Anorexia is not a trend. Anorexia is a monster. Don’t be like me and treat her like an ideal you are stronger than me. You will get out of this; don’t let anorexia take you. Don’t become anorexia.
I fell into a dangerous game with ana.
My name is Cristina Martinez and I’m anorexic. I’m hurting on the inside I’m tired and sick and to be quite honest I’m fighting for my life. I’m fighting for my reason to live. I haven’t lost hope, not yet, not today.
I stopped trying to please everyone and I instantly became happier. This is life. I am not depression I am me. I matter. You can’t tear me down with your words I am strong and you wont hold me down. Not today. Not ever.
I wasted so much of my life on counting. I counted: calories/ foot steps/ breaths/ cuts/ failures/ pounds/ inches/ scars/ people/ tears. I counted—I still count, but I count: smiles/ laughs/ jokes/ friends/ happiness.
I want you all to know you are all safe here, and I won’t judge you for who you are or what you are. I want you to let out your feelings if needed, just so you can feel better in the end!
I don’t want you to be afraid to ask me anything, I am here for you all and want you all to Stay Strong. <3
I want you guys to blow up my inbox with letting out all your feelings for all I care, as long as you all feel better in the end. Its always a huge step to ask for help, and know I am here to help you. Please, stay strong sugarcubes, I am here to help for ANYTHING AND EVERYONE, no matter what. <3
Run until your legs feel like lead. Purge until you’re gasping for breath. Cut until the pain is gone. Cry until it’s all over. Sleep until the nightmare passes. Dance until you’re dizzy. Kiss until you love. Breath until you feel normal. Push until someone pulls. Pretend until it’s real. Stop eating until they notice.
Mom: Can you please eat?
Grandma: “You looked better anorexic”
00035) I dig my fingers into my skin and try to rip the fat off my body.
I’m scared. I’m scared that one day my eating disorder is going to kill me. I’m scared of going to sleep because I don’t know if it’ll be my last. I’m scared, but I’m more scared of stopping.
I’m a joke
I’m to the point where I feel like crying every second. I don’t even care if my makeup smears anymore. I’m strange and I’m screwed up. I don’t know what is wrong with me anymore.
I don’t want to tell anyone. I can hear insults in my head and they get louder and louder as the day goes on.
I can’t help but cut. My best friend has begged me to stop but they don’t get it they don’t understand the horrible feeling I feel in the middle of my chest. I don’t know if I can take it anymore.