story time

Hello, girls.

I'm back from the land of real people, for an actual post!

I've managed to get a job, sorry I've been so scarce lately.

Anyway, I believe I owe y'all a bit of an update, and a story, and especially thanks to Ayden, for the award!

I hereby bestow this award on the first 8 people to comment on this post.  (This is where I cross my fingers that 8 people actually comment, haha, c'mon, don't be such strangers!  84 followers and I max out at like 3 comments??  Lame, girls.  Plus, you'll get the award!  Anyway.)

Storytime.  It won't be very good, I'm rushed.  Sorry.

Once upon a time there was a girl named Posie.  [That's me.]  Somewhere along the line, in her life, she broke herself, and she hasn't figured out to fix it, yet.  She's sad, and there's something wrong with her eyesbrainhead, because although people tell her she's skinny, she has never ever seen it.
She has the most amazing boyfriend in the whole world.  And she finally told him, a little bit, about what's wrong with her.  How crazy she is.  He was wonderful, and supportive, and she still feels terribly guilty about lying to him about "recovery."  But it can't be helped.
She binged the other day.  Badly.  She is a fatfatfatfailure who doesn't deserve her amazing boyfriend.
And so, she lost her mind a little.  And instead of cutting her hips or arms or legs, like usual, she took a pocketknife to her cheek bones.  Hurts so good.
It wasn't bad, or deep.  But enough to notice, enough to bleed.  And when she saw the boyfriend the next day, he took her face in his hands and he said, with enough sadness in his eyesvoice to break Posie's heart, "What did you do to yourself?"  As if he KNEW.  But he can't know.  He can't know about the cutting.  That's not ladylike, or perfect, like starving and being skinny.
She must be perfect for him (herself?).


I currently fluctuate between 97 and 100 pounds.  Gross.

i love you, each and every one.

you are all amazing and strong and beautiful.

love, me.