do you ever feel

like there are people out there whose sole purpose is to bring you the utmost misery at your utmost lowest point? That no matter what progress you’re making, they’re always one step behind, reminding you of how insignificant and backwards you are?

…yeah. I seem to have a plethora of those hanging around. 

The Call (of the Wind)

When I was a little girl, I read the unabridged version of Jack London’s The Call of the Wild. I absolutely loved that book. In fact, I loved it so much that I composed my first piano score and entitled it “The Call of the Wind.” Years later, my first published poem that appeared in an anthology was entitled “The Call.” Each focus on the pastoral and sublime. Today, I reread London’s “White Fang” in a single sitting while taking intermittent breaks as I finished a few loads of laundry. And here I am, once again feeling breathless after having such an incredible journey via literature. I wish I could’ve found that passion still still doing my undergraduate studies, haha…but that’s how I’ve always operated: I hate reading deadlines big time. Totally kills the experience of the book for me. Which is why one of my goals this summer is to reread some of the novels I studied last semester. Maybe I’ll change my opinion (though I don’t think anything will make me interested in detective literature, haha). 

But anyways, today was a decent day. The pain levels were really high. I got up to 1600mg of pain killers…and the pain is still very present in my mind. It is such a discouraging condition. I feel weak with fatigue since I’ve been able to consume ~350 cal/day since this started happening. I am hungry! But all I can do is just grin and bear it until August. I just wish the next two months would go by quickly. I’m currently a flat 100lbs … I can’t imagine what the fatigue will start feeling like once I get back down to 95lbs. 

Let’s see. What else did I want to chat about? 

Hm.

Ah. Went on a modeling gig the other day. It. Was. Horrible. For the second time EVER, I walked off set. Just…awful. 

Anyways. Until next time.

It is not in the way of the Wild to like movement. Life is an offence to it, for life is movement; and the Wild aims always to destroy movement.

If you have ever taken a razor blade to that beautiful body of yours, skipped one or more meals, cried yourself to sleep because you never thought you were good enough, attempted any sort of self harm, had thoughts of taking your own life, or actually tried it, HONESTLY reblog this.

Rumi, “Silkworms”

sharingpoetry:

The hurt you embrace becomes joy.
Call it to your arms where it can

change. A silkworm eating leaves
makes a cocoon. Each of us weaves
a chamber of leaves and sticks.
Silkworms begin to truly exist

as they disappear inside that room.
Without legs, we fly. When I stop

speaking, this poem will close,
and open its silent wings.

(submitted by jtlovelady)