Bulimia isn’t a tragic young girl with her head hung over a toilet looking beautiful. It’s a puffed, miserable face with vomit dripping from the chin and a nose bleed.
Anorexia isn’t a slim figure shyly refusing a cupcake. It’s getting Hair across your malnourished and freezing body.
Depression isn’t a model with mascara stains on her face looking into the sunset. It’s staring at the ceiling at 4am with burning eyes because you’re so damn tired. It’s being afraid of the night in case you don’t make it til morning.
Hearing voices isn’t always soothing and reassuring. Sometimes it’s frightening, scary and overwhelming.
Self-harm isn’t people kissing your scars telling you you’re still beautiful. It’s nasty fucking scars that’ll be there forever serving as a constant reminder and stinging in the shower.
Panic attacks aren’t burying your head into your partner’s chest and they’re telling you it’ll be ok. It’s feeling out of control and like oxygen is being stolen from you.
Mental illnesses are not beautiful and they don’t make you special. They don’t make people suddenly care about you. They’re monsters that take and destroy lives. Stop romanticising mental illness!
Supporting the fighters, admiring the survivors, honouring the taken and never, ever giving up hope 💖
The Warrior Within 