gefieder

"feathers" in german. i am engaged to a baker.

jumanjiwasunderrated:

pleatedjeans:

via

Accurate

2353 ♥ / May 14, 2012

10394 ♥ / May 14, 2012

4398 ♥ / May 13, 2012

16511 ♥ / May 13, 2012

47656 ♥ / May 11, 2012

gpoy.

861 ♥ / May 7, 2012

40926 ♥ / April 6, 2012

2011nesting with william

0 ♥ / April 5, 2012

52396 ♥ / April 3, 2012

april 16, 2008 i was raped.eight days before my dad’s birthday.april 16, 2008 was the day everything good was taken from me.it was the day i learned that sex can be manipulative, and it was the day i learned that sex didn’t mean love. having only been with one person up until that point, i couldn’t comprehend that. i could not comprehend sex as violent. it took weeks.when i was 18, i could do anything. my worst fear was mediocrity. i was accepted into one of the best journalism programs in the country. i wanted everything. i was fearless, and i could do anything. it was my excitement that made me vulnerable.i wish i was high. i wish i drunk. i wish i was drugged.it’s all a solid, sober memory.
everything since then has been intense and dark. years of bulimia eventually jeopardized my life. i still suffer the consequences of it. i became heavily involved in drugs and developed a lot of hostile, abusive relationships — and i hurt innocent people in the process. i did a lot of awful things to get what i needed to feel nothing. i have images in my mind i wish i could erase but will never go away. sometimes i wonder how i am still alive — or why, because there will always be april 16th.it’s hard for me to relate to anything else. i feel like my conscious is constantly sleeping; i feel like i shut off at some point. i used to write and paint and i’ve been published. i was proud of myself. in four years, i’ve let myself wither on the inside. there are things i can’t explain to anyone because you can’t explain the pictures in your head. you can’t explain how your heart felt at certain moments or justify a lack of passion. all the things i feel are felt with words that don’t exist. it’s lonely, but a certain kind of lonely. it’s like being the only one awake at the middle of the night in summer camp. it’s like driving alone in the car after dropping someone off at the airport. it’s the kind of lonely where there’s nothing you can say, and there’s nothing anyone can say to you. it’s mute.i am so angry because i was stolen from. my drive, my success, my goals, my innocence were all stolen. there are still a lot of things i want to accomplish, but i am handicapped now. at almost 23 years old, i feel like i have to start over.then, my worst fear was mediocrity. now, my worst fear is sleep.i’d do anything to never see you again.

2 ♥ / April 3, 2012

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