Reblog And Make A Wish! This Was Removed From Tumbrl Due To “violating One Or More Of Tumblr’s Community

Bangtan meetings part 1/??

I thought for a while that maybe I could not handle being hurt again. That maybe my shattered heart would crack just one more time. But when in my deepest throws of sorrow, I remember that there cannot possibly be anything worse than what I've already gone through. That life has handed me the shortest stick in the pile that you cannot even use it as a matchstick. But maybe I'm okay with that. Maybe I need to lose grasp of that stick and let it fly away in the wind, like the ashes of a loved one or a dandelion for a wish. Maybe when you stop defining your life by limitations you will see that there are endless possibilities.

Melissa Rose

If you can speak words to me as if I was just a doll gathering dust in your attic, then you do not deserve the right to hold my heart.

Melissa Rose

Keep the flame going for those we have lost to suicide. 

I can contort my body into a thousand positions. But none of them feel the same way I felt when you held me in your arms at night.

Melissa Rose

I swear it’s following me around. I’ve told people about it, but they don’t believe me. In the shower, I’m terrified to close my eyes. What if it sneaks in from the drain and puts its skeleton hands around my waist and won’t let go until I’m drowning under the spray of water and can no longer scream for help? I lay in bed at night as it knocks at my window. “Let me in”. No. “Let me in”. I close my eyes but then the feeling comes back again and I realize now that I’ve opened the window. Now it’s staring at me. It grins. It tells me it’s sweet stories, tongue licking at my ear as it lulls me to sleep. But in the morning, when I wake, I can barely move. I’m sluggish, disoriented, confused. Each step is like standing on hot coals, but I cannot get my body to move further than the end of my bedroom. And I hear it again, “Don’t go out there. Stay in here. It’s so much better in here. Isn’t it?” I stand as still as a painting as the voice repeats itself over and over. I know it won’t stop until I’m under the covers, until I’m in bed and don’t leave until I’m nothing but a skeleton and some tears. But I slam my first against the door. I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this. I mumble under my breath, but she cannot hear me. “What did you say darling? I know you’ll feel better once you get back to bed…” I slump against the door, wondering if maybe the bed is the safe haven I’ve always been searching for. But then that feeling comes back. “Im hungry.” I say defiantly, as I rip the door open. There is no one there. Just wisps of black flying out the window. But I know she’ll be back. But as I slip into the bathroom, I tremble as I stand on the scale. I hope for above 100. That’s all I need. Something to cling on to. I hear her claws against the window but I stare at the numbers until my eyes lose focus. 99. I can deal with that. I lift my shirt, my ribs are showing, but when I run my fingers along the expanse of my body, I do not feel all bones and misery. She claws again. “You’ll feel better when you don’t eat.” She whispers from outside. But how can I feel better when I can barely stand? How can I feel better when my body starts to collapse inside itself imploding like a broken star? I stumble out of the bathroom and into the kitchen. “There’s nothing here you want.” She says. But my stomach is growling and I don’t care what I eat anymore as long as it’s food. No more crackers. No more skipped meals. No more fainting. I read a book about a girl with an eating disorder. Bulimia. She died alone in a seedy hotel room when she threw up one too many times and ripped her esophagus clean open. Choking to death, in order to be perfect. I may be skin and bones and I may think about dying. But I will not let this monster take me. She speaks kind words into my ears and part of me wishes for the warmth of my bed, the calm of my room. Maybe she is right. Maybe everything will be better when just the skeleton of me exists. And I turn around and take a step towards my room, and she smiles. “Good girl,” She coos, like I’m a little baby, learning how to walk. But I’m learning much more than how to walk, im learning how to survive, how to be perfect. But someone once told me that there was no such thing as perfect, and that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. And the last time he told me I was beautiful, my heart sank into the depth of the earth, growing like a tree ready to reach the sunlight above. So I reach for that candy bar, and she screams, “Stop stop stop stop. What do you think you’re doing??” And I remember what it feels like to eat cotton balls, the cloth sticking to my mouth like peanut butter, but it was not peanut butter. I remember checking boxes for calories, when I should have been checking for prices. I remember crying alone in my room, wondering who’s going to save me, or maybe I’ll die alone in a hotel room, like that girl in that book. But when I bite into that candy bar, the monster dissipates. I no longer have to hear her cries, her soft words, her screams. And suddenly I remember how good chocolate tastes, how real food feels in my mouth. And when my friend calls me to go to dinner, I reply “yes”. This will be my first full meal in two months. I think I’m going to cherish it.

Melissa Rose

I think the hardest part is convincing yourself that you are not hungry. 

Favourite moments ♥ // Let’s Dance: History

me at family gatherings