Bubbly.kimmy

She tries to draw with Silver, but it comes out RED. 
          

Telling somebody who cuts to "just stop" is like telling somebody with a broken leg to "just walk." Telling somebody with an Eating Disorder to "just eat" is like telling somebody who's blind to "just see" Telling somebody with Depression to "just smile" is like telling somebody with cancer to "just get over it" 

She looked at the food in front of her in disgust. "Too Fat" she whispered. She walked over to the garbage and threw it all out

Saying you know what it's like to have Anorexia is like saying you know what it's like I be decapitated because you've had a paper cut. 

Puke and Starve and Drink and Cut because you need the anesthetic and it works. For a while. But then the anesthetic turns to poison and by then it's too late because you are mainlining it now, strait into your soul. It is rotting you and you can't stop. 

I'll break down and cry. I'll drag the razor across my skin, I'll scream out that I want to die, but no one will listen. 

Fake Smiles, Dried Eyes, Scratched Wrists, Bruised Thighs, White Pills,  Rope Tied,  Gun Loaded, Suicide. 

One cut, two cuts, three cuts, four. Come on Darling, what's one more? Five cuts, six cuts, seven cuts, eight. Oh what a mess this will create. 

Look at yourself you fat ass. You need to loose some weight. A thin, beautiful, perfect child I will help you create. First we'll start with one pound and by the time that's through, it can't possibly be enough so now we'll push for two. The two pounds come and go but your still not pleased with what you see so then I'll whisper in your ear "Hey, let's shoot for three" Pound after Pound you will shed but yet you yearn for more. So what's the harm I say our next goal will be four. Over the time, you'll get addicted. Four will turn to eight and so you'll keep on losing as you fuss about your weight. You look in the mirror and are unpleased with the fat protruding from your skin. Eight turns into sixteen. You just want to be thin. Oh hold on, now you're getting sick but you don't give a damn because now you're truly obsessed. You're scared of gaining just one gram. And by now you've lost fifty pounds and you want to double that. But you don't see your getting deathly thin. You're the opposite of fat. But you don't see it. You say "A couple more pounds, just a few." And not much further on, this disease has killed you. So people go to your funeral and they cry as they play the last song. And I'm just standing there smirking. Don't you see this was my plan all along?