VerbaSuntArma

🍿 (at Lake Wanaka)

🌲 (at Redwoods Treewalk Rotorua)

🕯️always keep fighting🕯️

Good times + best friends ✨

 They whispered to the sky.

My body is a wreck. I have never really liked my body and the thoughts I tell myself don't help in the slightest. My feet are twisted and toes are cracked because of how hard I push myself in training, never thinking what I do is good enough, the extra runs, more weights lifted, all putting pressure on my feet till the crumple and refuse to hold me up anymore. My calfs have lines running along them, maybe tiger stripes, maybe because of how tightly I tense them when I am frightened. They cramp and close until they shake on their own and I can't do anything but wait till they subside their trembling. My knees a purple with scars and the flesh rolls up in a grotesque manner. I hate the lines that tie my body in a bow, holding me hostage in my own body that I have shaped by myself. My hips are bruised and pale circles coat them, my scars something although some days I hate them, I am proud of. They represent my sport and how much I care and what I would do for my team. My shoulders are broad and some days I would sit in front of the mirror and image what it would be like to be the size of my friends. I am big, stocky and strong, and everyone else is bird-like, and I feel separated even though nothing had been said. My elbows are mangled and knobbly, again from the countless times I hit the floor instead of the ball. It hurts more when the ball hits the floor and you don't. My arms are pale and white with lines of blue and purple running through them, with my knuckles going white and yellow when I clench them. I don't mind my arms. I don't completely hate my legs or elbows or hips. In fact, I am mostly proud of them, how they have been there for me and they have shown who I really am. I like my hands, my arms, my shoulders, my hips. I like my body. Except for my stomach. My stomach is where all faith is lost. I hate the way that I have curves where I shouldn't, a perfect image expected although people say ‘everything is beautiful’. Tell that to the magazines. Tell that to my brain, tell that to my society where we have been trained to want to be stick thin to show off our collarbones or cheek bones yet curvy in our ass or boobs. I can not be who you want me to be. So I don't care anymore. If I know that if my friends don't really care what I look like, then I don't really need to either. We are there to tell each other that we love each other and not to tear one another down about not having the biggest butt or smallest stomach. I am proud of my body and I am proud of my friends. I want you to be too. You are worth it and you deserve to be loved no matter what you look like, what you believe in, your age, your race, I don't care. You are all human to me. So we should treat people, human beings as human beings. Not a body that doesn't have feelings, needs to eat, no matter how much or how little. We need to accept others and accept ourselves. We need to respect others and ourselves. Because every single person in this world is beautiful and it's okay if you need a bit of reminding. So stay stong. Don’t give up on those hips with scars that show you that you want something badly. Don't give up on those eyes that you see every morning looking back at you say ‘You got this. Go kick some butt.’ Don’t give up on me or you. Because you are beautiful. So go kick some ass and make today, any day, every day for you. Not for anybody else. You. 

 I want to be amongst trees right now. Surrounded by green and brown in every direction. The feel of pine needles and dirt beneath my feet. The scent of earth and honeydew; if smells were coloured the air would only have green. Nothing else just the simplicity of the trees and the way they whisper to each other, swaying and holding each other the way I wish to be held. Talking to each other as I wished to be talked to, calmly, softly, saying nothing more than what is needed. There would be no way to capture the complete peace and wholesome feeling in a photograph, the picture only being a hollow jar that stored the memory, carrying the image around but leaving the true magic back with the trees. I want to be lost with no connection to the outside world but the sky that is painted by the clouds. I want to be away from the hurry and pace of the modern world which no matter where you go you can't escape it. Maybe there I can finally be free, free of the cage that held me in for so long, free of Society wrapping it's golden claws around my head saying we want you to stay, we value you here. I wish to be gone from everything except for the trees. They don't want anything from me, nor do I, just their simplicity and quietness. I want to be amongst the trees right now. Surrounded by pines, cedars, so many that wherever I turn all I can see is the whisper of wind in their branches. Please let me go to be with the trees, even for only a moment. For I want to be lost in a sea of leaves.

Just a reminder that you are all amazing and individual just like the stars x (at Nelson, New Zealand)

It can start for no goddamn reason. Suddenly I feel that everything is happening at once and I can't control it, nothing makes sense anymore and my world is collapsing around me, crashing down in fiery ruins and burning with a passion. I didn't even light a match. Everything is my fault, every reason why I hate myself is pronounced and highlighted in neon on a billboard in front of my face, mocking me, telling me I’m too fat, too ugly, too weak. Just telling me anything that will give the fire fuel. Once the flames have started you can't stop it, you have to wait it out, there is no use telling yourself you are not having trouble breathing, there is no use telling yourself that you don't suck, there is no reason telling yourself that the reason you failed a maths test was because you are not stupid. You can't do anything but wait for the fire to burn out. No air goes in or out and I don't even realise, I can't do anything except feel that silent tears falling down my cheeks and hope that someone will try to rescue me from this hell on earth. No has saved me yet. Black spots edge in from the side of my visio-breathe. One breath. Breathe one breath. Then wait for the black dots to come creeping in to tell you to breathe again. Humans shouldn't have to be reminded to remember to breathe but when I'm stuck in the raging inferno, I forget everything. I don't want to be who I am at the moment. I want to be out of my skin and crawling away, trying to get away from the disappointment I am. Trying to crawl away from people so they won't see what a disappointment I am. I am a disappointment. Usually around the time when I feel worthless, that no one would care if I died or not is when the tears start to thicken and choke. They hold out the air that I forget to breathe in, they don't care if I black out or not. I haven't blacked out yet. Yet. I feel sick, like I’m about to throw up, faint, die, like my chest is on fire. And yet, no one has come to save me yet. I panic that if my parents find out about the maths test I failed that they will hate me. They don't know that and they don't know that when I took the test I was surrounded by fire. I panic because I don't know how my friends will react if I tell them about these. I don't want to make them uncomfortable and be scared of me, finally ignoring me altogether. The fire tells me that this could happen if I tell anyone. I panic because I know if I tell my mum I'm worried I have anxiety, that she will laugh and not believe me, tell me I'm overreacting when I don't think I am. I panic because I'm scared about what would happen if I find out what these are. I Don't know and I panic about that. The fire tells me these things and uses it as fuel, telling me that I'm fat and worthless and that people are better off without me. I haven't told people that yet. Yet. The flames consume me when I least expect it, no rhyme or reason, no warning, just instant fire that is uncontrollable and makes me scared of what is happening to me. I don't know what is happening to me. I don't want to go to someone for them to tell me that I'm just a teenager and that I'm just overreacting. I'm scared of rejection and failure, I'm scared of not being good enough and that's maybe why I care so much. Maybe that's why I care so little. The fire will alway be inside me and I don't know how to put it out. All of this, all of these thoughts will happen within the space of four minutes and I won't let on that I am scared. I don't want to make a fuss so I'll lean down a bit more or excuse myself to go to the bathroom. I shake and to hide that I will try to seem like I'm doing it on purpose, I can't help it. I'm scared that I could have anxiety so I won't mention anything about it. I will seem fine on the outside. But on the inside, I'm collapsing because of a forest fire. And I'm scared of fire.