http://grasse-carcasse.tumblr.com/
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@vivre-somnambule
http://grasse-carcasse.tumblr.com/
I would never have thought people would still be rebogging this after all this time.
But it reminds me of that time - and i see that picture much clearer now. I see that, in the end, I was quite thin. At least far thinner than I am now. I see that I was freaking sick. I see anger, sadness, cries for help. I see that morbid fascination for my scars.
And even though I feel so much better now - there's still that strange feeling in me. I actually miss it - sometimes. Just like food. The illness, the thoughts never fully disappeared ; maybe just because I've been too scared to really start a true recovery.
I would never, EVER get back to that - but I can't deny the monster's still inside me.
I just don't care any more about recovery. At all. Nothing. It annoys me sometimes. But not enough to really be getting better.
I'm just fine with it. Don't throw up any more. Don't take any laxatives or anything. Got a motherfucking good metabolism so I don't really put on weight.
Therefore, I guess there are no much risk right now. But not caring at all about an eating disorder seems weird actually. I guess I just got used to it - after, like, more than four fucking years.
untitled by mary_robinson on Flickr.
…where I am, I don’t know, I’ll never know, in the silence you don’t know, you must go on, I can’t go on, I’ll go on.
Samuel Beckett, The Unnamable (via frenchtwist)
World War I Figure by Robert Heinecken, 1964 Also
Op. 017 by Tsuji Setsuko, c. 1970
Goce Trajkovski
Eruption
pencil on paper
Freja Beha Erichsen
(by TORI STEFFEN)