i’ve been thinking of formulating how much cyanide i would need to kill myself at my weight/height, then purchasing said amount off of the deep web with the lowly number of bitcoins i have left. i would carry it with me *at all times* in a decorative little vile on a necklace so no one would question it. it would be comforting to always have the option of the sweet release of death hanging from my neck.
hanging out on my new bed
first time i’ve ever had a bed bigger than a twin mattress!! let the sleepovers ensue
when i say i feel “fat” i’m covering up the real emotion that i feel with that word. fat is just another expression of sad/lonely/depressed/anxious/etc. my subconscious has associated these emotions with the word fat due to past trauma during which my weight was associated with a negative emotion. now this learned habit has manifested itself into an eating disorder that i will likely struggle with until my dying day.
i can’t dance i know too many useless things and i’m generally not vry fun 2 be around
plz release me