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eve . girl . 18



there's a girl in the pool outside

caught in a net of hair and shells of past lives

she came with the tide, her

fingers and skin coated in crystals

will you hold back her hair

recovery blog



do u believe in god
by Anonymous

I believe in perception. There is no such thing as coincidence, nor fate, only chaos that we perceive as something greater. I believe in perception because it serves all our purposes. I believe above all in chance, and the randomness of the universe. We are all so insignificant and yet vastly unique, we are a series of chance upon chance. 

I’ve recently begun practising Wicca. I’ve been interested in it for a long time (yes initially sparked from watching Charmed when I was seven) and building up a library of books. Part of me will always be linked to Christianity, but I feel as though it abandoned me at the lowest point of my depression. It condemned my attempts at suicide, and claimed me a gluttonous sinner. Wicca has allowed me to bond back with my body. I will do no harm to others, but that also includes myself. I will always believe in a higher being, because I can’t comprehend the vastness of our world and how such infinitesimal detail was ever created. They say the devil is in the details, but I believe the Gods are in there too. 

When practising it, I don’t believe I could ever conjure up an influence on someone else, but I like to take it as a way of organising my mind. It gives me peace, lets me look deeper into my self. It helps me brush away my demons. There’s so much to it as well, the influence of herbalism and the psychology of colours. People say sun signs are a load of crap, but in actually there’s a brilliant thinking about it. It recognises the trends of birth. A child born in winter is far different to a child born in spring, influenced by school years, holidays, and even the weather. I believe in this earth and it’s influence on us. I believe in ritually cleaning myself and taking heed of what is around me; those greater forces at work. 

I believe in chance and with that I believe that I can sooth and alter my own perceptions. 

Not only is it my birthday next wednesday but I’ve also just watched five series of the X Files in two weeks.

Is it okay that I just drank a whole bowl of unfrozen frozen yogurt
And yes, I now have a yogurt beard

I need to get out of bed and put on underwear but I don’t think I’m emotionally ready yet

I have have now watched 8 consecutive episodes of X files and my tummy really hurts but I’m in the perfect duvet postion so I can’t move so I keep on putting bubble gum in my mouth and now it’s up to five pieces, my jaw can’t sustain this amount of chewing someone call help 

oh god mulder’s wearing red speedos 

sweet jesus have mercy

I thought I was doing so well

But I just can’t stand my body again

I know I’ve gained weight, I’m sure that I’ve hit my second goal weight

But I just don’t know

Like I’m sure I’ve gained weight and I don’t like it, because now I’m bigger than everyone but then I remember that my eyes aren’t the best and my brain is always wrong and dysmorphic. Or does everyone else just see how heavy I am and I’m just being stupid and ignorant and telling myself I’m seeing things wrong when actually the fat I’m seeing is all too true

It just goes round and round in my head. And sometimes I’m like yeah, fuck it Eve, you need enough weight to drown, and then other times I spend hours contorting my body in weird probably badformyspine yoga poses and telling myself that’s exercise

I just want to know what’s right

I was so proud of myself. I make all of my food, I don’t weigh it, I don’t separate it, I don’t time it and I don’t only eat ‘clean but actually cardboard’ foods. 

And then the doctor wants more tests on my liver and kidneys and bones and brain and blood. And I’m moving out and I don’t know how to explain to the girls I’m going to be living with that I’m a crazypyschoexorsist child who botches every thing good up. I really like them and I think for once they really like me too, without being pitying. 

Actually putting it in words just shows what a whiney bitch I am. Goodness sakes Eve pull yourself together, stop being selfish, you have control over your actions, be a fucking nice human being and not a stupid, limpbiscuit anorexic shit pile 

I’m going to go watch x files and eat my bodyweight in custard because that is now all I eat

I’m a custurd for custard

that makes no sense

My mum told me this morning that she’d once thought, considered, planned to kill me.
Kill us both.
We were on the way back from the priory and she’d wanted to drive us both into a tree.
I just told her smothering me would have been easier and she said I know.

This year will be one of rediscovery. I’m going find my mind once again.
It shocks me that I’m even here. This time last year my resolution was to be dead by eighteen. I prayed that I would be struck down in the street. I signed up to become an organ donor and wrote letters upon letters of grievances and apologies.
And yet now I feel as though every cell in my body has been replaced. I have shed the skin of my frail childhood and am finally accepting being a woman.
I no longer cut, burn, bite, scratch, gouge or wilfully torture myself.
I no longer horde pills and the thought of ending my life is a distant one.
I no longer exercise, soberly purge, or restrict in any context.
I do not drink or take drugs as a form of self harm, and have learnt what moderation is.
I do not weigh, separate, time or count my meals. I ask my little tummy if it wants food and trust that my body will look after me.
I do not body check, weigh myself or even consider my shape.
I do not hate myself.
For some strange reason I make others happy, and I want to peruse that.
Our lives are precious. It is inconceivable to me now the thought of abusing what is such a privilege.
My resolution this year is very simply stay alive and for another year never harm myself by my own hand.
I have a life. I eat what is there. I am able to taste this world once again. It was there all along and yet I continued to deny it even existed. I am happy to have flesh. I like my legs for they are carrying me forwards. They are not painful, they are not paralysed. They are legs and that is that.
Recovery is lovely, happiness is a state of mind, and being brave far outweighs being a putrid, selfish, emaciated corpse.
I have battled with the devil, before I thought I needed to pierce the flesh to kill it but I never realised I could turn away from the fight.
Seven years at war with my mind.
My soul is finally renewing.
I am at peace with myself.
At last.

Goodbye and Goodnight

I think I need to drift away.
I’ll never delete this blog, for it’s a tattoo of sorts, a testament of how far I’ve come.
The thing is, I want to leave my disordered eating behind, but I feel as though a lot of people on this site don’t. The amount of people who follow me with ‘thin’ or ‘bones’ on their name sickens me. My username is still ‘bone-bruise’ and yet I can’t seem to shake it.
The fact is, eating just an apple is destruction, but all this ‘clean eating’ and health foods and exercising, that’s a destruction of another kind. You say you’re recovering and yet you all still weigh out your foods and separate your meals.
I want the body of a Waterhouse painting and the mentality to fit.
I want to taste and feel and see and smell. I want to be alive in all senses of the word.
I used to consume books, love every word until finally I began to actually eat the pages. I want to return to the start.
I’ll still be contactable to you all, I am a girl of one face but many names:
dulcine.tumblr.com
palecopper.tumblr.com
formspring.me/everei
earche2.314@lgflmail.net

I want to survive, I just can’t do it here.

Oh god

my ‘cats’ folder has 2,352 photos in it 

I started it last month

ahaha I’ve just spent the day throwing up my digestive system and bits of chewing gum

because of food poisoning or some other shit 

how bloody ironic

10 reasons october is a cunt

A girl on my foundation course slit open her wrist and sprayed the class with blood. 

The next day a man got hit by a motorbike in front of said class. 

A guy was stabbed at Oceana ten minutes after I left. 

My alcohol tolerance has gone up. Ten shots gets me barely dizzy. 

Sybil died. 

Last night I was groped.

Then my phone was stolen. 

Now I can’t take pictures of my cats. 

And a fucking hurricane is heading towards my sister. 

oh and I had a dream my brother was hit by a car and I watched as his head was ripped off. 

Thank you for all the messages people sent me when I was feeling vulnerable the other night.
The last time I intentionally cut myself was September 14th. That’s over a month ago and I’m feeling the urges of the addiction slowly diminishing.
I also resisted a binge last night, so my last alcohol binge will be a week ago. So good so far.
I hope you all forgive me for not answering but I want to keep all your lovely words close at hand in my inbox.

I woke up to find that I’d made a twitter account whilst high. ‘Dearteeth’ is a string of incoherent warblings. At least now I’ve found a way to control my intoxicated texting.

A lonely artic fox is stomping around until he meets an unexpected friend, Mr Polar Bear.

I’m on my animation week of rotations and this is what I’ve made so far. I still need to edit the colours and frame/second speeds as well as finish it. 500 stills and counting! 

(Source: bone-bruise)