Status Updates From Milk Fed

I knew how she made me feel, which was full of confetti instead of blood.

Do you like Audrey Hepburn?” When I was seventeen, at the apex of my starving, I had a big, vintage poster of Breakfast at Tiffany’s in my bedroom. My goal had been to become as narrow as Audrey, but no matter how little I ate, I could still feel meat on my abdomen, cushion on my thighs. Audrey was practically sculpted from bone. She hadn’t had to starve herself to become a star. “I’m sort of over Audrey”

They say the perfect is the enemy of the good, that if you strive for perfection you will overlook the good. But I did not agree. I didn’t like the good. The good was just mediocre. I wanted to go beyond mediocre. I wanted to be exceptional. I did not want to be medium-size. I wanted to be perfect. And by perfect, I meant less.
acho que esse livro vai dizer qual é minha sexualidade baseado nas minhas irritações

he put his hand on my thigh and I was too hungry and tired to deal with moving it. I ended things a few months later, when I got the energy to move it. / This absence of rejection felt like an embrace.

I wondered, if I could go back and rescue myself from that dressing room, would I do it? I probably wouldn’t. I thought that soft little girl was disgusting too.

wtf is this.