I just wanna be dainty

𝒟𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂 𝒹𝒾𝑒𝓉

Felt this a little too much

Reblog if you support asexuals and aren’t a COWARD

for everybody who’s suffering from an eating disorder:  i love you

I've been running away & hiding from the writer in me for the past month, she scares me sometimes and leaves me shaking and breathe less from the memories she likes to romanticise when they were nothing but knives stabbed soo deep that they still start to bleed if I touch them. The writer in me had been crying inside me soo loud that it echos in my mind as a empty voice, she tries to drag me to my chair & write all the memories I don't want to remember but she has always been clever as she always has had the talent to hide the pain in the poetries soo well that the people reading can't see it, then she gets sad and throws a tantrum as no one sees them as all she ever wanted was to be seen and healed, she is funny ain't she? Ever since the writer in me has been born, I have died. She forgets to live in the moment but then reminisces the memory later in the dark, it's not that I hate her it's that someday I get scared of the light because of her. I guess she's still in her emo phase as all she does is whisper bitter nothings and acts as if she's never seen the light, it makes me want to love her even more and show that love is taught similarly as hate is taught, though love blooms flowers but hate? It leaves scars.

My heart sometimes yearns to be drenched in your love but luckily heart’s don’t have a mouth so it remains like a child crying in an empty mansion,

what ed bitches want