chapel ghost

not an eating disorder or self-harm blog. i’m serious.

this blog used to be an eating disorder blog. it is no longer so, but many posts remain up. i no longer post about active eating disorders, and i never will again. i no longer have an active eating disorder and there is no need to. even with its past, this blog never contained and never will contain graphic images depicting sick bodies. the past is the past, and i can promise not to let it repeat. nonetheless, please proceed with caution.

if your blog actively posts graphic descriptions or depictions of eating disorders or self-harm, please keep your distance. i never want to be on the same road as you ever again.

that being said, i do want to clarify: i do not contribute to the growth of disordered eating and deliberate self injury as expressions of distress. do not harm yourself. do not fucking harm yourself. it is not fun. it is not pretty. it is addictive and deadly.

this is not a cry for help.

this blog is an intentionally ominous piece of media full of vague-vents and strange, over-complicated language. this is all done intentionally to paint the best picture i can of what a lifetime of sickness leaves behind in the mind of an unwell child who became an unwell adult.

i rely on these people to make me feel less empty.

i didn't plan on hanging out with her today. but i had to pick her up.

it's what a good friend would do.

i felt better, though. we went to a rich town,

walked through expensive stores.

we laughed, we had fun, we had serious conversations

i spent too much money. as i do.

i'll make up for it. i will.

my father showed me love today. for the first time, he said he was sorry.

not for anything important. but it mattered, nonetheless.

my grandmother came home from the hospital. i hear she's well, at least for her condition.

there was an earthquake this morning, it woke me from a nap.

funny how it barely ever happens.

the deacon plays the electric organ just right.

little boys and girls shuffle their feet in the room behind the altar. white robes hang over their bodies.

i listen to the water run as they wash their hands.

hosanna in the highest.

i want to stand with them, but i cannot leave.

i am in the chapel, with my ear against the door.

surrounded by children's books, Jesus watches over me.

His knees are scraped to the bone. blood and sweat drip from His forehead. thorns still drag into His scalp.

votives flicker at His feet, the smell of candle smoke enchants the carpet below.

i wish He would let me go, but i know i have to be here.

i can't let go when something's broken.

it's all i know,

she's doing okay.

made $50 tonight, but i don't even want to spend it on the fair anymore.

i'm uncomfortable with the shape of my body these days.

i talked to lily.

we haven't seen each other since eighth grade.

i spoke to someone i met online, someone i briefly knew, about religion.