babygirlblogger

[babygirlblogger]

i don't think anyone who grew up in a different household realises just how difficult it is to live life when you feel stuck and suffocated. to be a helpless teenager living with your parents, a silent father and an angry mother. one who yells and complains about you, your lifestyle, your whole personality and the other one remains silent. a household where work is rewarded. if you put in work, you're rewarded. and even then, it's ignored.

no matter what you do. who you try to be. she will always find something to yell about.

so no, i can't romanticize my life. no, i cant wake up and be grateful. no, I cant have fun because im stuck. and the uncertainty od whether i'll leave or not kills me.

[babygirlblogger]

at this point i don't want to be skinny to love myself, i want to be sickly skinny so people care about me

[babygirlblogger]

I want to lose so much weight that face fucking id doesn’t recognize me anymore

[babygirlblogger]

everything, basically

[babygirlblogger]

i feel like a ghost roaming room to room, hall to hall, listening to conversations that are present without my input, trying to include myself in the laughter and inside jokes. once feeling unseen, i float to another room in hopes of something but nothing. i stand in the corner with wide eyes and heavy heart hoping that someone would acknowledge my silence. ask me about me. but they don't. because i only roam as a ghost and not haunt. because to haunt is to be known. which im not.

[babygirlblogger]

[babygirlblogger]

[babygirlblogger]

to be pale and thin is a dream

[babygirlblogger]

update: he texted me.

my ex messaged me after a whole year of no contact and i had a panic attack.

[babygirlblogger]

update: he deactivated his account, then reactivated it, removed me from his following and deactivated it again.

my ex messaged me after a whole year of no contact and i had a panic attack.

[babygirlblogger]

THIS IS NOT YOUR SIGN!!!

━━━━━━━

why does the idea of being a dead daughter feel so appealing to me? why does being the dead cousin feel so appealing to me? being the girl who struggled silently until she couldn't and left. the girl whose pain was built up by the smallest, hurtful words and actions because she was sensitive and people failed to notice. the girl whose chest and stomach always ached but no one cared to check up on her.

maybe when i'm finally gone that people will regret and ponder upon the things they ignored.

[babygirlblogger]

🆂🆃🅰🆁🆅🅰🆃🅸🅾🅽 ⚰

From the heart of unimaginable suffering, I want to sincerely thank everyone who has supported my family 🙏🏻

Right now, famine is hitting us harder than ever, my heart cries whenever I go to the market to buy any basic necessities! The prices are crazy, and most days my children survive on just bread Hunger and thirst are destroying us, and cooking on fire increases our suffering unbearably! Severe eye and chest sensitivity, in addition to constant stomach pain due to the type of food and the way it is cooked.

All this while we flee from one place to another in fear of bombing, bullets, and imminent danger! I cannot describe what I feel, but it is a feeling beyond exhaustion!

Despite the exhaustion, your support gives us strength and I hope you will not let us down

If you can donate, please do so, or at least help us by sharing, so we can reach those who can

Your kindness truly keeps us going

>> Our campaign is vetted by gazavetters list at Momen & his family

Gaza is full of oppression #The worst is yet to come #Genocide #A resilient people

[babygirlblogger]

I am so desperate to be th1n. I am so desperate to dissappear. It's really the same thing. I have always struggled with my identity, but now when they ask me, "who are you?" I know what to say. I am the heart palpations running through me, the throbbing headaches, the loud growing noise from my stomach, the d1zz1ness that follows every action—even thought. who am I without my illness? I am nobody. My illness comforts me but destroys me. It cradles me. It crushes me. It silences my mind, yet fills it with so much noise. as I grow th1nn3r, the urge to dissappear finds fulfillment—like I am disappearing. as I grow th1nn3r, my identity sharpens its edges. "who am I without my illness?"

[babygirlblogger]

[babygirlblogger]

[babygirlblogger]

[babygirlblogger]