Some Friend Of My Cousin Committed Recently. I Was So Sad Even Tho It Didn't Know Really Well That Kid,

BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD

me, while being abused: it's okay, I'm used to this already, and I'm tough, I can take it.

me, years later when the trauma symptoms hit: I WAS SO WRONG

We were two hours on call, after days without one because of me studying. She's so sweet, and I'm so grateful because she helped me learn all those vitamin's names. She's the best.

At least is my last try.

Hey, I'm here again¿ I'ven been sososo dead here I was in exams I had at leas 28373937 anxiety attacks:/ Y'all know what that means, right? BINGING:0000 I gained that three pounds I thought I lost last month I feel sooooo fucking bad, and it's not a joke, I thought about purging agAIN AND I DON'T PURGE SINCE JANUARY, I'M GOING FUCKING CRAZY ABOUT MY FUCKING WEIGHT. I tried, I swear I tried. I didn't notice when food became numbers, and I remember how time ago I read some tumblr post about whY DON'T TO RESTRICT FOODS AND ALL THAT SHIT THAT ALL ANA POST TELLS YOU and I said "nah, I'm not gonna be thaaat bad, right?" I feel bad, but I can't stop I'm empty. That's all, but next week or maybe tomorrow, depends on my mood. I'm gonna try to ristrict again, just to be calm. I'm sorry

I miss my girlfriend so much

Hallucination that turned into a draft, possibly

Histologia went bad. Like, bad. I've never ever in my life had such a bad grade. Am i surprised? No. But it does feel awful to be so bad at something and not being able to change it before things like these happen.

Semiología is worrying me, i don't feel prepared, I'm not ready for that exam. I am terrified of failing again.

Admitting you were abused is hard for whole multitude of reasons, but one that hit me most was the fact that I had to admit to myself that abusers have managed to really, really hurt me. Really badly. That all their efforts to get to me, to make me doubt myself, to make me hate myself, were successful, no matter how much I fought, and pretended not to be hit by it all. I didn’t manage to defend myself. I didn’t beat them. I got hurt. I couldn’t get out of there. I couldn’t get away from them. I continued to get hurt. For a long long time. I was at their mercy. They could have done anything to me. They did anything to me. Nobody stopped them. Nobody fought for me. Despite all my efforts to keep myself sane, to keep myself okay, I am filled with wounds and trauma and damage too vast to even asses. They got what they wanted. And I lost big parts of myself to it. I’ve been lying to myself when I tried to be okay. I wasn’t okay. I needed help. I wasn’t unbeatable. I wasn’t quite that strong. Humans aren’t made to be that strong. Humans aren’t made to survive in environment where they’re tortured and abandoned completely. I wasn’t made to withstand that either. I got broken. I lived in an illusion that this was okay. It wasn’t. I was scared. I was alone. I thought it was my fault. I could have died. It’s a miracle I’m still around.

some days ago i was playing poker with my family, and speaking french (because they know that helps me with practice).

Then my dad comes to play.

my dad and my little brother started arguing about something of the cards and-

LB: he does that all the time, doesn´t he?

Me: C´est la verite

LB: thE whAT¿?

Dad: *staring at me*

Me: ThE tRutH

Dad: *laughs*

i know it´s ridiculous, but y´all don´t know how insecure my dad makes me about the languages i speak, i still insult everybody in french while we play poker ´cause that´s what i do better 💖