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1. high school will drain you. it’s panic attacks in the hallway and crying in the bathroom and eating lunch in the back of the library because the cafeteria makes your heart beat too fast. It’s getting high and throwing up. you will learn a lot about death and how to treat your cuts. You will also learn what it’s like to get drunk and laugh at the stars and how to write poetry that makes the world hurt less. You will read books that you fall in love with. you will fall in love. you’ll get closer to your mother because you’ll need someone to help you with your math homework and teach you how to put on your makeup and wipe away your tears.

2. the first boy you fall in love with will break you. he’ll tell you he loves you and convince you to fuck him in the back of his parents beat up volvo and then he’ll tell all his friends what you taste like and stop calling you before you fall asleep. delete his number and throw away the stuffed bear he won you at the carnival three weeks before. your carpet will be stained with tears and vomit and liquor and you’ll fight with you dad a lot more than usual. you’ll spit up pieces of your heart for weeks. you’ll burn alive when you see him in the halls. you won’t always feel like you’re cracking and a few months later you’ll be falling asleep on the phone with someone else. let it hurt for a little while but don’t let it kill you. never let it kill you.

3. the girl you’ve been best friends with for 9 years will stop speaking to you. one night you’ll make plans with her and she’ll cancel at the last minute because she’s sick but you’ll see her updating her snapchat story with pictures of empty alcohol bottles and blurry eyes and the mean girls who never let you sit with them. try to forgive her. she’s going through all the bloody, broken teeth, black and blue filled nights like you are. everyone’s trying to survive so don’t be too hard on anyone. especially yourself.

4. your teacher will ask the class questions and you’ll know the answers but you’ll keep your shaky hand between your knees and keep your tongue glued to the top of your mouth. don’t bother. speak out. nothing bad will happen. so when your biology teachers calls on you to tell him about last nights assignment, don’t stare at the spinning ground and mumble through numb lips. you’re smarter than you think and nobody is looking at you anyway.

5. you’re not his baby girl. when he tries to kiss your neck and pull you onto his lap, get up and leave. you don’t have to go upstairs with him. you don’t have to sleep with him because he’s begging. it’s not your job to fuck around with boys who can’t remember your name. take care of yourself even when he’s calling you a tease and whispering just loud enough for you to hear.

6. go out. go to football games and sit on hard metal bleachers for hours and take shots that taste like bleach and hold hands with the cute boy from english class. go to that dumb party and don’t complain or stand in the corner. things are always moving. people are always falling in love and laughing and putting themselves back together. be part of it.

7. ask for help. you don’t have to let yourself rot. when you don’t know how to do something in math class ask your teacher to explain. when your heart falls out of your chest and shatters at your feet, ask your best friend to come over and watch bad movies with you until you both feel less dead. when the boy you’re convinced you love kisses someone else, ask your mother to help stop the bleeding. you’re not alone so stop acting like it. no more breakdowns at three in the morning locked in the bathroom screaming. your older sister is still awake. crawl into bed with her.

8. it all ends. high school doesn’t last forever and 6 years from now you’ll be whole again. you won’t remember the names of the boys who made you cry or the girls who fucked you over. you won’t remember the names of the teachers who made your cheeks turn red and tied your stomach in knots. you won’t remember the time you fell down the stairs in front of everyone. you won’t remember what it’s like to want to die. try to remember the times you laughed so hard you spit out your drink. try to remember the people who helped put you back together. try to remember the people who bled with you when things got messy, when they call you at 3 in the morning to ask how you’ve been, answer the phone.

9. don’t forget to breathe.

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9 things to remember when you are 14  (via extrasad)

Please stop and read this.

I’m doing a project on gay rights in today’s society.

So if you believe that same sex couples should be allowed to get married, please reblog this.

This would be a lot of help, thank you.

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A FAT LITTLE GIRL
is eight years old, she’s got pink cheeks that her grandmother calls chubby. She wants a second cookie but her aunt says “you’ll get huge if you keep eating.” She wants a dress and the woman in the changing room says “she’ll probably need a large in that.” She wants to have dessert and her waiter says “After all that dinner you just had? You must be really hungry!” and her parents laugh.

A FAT LITTLE GIRL
is eleven and she is picked second-to-last in gym class. She watches a cartoon and sees that everyone who is annoying is drawn with a big wide body, all sweaty and panting. At night she dreams she is swelling like the ocean over seabeds. When she wakes up, she skips school.

A FAT LITTLE GIRL
is thirteen and her friends are stick-thin ballerinas with valleys between their hipbones. She is instead developing the wide curves of her mother. She says she is thick but her friends argue that she’s “muscular” and for some reason this hurts worse than just admitting that she jiggles when she walks and she’ll never be a dancer. Eating seconds of anything feels like she’s breaking some unspoken rule. The word “indulgent” starts to go along with “food.”

A FAT LITTLE GIRL
is fourteen and she has stopped drinking soda and juice because they bloat you. She always takes the stairs. She fidgets when she has to sit still. Whenever she goes out for ice cream, she leaves half at the bottom - but someone else always leaves more and she feels like she’s falling. She pretends to like salad more than she does. She feels eyes burrowing through her body while she eats lunch. Kate Moss tells her nothing tastes as good as skinny feels, but she just feels like she is wilting.

A FAT LITTLE GIRL
is fifteen the first time her father says “you’re getting gaunt.” She rolls her eyes. She eats one meal a day but thinks she stays the same size. Every time she picks up a brownie she thinks of the people she sees on t.v. and every time she has cake, she thinks of the one million magazine articles on restricting calories. She used to have no idea a flat stomach was supposed to be beautiful until she saw advice on how to achieve it. She cuts back on everything. She controls. They tell her she’s getting too thin but she doesn’t believe it.

A FAT LITTLE GIRL
is sixteen and tearing herself into shreds in order for a thigh gap big enough to hush the screams in her head. She doesn’t “indulge,” ever. She can’t go out with friends, they expect her to eat. She damns her sweet tooth directly to hell. It’s coffee for breakfast and tea for lunch and if there’s dance that evening, two cups of water and then maybe an apple. She lies all the time until she thinks the words will rot her teeth. She dreams about food when she sleeps. Her aunt begs her to eat anything, even just a small cookie. They say, “One bite won’t make you fat, will it, darling?”

A FAT LITTLE GIRL
is seventeen and too sick to go to prom because she can’t stand up for very long. She thinks she wouldn’t look good in a dress anyway. Her nails are blue and not because they are painted. Her hair is too thin to do anything with. She’s tired all the time and always distracted. She once absently mentions the caloric value of grapes to the boy she is with and he looks at her like she’s gone insane and in that moment she realizes most people don’t have numbers constantly scrolling in their heads. She swallows hard and tries to figure out where it all went wrong, why more than a granola bar for a meal makes her feel sick, why she tastes disease and courts with death. She misses sleep. She misses being able to dream. She misses being herself instead of just being empty.

A FAT LITTLE GIRL
is twenty and writes poetry and is a healthy weight and still fights down the voices every single day. She puts food in her mouth and sometimes cries about it but more and more often feels good, feels balanced. Her cheeks are pink and they are chubby and soft and no longer growing slight fur. Her hair is long and it is beautiful. She still picks herself apart in the mirror, but she’s starting to get better about it. She wears the dress she likes even if it only fits her in a large and she doesn’t feel like a failure for it. She is falling in love with the fat on her hips.

She is eating out with friends and not worrying about finding the lowest calorie item on the menu when she hears a mother tell her four year old daughter “You can’t have ice cream, we just had dinner.
You don’t want to end up as a fat little girl.”

"
(via yayhaz)

Reblog if you’re unattractive.

"

And I learned ‘You deserve better’

was sometimes no more

than a synonym for ‘I don’t want to hurt you,

and I want you to be happy,

but I don’t love you anymore.’

"
Beau Taplin, You Deserve Better  (via sexual-feelings)

Reblog if it’s ok to message you just to talk.

shh-armin-ultra-strong:

And maybe be friends

cockchomp:

not killing myself is a personal achievement but you cant really brag about that at dinner parties

"After all that we had.
We act like we had never met."
The xx (via ahhhmayzing)
"3AM: the time to miss people who don’t miss you."
Ten Word Story #11 (via bl-ossomed)