something about writing at night is very comforting to me. i finally get some freetime to catch up on notifications and make more fics. you guys are so kind, thank you. i do see the reblogs/comments and it warms my heart♡

I’m not specifically talking about the neglect that comes from others, but the neglect you might have forced upon yourself. Growing up I hated my body, hated it. It was too big, too tough, too ungainly in all the ways that felt specifically designed to make me fell like shit.

So I stopped caring. Stopped caring about taking proper showers, or eating right, or going outside, or even interacting with the hobbies I loved. My primary goal was to survive until I one day collapsed and never woke up again.

For close to a decade and a half, I essentially lived in a neglected, abandoned house. The owner never checked in, never cared, never wanted anything to do with the property.

And one day she showed up again. Tired, exasperated, holding a dry little paint brush. Day in and day out, she started painting, patching up holes, tearing up old upholstery and installing new lights.

She’s tired. God she’s tired, every day is an uphill fight just to pick up the brush again. But she’s trying, because no one else will.