I used to be real wonky around food. I'm not so much anymore. I just like running and playing in the ocean and never, ever taking myself seriously.
Reblogged from finding-jodi  334 notes

I’m 16 years old,
Sitting at home, crying
Over food that scares me and
A self that I hate.
I am 16 and dying.

This is the reality of anorexia.

Whilst I dig my nails into
My despised, detested flesh
And cry my breaking heart to
Sleep, somewhere my friend is,
Kissing that boy underneath a thousand
Stars and a sky as clear
As her conscience.

And as I slowly fall
Into my slumber, my demons
Haunting me even in my
Dreams, somewhere another 16 year old
Girl is sleeping peacefully, holding onto
Love, happiness and
Life.

And when I cry at the crack of
Dawn, because I do not
Want to take another day,
Somewhere another 16 year old
Girl is walking peacefully
Breathing in life
And breathing out fresh,
Pure delight.
She is 16 and living,

I am not.

This is not fair.

The reality of anorexia
Is missing those special nights
Underneath the moonlight.
Feeling your heart beat
Strongly and thanking God
For your life,
Missing what it is, to be
Young, 16, free.

Do not let anorexia take that away from you.
You’re only your age once,
Make it count.

By 16 and Dying, 16 and Living. (via rediscoveryandrecovery)

Reblogged from toneitup-coffee  12,454 notes

professoralbusdumbledore:

when you hate your legs 
remember that they carried you through the hardest parts of your life. they get you out of bed every day and take you to what you love.

when you hate your stomach
remember that it helped you gain strength. it holds the memories of deep laughter and great meals. it is full of warmth and joy.

when you hate your arms
remember that they are strong, which makes you strong. but they are also soft and can be used to cuddle and hold the ones you love.