tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49717223542137990132024-02-07T19:42:15.344+00:00Thinner Than YesterdayHypocritical Musings of Yet Another Selfish Teenage Girl.Twigs Can Flyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10435416235540100256noreply@blogger.comBlogger262125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971722354213799013.post-48355940072606972332015-07-15T19:52:00.001+01:002015-07-15T19:52:36.131+01:00And there's no one else to blameThings have changed. I still with S. I still have a beautiful daughter. I now have a 5 month old son too. <div><br></div><div>I keep breastfeeding because he's more important. Because I can't starve or be sick if I'm feeding a child.</div><div><br></div><div>But I've lost over 8 lbs in under two weeks. I'm laying in bed exhausted, battered by a chest infection and beaten by my own self pity.</div><div><br></div><div>I just want to get better.</div><div>But I crave punishment.</div><div><br></div><div>I just want to get better.</div><div>But I've already pressed self destruct.</div><div><br></div><div>Game over.</div>Twigs Can Flyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10435416235540100256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971722354213799013.post-65335195674114240042014-02-22T17:01:00.002+00:002014-02-22T17:01:59.716+00:00Lost myself, and I'm no where to be found<i>Help, I have done it again. I have been here so many times before...</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I used to listen to those songs, so often. Back when all of this was a game, and I tried to make it fun. When I was proud of myself for not eating. It never lasted.<br />
<br />
I used to listen to those songs when I was screaming silently, crying myself to sleep. When I'd use broken hangers to slice my skin. When I had vodka and pills and didn't understand why I'd still woken up the next morning.<br />
<br />
<i>Hurt myself again today, and the worst part is there's no one else to blame.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I don't listen to those songs anymore. I don't read the books. I find it hard to read back, to the person I used to be. It all took on such a sinister edge. It consumed me.<br />
<br />
ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME.<br />
<br />
<br />
Now I have my daughter. She's two soon. She's perfect. She's all I need.<br />
<br />
<strike>So why have I been throwing up?</strike><br />
<strike><br /></strike>
<strike>So why have I been binging?</strike><br />
<strike><br /></strike>
I used to think that I could just switch off these feelings whenever I wanted to. That, if I really decided that's what I wanted to do, I could eat and feel good about myself.<br />
<br />
The worst part of believing your own lies, is that once you realise, the only person you allowed yourself to trust becomes the biggest liar you've ever known.<br />
<br />
<i>So who do I turn to now?</i>Twigs Can Flyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10435416235540100256noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971722354213799013.post-47915111602938153922014-01-20T12:52:00.003+00:002014-01-20T12:52:56.051+00:00Shhh.It's a niggle. A secret.<br />
It's a whisper that carries you away. A voice sweeping through you.<br />
<br />
It's doubt. It's shame.<br />
It's all a horrific game that threatens to consume you.<br />
It's a double life, but you can't choose which to live. It isn't a choice.<br />
<br />
It's fear. You can't stand the not knowing.<br />
You can't help feeling every little bit. Questioning everything around you.<br />
It's always there. It doesn't matter how many times you try to run,<br />
because it runs just as fast.<br />
<br />
It runs faster. Overtakes you.<br />
Consumes you.<br />
<br />
Until running just isn't an option anymore.<br />
Though, it never was, was it?Twigs Can Flyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10435416235540100256noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971722354213799013.post-86634863338588240452014-01-08T15:51:00.001+00:002014-01-08T15:51:16.375+00:00And in a heart beat, it's all back, threatening to overwhelm you.<br />
<br />
But you can't show anyone. You can't tell anyone.<br />
<br />
It's our secret.Twigs Can Flyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10435416235540100256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971722354213799013.post-50204471446435728832014-01-07T08:58:00.001+00:002014-01-07T08:58:09.326+00:00In The BackgroundI've been contemplating for a long time whether or not to post. It's always been in the back of my mind.<br />
<br />
I'm better now.<br />
I eat now.<br />
I have an amazing daughter and a lovely husband now.<br />
I'm happy. Most of the time.<br />
<br />
<i>So why do I want more? </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I crave thin. Every bite I take is calculated. Behind every snack or meal, is a head full of loathing and a need to find an excuse for why I am The Way I Am.<br />
<br />
S says that I shouldn't be like this, that I'm grown up now, and that it's selfish.<br />
<br />
But three years on, the thoughts are still there. It's a battle, and I don't think I'm strong enough to fight.<br />
<br />
Only time will tell.Twigs Can Flyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10435416235540100256noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971722354213799013.post-12322801207508897652011-10-25T13:42:00.000+01:002011-10-25T13:42:18.372+01:00Dinosaur (:No more weightloss. Not for now.<br />
<br />
I'm getting married in January ladies, and I have a baby on the way. I'm 7 weeks pregnant, and I have to get this right. I know a lot of mums call the baby tadpole, but it really does look like a dinosaur.<br />
<br />
Because of my weight issues, and having had a bmi of around 17.5 when I found out I was pregnant, my pregnancy is high risk. I've miscarried before and I'm going to do everything I damn well can to get this right.<br />
<br />
So I eat now. Whenever I eat a voice in my mind screams at me that I'm doing wrong. Whenever I'm full my head pounds the steady drum of words - This Will Not Stay Down. Whenever I look in the mirror at the little bump I now have, sometimes I want to cry.<br />
<br />
But I'm not going to be sick, and I mustn't cry. I have to eat for my baby.<br />
So for now, my bmi is 21.5. And I'm proud.Twigs Can Flyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10435416235540100256noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971722354213799013.post-88398370401521297262011-10-05T12:24:00.000+01:002011-10-05T12:24:18.238+01:00Recovery is a farce.I thought I could try recovering and losing weight at the same time, but I knew that wasn't so. Cause my mind still ticks in overtime.<br />
<br />
Total calories have all been less than 1000. And after exercise, net calories have all been below 650.<br />
<br />
This isn't healthy. But my bones have started to pop out. I won't stop.Twigs Can Flyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10435416235540100256noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971722354213799013.post-21056509044337102122011-10-03T22:45:00.000+01:002011-10-03T22:45:32.541+01:00Rainbows and Sparkles and Fire galore.<em>Once there was a girl with long dark hair. She used to sit at her room window everyday and watch the cars go by, imagining what life could be like outside her little world. She wanted this perfection, and she wanted the happiness. Her room became her world, and she made it as close to outside as she could.</em><br />
<br />
<em>When Anger came and brought her food, she'd smile sweetly and eat it all. When Anger left she'd open her mouth and rainbows would fly out. The rainbows were good, because they blocked out everything the room stood for. She controlled the rainbows and that was all that mattered. </em><br />
<br />
<em>Whenever the girl looked outside she saw a little package under a tree, andeven though it was closed, that parcel she knew would contain everything she ever wanted. Because it was outside. But she couldn't go outside. She couldn't control outside.</em><br />
<br />
<em>Days passed and the girl began to cry and make little red crisscrosses up her arms and legs, like the stitching on her dress. The rainbows came more often, and became uglier. But she never let a tear fall. If she did, Anger would win. The fire in her heart started to go out, and the sparkle in her eyes started to die. Maybe it didn't matter what was outside. </em><br />
<br />
<em>One night, with the fire nearly out and the sparkle threatening to go, the girl had lots of magic buttons and burning water. She took the buttons one by one, swallowed the magic elixir and waited to be carried away. She woke up with Anger in a strange room, with straws in her arms taking the elixir away and pillow sheets on her crisscrossed arms and legs.</em><br />
<br />
<em>She was Outside.</em><br />
<br />
<em>But it didn't matter, not really. Because the fire was out, and the sparkle had gone. With one little sob, the embers exploded and the rainbows blasted out. The sparkle had almost never existed in the little girl's eye. </em><br />
<br />
<em>All that she'd wanted was to keave that room. </em><br />
<em>But satisfying that dream had led to her doom.</em><br />
<br />
<em>It didn't matter in the end if the tears left her eyes, as what had been broken in the first place could never have been put together again.</em>Twigs Can Flyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10435416235540100256noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971722354213799013.post-71466031356229207812011-09-28T23:46:00.001+01:002011-09-28T23:46:22.608+01:00Disappointment.Why get your hopes up if they're just to be dashed<br />
back down through the ground again and again?<br />
<br />
Why dare to care if it's just <br />
thrown back in your face again and again? <br />
<br />
Starve, binge, eat or purge. It doesn't matter really. <br />
What a vicious circle.Twigs Can Flyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10435416235540100256noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971722354213799013.post-76668590582902616442011-09-26T13:16:00.002+01:002011-09-26T13:16:47.070+01:00Getting better.I'm getting better, I know this. But I can recover and lose weight too. That's what I'll do.<br />
<br />
Just to stop the voices crashing and the tears rolling<br />
down my face<br />
Just for the little smiles, my one saving grace.<br />
I'll eat a little and exercise some more,<br />
I'm not starving.<br />
I'm not starving.<br />
<br />
As long as I don't purge, it's okay. Right?Twigs Can Flyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10435416235540100256noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971722354213799013.post-64223015102640914522011-09-26T00:34:00.000+01:002011-09-26T00:34:25.496+01:00Torn<em>Oh Hazel, </em>they say. <em>Oh how lovely it is to see you looking healthy again. You aren't the bag of bones you used to be. Your eyes are now full of life instead of sunken circles. Your face is fuller now, you look so much better </em>they cry.<br />
<br />
I know this is a good thing. My body is better. I make myself eat. I try not to worry when I eat.<br />
<br />
But my mind is torn. In the back of my head I still tell myself I should be punished for eating. I still feel I need to excercise like mad. But I don't. Because I know that if I do, <em>she</em> will start winning again. <br />
<br />
And as much as I want to be thin, I don't want to fall victim to the disease. It's been a month or so since I threw up, longer since I've used laxatives. <br />
<br />
I'm at a crossroads, but I want to take the right path. I have to.Twigs Can Flyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10435416235540100256noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971722354213799013.post-38537061682529496712011-09-23T00:09:00.000+01:002011-09-23T00:09:29.169+01:00Oh.I like it when I'm feeling like the clouds are made of cotton and like the wind is helping me to fly with the breeze. When I see his face and smile and know everything is fine. I'm marrying him soon. Just trying to break the news to my mum somehow. She won't approve. But he makes me happy, like my BMI being near 20 doesn't matter, and the fact that my size 8s don't always fit me doesn't matter when he puts his arms around me and whispers <em>I love you.</em><br />
<br />
Then it switches. I feel like I want to scream, like there's a voice inside that can't get out. My head's yelling at me not to, telling me I'm wrong. I feel<br />
torn.<br />
<br />
I feel torn. I know what's right and what's wrong. But the thing is, that choices like these aren't as clear cut as whether or not I need to butter my bread.<br />
<br />
It's not as easy as deciding whether or not I'm going to eat today.<br />
<br />
I'm tearing<br />
right down<br />
the middleTwigs Can Flyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10435416235540100256noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971722354213799013.post-41225923206386104022011-09-13T22:16:00.001+01:002011-09-13T22:17:18.480+01:00I'm Done.<strike><span style="font-size: large;">Making the effort.</span></strike><br />
<strike><span style="font-size: large;">Caring.</span></strike><br />
<strike><span style="font-size: large;">Hating my dad.</span></strike><br />
<strike><span style="font-size: large;">Loving my dad.</span></strike><br />
<strike><span style="font-size: large;">Eating.</span></strike><br />
<strike><span style="font-size: large;">Purging.</span></strike><br />
<strike><span style="font-size: large;">Starving.</span></strike><br />
<strike><span style="font-size: large;">Sleeping.</span></strike><br />
<strike><span style="font-size: large;">Nightmares.</span></strike><br />
<strike><span style="font-size: large;">Being Awake All The Time.</span></strike><br />
<strike><span style="font-size: large;">Being A Good Person.</span></strike><br />
<strike><span style="font-size: large;">Not Knowing What I Want.</span></strike><br />
<strike><span style="font-size: large;">Blogging.</span></strike><br />
<strike><span style="font-size: large;">Not Blogging.</span></strike><br />
<strike><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span></strike><br />
<strike><span style="font-size: large;">Being Confused.</span></strike><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: magenta;">... I wish I wasn't so confused.</span><br />
<span style="color: magenta;">I'm still here, I've just lost myself.</span><br />
<span style="color: magenta;">I'll comment on you all soon, I promise. Sorry for being such a shit blogger.</span><br />
<span style="color: magenta;">Thank you to those who still love me.</span>Twigs Can Flyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10435416235540100256noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971722354213799013.post-7764140950179790022011-09-06T22:23:00.000+01:002011-09-06T22:23:40.645+01:00Fuck yourself.Anonymous said... <br />
<br />
<br />
Just cos you're mentally ill does not mean you can blame a faith you clearly do no believe and at the same time abuse a faith to justify you mentally sick and disgusting actions. <br />
<br />
You need help. Like seriously, go see a doctor. <br />
<br />
4 September 2011 01:27 <br />
<br />
Twigs Can Fly said... <br />
<br />
Yo anon,<br />
<br />
Stop being a pussy. I'm cleary not falsifying the idea of faith, I just think that the way religion portrays God to be is bullshit.<br />
<br />
So fuck off, go educate yourself, and maybe try studying philosophy.<br />
<br />
Safe.<br />
~Twigs.<br />
<br />
P.S. Go fuck yourself. Zero tolerance to people who have no academic abilities what so ever. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
LOLOLOL. I don't care about people anymore.Twigs Can Flyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10435416235540100256noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971722354213799013.post-10852687440460379742011-08-23T18:55:00.000+01:002011-08-23T18:55:22.993+01:00Starving? Never.<span style="color: red;">I haven't purged since Monday or so. But I haven't pooed either, so I need to go get some laxatives.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: red;">I'm not purposely starving myself all the time. A lot of the time I just don't feel the hunger anymore.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: red;">I'll weigh on Friday. Though I already know I'm lower than the 135lbs by my birthday goal. I wonder if I'll be at 130lbs... </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: red;">It's getting harder now. Samir knows I'm being sick and keeps doing things like going straight into the bathroom after dinner. But it makes me all the more determined. I need to be perfect for him. I need to be perfect for me.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: red;">Tits and Banter say I've become more womanly in my figure. I've actually lost over half a stone in two weeks. Hooded jumpers make a welcome return.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: red;">I'm playing the game. But am I winning or losing?</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<em>Dear me, get it out quicker.</em><br />
<em>Let's lie again... You loved your dinner.</em>Twigs Can Flyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10435416235540100256noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971722354213799013.post-44714404980431180752011-08-19T12:39:00.000+01:002011-08-19T12:39:09.036+01:00Bump In The NightCan't sleep. Won't sleep. Minutes tick by and hours pass by, but all<br />
I can feel is the violent clawing of something within me. But there can't be<br />
anything within me. I'm empty. <br />
<br />
Boyfriend is awake and asks what's wrong,<br />
Nothing's wrong, can't you see? Nothing's wrong.<br />
Drink some water to dull the pain. But this sort of pain never leaves you.<br />
She never leaves you.<br />
<br />
You embody her, know her. Now you are her.<br />
When you purge, you are her.<br />
When you pick at food to paint a false picture, you are her.<br />
When you've lost all hope,<br />
but she's in the back of your mind, telling you to carry on,<br />
You've lost yourself.<br />
<br />
I've lost myself. Within the numbers, the negatives, the lies and deceit,<br />
I've lost myself.<br />
I'm losing you. Within the numbers, the negatives, the lies and deceit,<br />
I've lost you.<br />
<br />
We used to count on eachother, remember? Through thick and thin,<br />
through tears and smiles.<br />
<br />
But I'm not me anymore.<br />
I'm sorry.Twigs Can Flyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10435416235540100256noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971722354213799013.post-35918646075885742652011-08-18T18:58:00.000+01:002011-08-18T18:58:21.103+01:00Grr, who is anon!Anon please just reveal your name, I can't keep doing this! Tell me who you are and I'll come to you, but you can't come to me because I don't live in the same place anymore. I moved to near the Tescos in Heath.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I purged yesterday. Leyla was downstairs with my mum, and my mum's fiance. It's like I've taken a million steps backwards. But secretly I'm thrilled. Secretly knowing what I'm doing to myself makes adrenalin rush through my body.<br />
<br />
Physically I'm not ill. Mentally I'm not ill.<br />
<br />
Maybe if I repeat those enough they'll come true. Now 9 stone 4lbs.Twigs Can Flyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10435416235540100256noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971722354213799013.post-14812799479055434992011-08-17T13:08:00.000+01:002011-08-17T13:08:58.323+01:00Anon, who are you?Ring ring, the telephone goes. I won't answer it because I know<br />
what's waiting for me on the end of the line.<br />
My partner is looking for excuses not to be mine.<br />
<br />
Waves wash through and cause decay, when did my emotions <br />
become this way? I'm devoid of everything. Can't feel a thing.<br />
All I know is that something is missing.<br />
But there are no metal hangers at this new house,<br />
and the prospect of knives scares me to hell.<br />
<br />
What is this that I've become? A trickster of my own right.<br />
Painting a picture for all to see.<br />
On facebook I put the older fatter pictures of me<br />
But don't say a word, or else they'll all know.<br />
The Hazel they know died a long time ago.Twigs Can Flyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10435416235540100256noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971722354213799013.post-71109657886294472432011-08-15T16:42:00.000+01:002011-08-15T16:42:00.245+01:00SuffocationHazel. You need help, coz this ain't right. Ana is not a person, it is a figament of your mind that impairs your visual outlook your on body. You've been like this for years, I thought you were getting better and moved on from this. for Leyla's sake. But cleary not give her 2 more years before she starts sicking down the toilet if she already hasn't now. Well done on your journey to come a skeleton. Well Eventually you'll be 6 feet under. and 4 stone and dead. So maybe your sister might be saved from this horrible mental diseased., Unless by some miracle you see that your lifestyle is not healthy and you get a reality check. Coz this ain't living. <br />
<br />
<br />
By Anonymous <br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Anonymous, you brought me to tears. Who are you? You're one of two people, this much I know. Leyla can't end up like me, I won't let her. Yet sometimes I see glimpses of what she could become. I don't want this, I don't want to be ill. The prospect of dying, though sometimes welcomed, is scary. I don't know how to change. The weight drops, some comes back, more drops, then a little more comes back. It's like my mind is playing a game over and over again. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">It's not about a reality check, I know this is wrong and I know this isn't healthy. But I can't live any other way.</span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Please tell me who you are.</span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Hazel.</span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>I feel suffocated. This isn't living. My BMI is in the 18s now, and I have ready access to scales, and a gym around the corner. I can't keep doing this, but I can't stop.</em></span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> <br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;">One friend, two friend, three friends four,</span> <br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;">How many more will you throw out the door?</span> <br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;">You don't need them, you only need me</span> <br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;">I'll show you how many lbs lighter you will be.</span>Twigs Can Flyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10435416235540100256noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971722354213799013.post-16660372246707843552011-08-05T13:37:00.000+01:002011-08-05T13:37:41.100+01:00Tick Tock.<span style="color: lime;">Tick</span> <span style="color: magenta;">tock</span>. <span style="color: lime;">Tick</span> <span style="color: magenta;">tock</span>.<em> You're wasting your life</em>. Run down the stairs, one at a time. <br />
<strong>You fat bitch, look what you've done</strong>.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: lime;">Feel your ribs,</span> <span style="color: magenta;">your lungs expand</span>. How empowering it is to run your hand <br />
along each one...<br />
Keep up the pretense, you know <em>you don't need to eat</em>.<br />
Let me do the talking, they won't be able to tell. <br />
See I'v<em>e taken over</em> and the <strike>lies</strike> start to spill.<br />
<br />
<em>"I'm happy</em>. I <span style="font-size: x-small;">love</span> you. <strike>I can't wait to break fast</strike>."<span style="font-size: large;"> Why're you squirming</span>? <br />
<span style="color: red;">We're beating them at last.</span><br />
<br />
<em>Don't you remember what I told you before</em>? You can't <span style="color: magenta;">run</span> and <span style="color: lime;">hide</span> anymore<br />
because now <span style="color: red;">I've got you back</span><br />
<span style="color: red;">And I won't let go</span>. <span style="color: magenta;"><em>So smile and dance and put on a show</em></span> - who're you fooling with that shit sharade?<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Put some effort into it. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: red;">One potato</span>, <span style="color: red;">two potato, three potato, four</span>.<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Let's hide dinner in the drawer.</span><br />
<span style="color: yellow;">One retch, maybe two or three.</span><br />
"<em>I love your dinner</em>" says the toilet to me.<br />
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<em>Can't escape</em>, <span style="font-size: x-small;">won't escape.</span><br />
<span style="color: red;">I'm lost in the tunnel.</span><br />
<strong>My soul died a while ago.</strong>Twigs Can Flyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10435416235540100256noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971722354213799013.post-91005989219878769172011-08-04T13:45:00.000+01:002011-08-04T13:45:32.726+01:00Fasting for thirty days.<span style="background-color: white; color: magenta; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Oh how I love having been born a muslim. I can fast during Ramdhan and no one can question my reasoning.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: magenta; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I don't believe in God.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
How can <span style="color: red;">he</span> be there when we walk, trailing bleeding wrists. When our stomach are stretched beyond repair.<br />
When people are dying and no body cares,<span style="color: red;"> how can he be</span>?<br />
<br />
How can <span style="color: red;">he</span> be there when our <span style="font-size: x-small;">tears are falling</span>, and<span style="font-size: xx-small;"> stomachs are heaving</span>. When yet another lie is told:<br />
"<span style="font-size: large;">I'm okay".</span> But <span style="color: yellow;">how can you be</span>?<br />
<br />
Our bodies rot, but we aren't dead. <em>Not really</em>.<br />
<span style="color: magenta;">We walk and we talk and we laugh empty laughs</span>. <strong>But our souls aren't here</strong>. <em><span style="font-size: x-small;">Not really</span></em>.<br />
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So don't wax lyrical about the<span style="color: red;"> Man Above</span>, when <em>children are dying</em>, and marriage isn't<strike> love</strike>,<br />
Don't tell me <span style="color: red;">He's </span>watching, and <span style="color: red;">he</span> has a plan and <span style="color: red;">he's</span> there. <span style="color: red; font-size: large;">How can he be</span>?<br />
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<em>So now it's thirty days of soul cleansing fasting?</em><br />
Ha, I'll meet you in Hell. <span style="color: red;">We'll see who's laughing.</span>Twigs Can Flyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10435416235540100256noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971722354213799013.post-72312951904157998702011-08-03T14:04:00.000+01:002011-08-03T14:04:24.036+01:00Ner.Work internet is about to die, so just thought I'd quickly update! Only eaten 200 calories since the day before yesterday, and I've signed up for spinning classes. I'm not at my highest yet, but I am back at 140lbs which is disgusting. I'll be at 130 by my birthday. <br />
<br />
Fuck being a fat 18 year old.Twigs Can Flyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10435416235540100256noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971722354213799013.post-4484119272179991632011-08-01T13:33:00.000+01:002011-08-01T13:33:52.428+01:00Bitch had it coming.I told you it would happen. You knew you couldn't carry on this way anymore. <em>Filled out nicely </em>they said. <em>It's good to see you aren't ill anymore </em>they said. <em>Look at those lovely new curves.</em><br />
<br />
How dare you. Only I can fill the hole you try to fill with food. Only I can make you worth something. But you go against me every time. You fight me. Why? For <em>normality? </em>|Don't make me laugh, you could never be normal. Just look at you.<br />
<br />
I see those rolls that're developing, I see that muscle losing tone and definition. Just because the numbers are smaller. It doesn't mean anything. You're fat. You make me sick. Why should I even bother? I should leave your ass to get fatter and fatter. I should leave you to follow in the obese footsteps of your mother. You're going to be just like her. And it's all your fault.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">I'm sorry Ana, please don't leave me. I need you. </span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
See. You come running back everytime. But now I won't even let you go in the first place.Twigs Can Flyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10435416235540100256noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971722354213799013.post-82757110699380030972011-07-29T13:36:00.000+01:002011-07-29T13:36:02.212+01:00High like a kite.I like ganja. I occasionally like other things. I like the numb feeling during. It's bliss - I'm quietly numb, emotionally paralysed.<br />
<br />
Samir made me cry yesterday, not intentionally, it was a wake up call. How I had to stop being silly and move on, and be there for Leyla. And that I needed a plan and to go to uni.<br />
<br />
I feel better now, but I've realised many things. I need to grow up and stop being selfish. I have to stop Leyla from becoming what I quickly became.<br />
<br />
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High like a kite maybe, but my heart's in knots. How did any of this happen?Twigs Can Flyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10435416235540100256noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971722354213799013.post-79481918452688959372011-07-25T13:42:00.000+01:002011-07-25T13:42:22.400+01:00Lol.<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I literally cannot afford food. It's amazing.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">But it's taking so much strength, being right by the tantalising smells of my work colleagues eating. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">My body wants it, but my mind knows better.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I need a new job anyway. Some people are making it so difficult to be here, so difficult to be in the relationship I'm in. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Difficult to breathe.</span>Twigs Can Flyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10435416235540100256noreply@blogger.com2