i know you're lonely. i know it feels comforting to slip into the same old familiar loneliness. the same religiously good hurt of refusing yourself the things you need and the space to heal. i know it feels beautiful to have something to worship. i know in this cold, confusing world, having goodness be safely defined as thinness within a community with whom you can push for that ideal feels like a comfort. i know it feels safe and familiar. but if you think that this is something that you can compartmentalize and keep safe tucked in a corner of your life, you can't; and if you think it ever ends, or that your ideal is something you will ever reach, you're wrong. this disorder is a parasite, and it will take over every corner of your life and every minute of your time and in the end, you will not be rewarded for it. no one will like you any better, least of all yourself; no one will thank you for hurting yourself like this; the world will not turn rose-coloured, your head will not clear and your perfect life will not materialize. you will come out of the end of the tunnel and you will have lost years of your life that you can never get back, and you will realize you were worshipping a false god the whole time. you will realize you never needed to change to wake up with a smile on your lips and birds singing in the window, you never needed to change to dance in the kitchen with your significant other or feel the warmth of another's presence and laughter. if this made you doubt yourself at all, come and take my hand. i know the grave is comfortable, but don't let yourself sleep yet.
andulkaphoto
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stormborns
jacobvanloon
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