KIROKAZE

pixel skylines
Sade Olutola

No title available

shark vs the universe

JVL
occasionally subtle
cherry valley forever

izzy's playlists!

oozey mess
The Bowery Presents
Monterey Bay Aquarium
Sweet Seals For You, Always
$LAYYYTER
trying on a metaphor

No title available
Cosimo Galluzzi

Love Begins
sheepfilms
almost home
seen from Gabon
seen from Russia
seen from Poland

seen from Türkiye

seen from Brazil
seen from Pakistan
seen from Vietnam

seen from United Kingdom
seen from Portugal
seen from Bangladesh

seen from Spain
seen from Germany

seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from Philippines

seen from Mexico
seen from United Kingdom

seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
@weightlesslives
speech
I think i finally have to admit to myself that this is a full.blown relapse. Please make it stop.
Tumblr is actually a nightclub and we all are the drunk girls in the bathroom being besties
i am so very grateful to anyone who follows me and likes/reblogs my posts because i don’t know anyone who has an ed irl and screaming into the void is fun but if the void gives a thumbs up right back at me it sure makes everything feel a lot less lonely
I just want coffee for breakfast
I just want warm cups of tea
I just might love you forever
I hope you warm up to me
“I choose to take care of myself today; Meal by meal; Snack by snack.”
— yours truly
You can’t live with an eating disorder.
You can survive. You can breathe and fake a smile and function, but you can’t live.
You can’t have fun, you can’t relax, you can’t enjoy food, you can’t succeed, you can’t dance, you can’t go to parties, you can’t do the things everyone else is doing, you can’t do the things you love, YOU CAN NOT LIVE.
And lets be honest, you can only survive for so long.
You get better, or you die. It’s that simple. Your body and mind cannot take that kind of trauma. You can not live.
“let me tell you something: no one is going to look at you, broken and shattered and think - damn, you are beautiful. no one is going to come pick up your broken pieces off the floor and assemble them into a beautiful whole. hell, you won’t even look at yourself and think - I made broken look beautiful. you know why? because all those writers lied to you. yes, all those with their poems of scraped knuckles and blood dripping down chins, pomegranate songs and loves that ripped through you like hurricanes. liars. so you and i, we are going to make a plan. you are not going to romanticize days when your brain tells you to smash that mirror, you are not going to romanticize the lover who doesn’t understand you but still writes about you. here is what you are going to romanticize instead: you are going to romanticize the first day of spring, its gentle hands all over your body, lifting you up until you are as light as a feather. you are going to romanticize the tea and honey kind of love, no hurricanes, but sunshine that builds you up from within, that helps you make it through the worst days. you are going to romanticize gentle hands of a friend in yours, telling you that it is going to be okay. because it is. and don’t trust poets, we’re no good, we love pretending that our jagged edges tantamount to a beautiful disaster, but in reality - there ain’t nothing beautiful about shaky hands holding a cigarette and empty eyes staring at the cracks in the walls. you know what is beautiful, instead? the days when you can look at yourself in the mirror and smile, scars and all. music that makes your soul flow like a river, books that offer comfort, families flocking together like overgrown birds to keep you safe and warm, friends that give you strength when you can find none, lovers who make you laugh through tears. baby, from now on you are going to romanticize healing; honey dripping down your fingertips, August nights that stick to your skin, the day you find your purpose, long car rides and singing so loud that no one can shut you up now. bad news: no one is coming to save you. good news: you can save yourself.”
— Lana Rafaela
Everybody knows
It hurts to grow up
And everybody does
It's so weird to be back here
Let me tell you what
The years go on and
We're still fighting it, we're still fighting it
And you're so much like me
I'm sorry
The ED is always lurking in the shadows , ready to pounce when you are too weak to fight.
sometimes self care is saying “this is stupid” and closing the tab
Seriously.
The most feminist thing I ever did was pull my head out of the toilet bowl