fuck recovery. i choose relapse.
it’s inevitable that i will give up sometime anyway.
and i kind of like relapsing sometimes.
when i was “getting better” i was in this weird state where life felt like a perpetual sort of daze. i was doing everything right. i was being productive and interactive. but it felt as if i had been relying on nothing but pure, primal survival instinct. instead of living, i was surviving. only surviving.
now that i’m relapsing, i’m feeling all these intense emotions again. all of a sudden, life is exhilarating. i know i’m essentially toying with death but that’s exactly why it’s such a thrill. i LIKE people telling me they’re jealous of how skinny i’ve gotten. i like being high all day. i like the feeling that comes with starving yourself for three days straight. i like how skin bleeds. i like how wounds heal. i like hooking up with guys who would have ignored my existence two years ago. i like valium and xanax and seroquel. i like sleeping whenever i fucking feel like it. I like black-out drinking. i like mdma trips. i like and appreciate and understand art and music better in this state.
if all fergie’s dad let her know was “if you ain’t got no money, take your broke ass home” then that’s actually really sad and i’m getting super emotional
You beautiful fucking human.
I love you.