they moved forward and my heart died.

“There was a day when I used to be proud of myself, of my appearance, of my body. But today is no longer that day. One day, I looked in the mirror and decided to starve myself. I've been starving off and on, carefully, so no one will notice. I, too, promised myself, "You may starve, but don't ever break the skin on your wrist." But one Sunday, out of curiosity, I carefully pressed a blade against my wrist. Now, I cut my hips every night. For a time, I told myself that I wasn't hurt or depressed enough to harm myself in such a manner, but I know now that you have to hate yourself quite a deal to break skin so often. My heart hurts, but I can't stop. I don't even recognize myself anymore. I have people who love me, I have my Lord, but the one who hurts me the most is myself; but I don't know how to stop.” 

ache. by my dear friend rachel and i. 

stomachache. there’s a whale in a part of the ocean that sings its own song and remains alone because no other whale can sing its song. it swims and moans in solitude. tonight, my stomach groans to a similar tune as i turn down another meal. i already ate. it’s not an absolute lie. i ate at some point, god knows when. but my stomach sings and i try to suppress its song.

bodyache. the razor blade is as sharp as a profanity. i press its cold surface against my hipbone and dig in like a miner digging further and further into the ground for a diamond or a golden nugget or something valuable. i used to be valuable, or think of myself that way, the way artists considered even their shoddiest works as valuable. now as the blood runs like red paint, i imagine that i’m painting over a canvas already colored, desperate to make improvements. but i don’t think i could ever be good enough.

heartache. no one tells you how much it hurts because it doesn’t hurt like that. it doesn’t cut, sting or burn. it plants itself deep inside of your sternum and grows to your fingertips. it is acknowledging what is and knowing what could be. it is reaching but never grasping. it is as deep and vast as outer space and i am an astronaut, staring into the cold, black abyss.

i just had the distinct impression that i should post this one next. i love you. He loves you. we all love you
and we're here for you right now, forever, always. 
-kiss kiss kiss, grasses grow-
{pea ess: title via dead hearts by stars}

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sometimes i do not understand why you guys like me so much, but the fact that you do (and that you keep coming around) makes me happier than you can even imagine.

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