non self hating) thoughts and non physical but emotional descriptions of anorexia
You really don’t know what it’s like unless you’re the type of person that’s experienced the longing for a soft and numbing slow death, caressing you as you’re suffocating.
Depression is kind of like a weighted blanket. Multiply that by the sensation of an ever empty stomach, hugging a pillow with your weakening arms or softly pressing your ribs and hip bones into the mattress as if was a tight hug by another but without the exposure, the feeling like a burden because of your pain. Laying there naked as you feel your cold and vulnerable body be held by the soft and warm bed in a way you’ve never been held before as your mind descends into fantasies of concerned and caring voices as they see you wasting away.
To me real anorexia is not a weight goal, nor a calorie limit, that’s more similar to what I’ve experienced when I went through bulimia. What I call anorexia comes with a wave of need, a need to curl up and hide away from this harsh world, a need to feel like the love you receive is actually real, a need for a kind hand on your bony shoulder or a hug of your small waist to feel validating instead of exposing and shameful.
I didn’t have a peaceful childhood. Nor have most of us. I don’t know what it is about me exactly that I’ve romanticized the idea of starvation ever since I was 8 or even younger. It’s been almost 12 years since then and when life gets hard it still washes over me like a wave, a longing to be numb, so intense it’s almost romantically sexual.
There is such a deep intimacy to isolation. When it hits me I don’t want to talk to anyone. I especially don’t want my mother to see me, her seeing me not doing well feels like a sharp exposure that I’m a failure or a burden.
I don’t think thinness is beautiful. Especially not in women. I think there’s something rather pathetic to it and that’s exactly what I yearn for. To feel sick, to be sick, to feel cold from the inside out so the blankets and big and soft hoodies keep me warm, as if I got some extra time in my mother’s womb before being forced into this cold world. (Fun fact: my birth was a forced C section as well)
To me anorexia always comes hand in hand with depression and isolation. It’s not something I involuntarily suffer but more like a drug I cling onto more than dear life. I use it and create these states because they feel comforting to me but in a way where I also feel what I’m doing is wrong, but there’s something addicting to thinking “oh god what am I doing to myself” as if I was the victim.
I guess there is no end to this story I’m still figuring out how to navigate this life as a sensitive archetype prone to yearning for a soft self destruction as a form of comfort.
That one shirt with those one pair of baggy jeans, Breaking Bad and The Witcher, Poshlaya Molly’s entire discography and anything cacao and dark chocolate flavored + greek yogurt and tahini
I hate my job so fucking bad it makes me wanna give up on everything besides like idk shit that’s actually fun and smoke cigarettes and drink coffee all day and have my whole diet be cocoa and very dark chocolate
ellievsbear
origamiaround
titsay
discoholicmusic
snowghoul
