It has been too long since my fingertips have traced your smile, or pressed into your palm, or been held in yours.
Give me something raw and messy. Give me unedited. Give me imperfect. Give me us.
I read when I want to kill time. I read when I get stressed. I read when I’m angry. I read as my mom shouts at me for skipping meals and choosing books. I read in an attempt to slip away from the monotony of existence.
Less people will expect you to be flapping your jaw if you’re busy hoovering up the mess.
I get a lot of questions about how I teach myself languages, so I decided to make a master post to help our polyglots and linguists in training.
I had good days without you. I’ve been successful at work, happy in my home, and I am running again. The sunrises are beautiful again. I don’t wake up crying anymore, and though this feels so selfish and terrible to admit, I have been happy since the loss of you. I thought I was healing.
Go through your book list and start adding books in the order that you’re interested in.
The problem with believing I ‘had it under control’ is that inevitably, my eating disorder began to control me. ‘Thinner’ is never-ending, and never, ever enough.
Embrace the relapse for what it is: a fragmented memory about someone who once loved you. Allow yourself to give into it and then let it go.
The public narrative surrounding millennials often goes a little something like this: we’re entitled, lazy and obsessed with political correctness. But this description isn’t fair or accurate.