Health and Wellness Failures Stories

I literally just want to like starve myself and throw up whatever I eat and then starve myself some more if only I could just be skinny. please someone tell me how to induce vomiting, tell me how to not be hungry anymore. God I'm so fat. fucking kill me if I cant be skinny.

Hey guys, I'm a 14 y/o girl, and uh, as the title says, I have acne. And to those who have it or have had it, please read this.

I'm no confident kid, I'm the opposite. Apparently, acne never goes away! I've heard people say "They tell you it goes away at 18, but it's still there!" I'll get them forever unless I take Accutane. I may apply Niacinamide, but even then, it's gonna come back, it has come back. Accutane is long-term. But yeah, I can picture Caesar laughing at him even more if Joseph had braces. And my Niacinamide isn't working, and I really gotta stop snacking I may drink 1 cup of warm milk mixed with chocolate powder (I mix in 2 spoons), 2 biscuits, 2 Prosciutto and 2 dates, but it's gluttony and bad for skin! Why do I even put 2!? I've got a blood test positive for dust and cat danger allergy, but what if dietary choices where I snack every 6pm affect me negatively? Your skin is the largest organ after all. ACNE. Apparently sugar causes acne, and look at the sugar in my snack. Who even eats what I eat as a snack? Big-back material, I tell you. Not even niacinamide is working for me. I thought it was a big acne remover. The worst part is, acne never goes away unless you take Accutane or oral meds. It's what YouTubers say.

The worst part is, I have eczema and acne. How do I fix myself with 2 bad diseases? One shows I'm dry as a desert, the other proves I'm oily enough to fry an egg with it replaces olive oil. Acne is bad. Acne destroys confidence. Acne ruins lives. Acne makes me ugly. Acne makes everyone ugly. Everyone I know has clear skin, in my class, most people are clear-skinned. Look at them! My dad has scars because he accidentally shaved them off as a teen, and yet somehow he's fine. Eczema means my immune system is bad, and that if it dares over-panic once for something, it could be dangerous. I already have new dust and cat dander allergy for 2 years now, so I'm gonna get asthma like my grandma. I mean, I see Whispers of people saying how much they hate it. Plus, YouTube videos say that acne never goes away. One dude tried all topical stuff, and it didn't work. He still has them at 19! I'll never be safe! That Accutane's starting to look real good, and Dupixent, too. My acne may be pustular, and whiteheads but it could get worse. And my eczema may be itchy only, and doesn't make me have difficulty sleeping or focusing, but it could get worse. Then what's the point? My current serums aren't working. My eczema only cleared due to Niacinamide! That's the wrong thing I wanted to fix!

I don't fit anywhere. It won't reduce. That's impossible. There's no way it'll reduce. It'll come back, maybe worse. Nobody's perfect. The body problems will come back. And because nothing's perfect, why even try? It'll always get worse. I must utilize the time, that is less, to be pretty and loved. Plus, imagine me next to a friend who most likely won't have it. Like, who has the atopic dermatitis eczema? Amanda Seyfried only has perioral eczema, it only comes on her mouth. Mine is all over! Biologics barely have side-effects. Even babies get it. It's just a stupid needle in my stomach to cure my fundamental body flaw! I've had it since 3, but still. It counts. The only cure is biologics, which for some reason, my parents won't let me get a plan on. I got a blood test and my main allergies were dust and cat dander, which for cats I managed to not touch and dust I avoided most spots. Doesn't Accutane and Biologics fix everything? Isn't eczema a bad thing, anyways? It's a chronic disease. It means I have health issues. I'm not healthy. Again, acne is bad. It means there's an underlying health issue. If a woman has cystic ones, especially paired with facial hair and painful periods or no periods without birth control, it's PCOS. I may not have PCOS, I show no such symptoms, but still, at this age, it counts as an issue. A health issue. Acne means lack of health.

Can Accutane be the cure? It seems to be the most popular option. Can acne persist into adulthood anyways? It's what every video says on YouTube. All the Pinterest Whispers girls are right, they also hate their noses, they also want clean skin, and they also think when they become 18 they'll get a nose job. I got my mom's straight long nose bridge, and not the cool inward button nose. Even girls on there say the "clean diet" of shrimp, rice and asparagus. What if my foods cooked by my mom and maid aren't clean? What if my sugary snack for every evening ritual is causing me acne!? I should cut it out! You don't eat unhealthy foods! And acne is bad because it's ugly, it ruins self-esteem and according to Google, "it can be highly harmful to emotional well-being and, if severe or untreated, cause permanent physical scars. It frequently causes low self-esteem, anxiety, depression, and significant emotional distress. Physically, it can lead to pain, itching, or, in severe cases, permanent atrophic (indented) or hypertrophic (raised) scarring." I'm not cute, I'm ugly. Those who say it's cute are either delusional, never had it before or have some sort of ugly fetish. F--k off!

Seriously? What did I do wrong? Why aren't I getting Accutane or Dupixent, yet? They're the miracle cure!

i got 1A and 4Bs in my IGCSE exam. at the time i was 12 (16 is the normal age), dropped out of school into a completely new system (caie) and gave the exams in 6 months without tuition or school. it was a really big jump, i was lonely and dumb, i’ll give myself some leeway there. i admit i studied lazily in the first half (3 exams), but in the second half(2 exams after 3 months) i really tried HARD. i really did, i swear. i mean i wasn’t the best in my previous school, but i still ALWAYS got 2nd or 3rd place which had to be something, right? even if i still wasn’t good enough for 1st, i was still good. but now, i’m just… bad. my siblings always got 1st place in school and got all A* in IGCSE (one of them was even 14-15 at the time). money was tight, so my parents and i thought i could be able to do it too. spoiler alert, i just disappointed them. i mean, i could retake but i doubt I’d even get better results and i just dont want to go through that shit again. i tried my hardest, i really did. i wish i could turn back time and fix everything. i can’t look anyone in the face anymore, or even myself. i’m such a fucking pathetic retarded dumb stupid ugly fat pig friendless loser who couldn’t do the one thing her family expected of her. if news does get out to my other relatives, i dont even know what i’d do. worst, my parents were nice about it and comforted me. i know they are lying, and they don’t even hide it, when another person has similar results to mine, they call him stupid. i dont how to live with these grades anymore. i cant even bring myself to study for A levels, all ive been doing is bedrotting for 4 months. today i was asked by my brother, “what did you get A* in?” and then i was reminded im such a fucking loser. i wanted to get in a uni with a scholarship, but now thats completely out of the question and i doubt id even get in a good uni even if i got straight A* in A levels. I’m good at nothing, this was the only thing i could atleast say smth about but now its been taken away from me. i was a coward because my religion doesnt allow me to kill myself, but honestly, i would rather live in fucking burning hell than wake up everyday in this fucking body.

I remembered a while back in the beginning of sophomore year, before I spiraled out of control into depression, self-harm, and seeking validation from old men online. I talked to my friend about my attraction to our school vice principal. I was a bit crude so it sounded like a joke. But my question was “why am i attracted to him when i know that if he ever showed any real interest towards me, id be terrified? call the police, if not, cry.”

I had made this observation and i was confused about my feelings. I now know its because i was hypersexual from past trauma, making me feel that way. But then i didnt know hypersexual was a thing that existed.

It was played off as a joke. He said something like “dude i thought you were about to tell me you were gonna kys or something and you go and say some stupid shit like this.”

I laughed it off as a joke too, but i feel like that was the start of my slow descent into mental illness. I was identifying it early and had it been taken seriously, i feel i could’ve avoided all the problems it brought with it.

I keep rehearsing the line in my head, like it is a script, but my mouth stays closed when I sit on her couch. I am very polite. I say “yes ma’am” and “thank you.” I talk about sleep hygiene and stressors and coping skills, like I am trying to sound clinical for the session notes. The real sentence is that I have suicidal thoughts. No plan. No date. Just the thoughts, like pop ups, and it scares me. I do not say it because I picture her switching from calm therapist mode to risk assessment mode, and then confidentiality turns into a rule book. She knows my parents. They pay. My brain keeps yelling she will call them and say I am unsafe. I know there is duty to protect, imminent risk, mandated reporting, all that stuff, but it feels like a trap door under the carpet. I imagine a cascade: she documents it, asks about means, does a lethality screen, makes a safety plan, asks for consent to involve family, and if I freeze she escalates to crisis protocol. Then my mom crying, my dad going quiet, and me getting treated like a problem to be managed. I keep thinking, what if I say it wrong, what if “I don’t want to be here” sounds like “I will do it tonight.” What if I get sent to a hospital because I used the wrong words. I try to stay objective, like I am reporting symptoms, but my hands sweat and I talk about homework instead. Do you also do that thing where you translate your pain into acceptable bullet points so nobody panics;

Last session she asked what I am avoiding, very gently, and I gave the most boring answer possible. Later at home I tried to be logical. Therapists do not want drama, they want risk management and client stability, and they usually follow a decision tree. If there is no plan, no intent, and you can agree to a safety plan, the standard of care is often outpatient. That is what I repeat to myself because it helps. I can picture a version where I say, “I have suicidal ideation, passive and recurring,” and she nods like it is a normal data point. She might do a brief suicide risk formulation, ask about protective factors, and build a coping toolbox with me. She might suggest a psychiatric consult. She might ask me to reduce access to anything risky, and ask if I have one trusted adult, and that part could be my choice. If someone is in immediate danger, calling local emergency services is the right move. I still fear the parent phone call, yes, but I also notice hiding it is its own risk. When I keep it secret, the thoughts get louder, like they win by default. Also, I do want a future, even if it is small, like just finishing a week and eating breakfast. When I imagine saying it out loud, it feels like turning a light on in a messy room. Not clean, just visible. And visibility is kind of the first intervention. I am not saying it becomes easy. I am saying it can become more manageable, and a treatment plan is a real thing, not a moral failing. Next time I think I will ask her, politely, what her confidentiality limits are with parents, in plain words, before I disclose details. If you were in my chair, would you rather keep guessing, or would you rather know the protocol and build a plan that keeps you here for the next day, and the next?

lately after valentines day, a month after my bf broke up with me, i've been feeling more suicidal. i already relapsed on cutting myself 2 times. just 2. i used to be addicted to cutting myself. that burning sensation i get on my skin, that feeling of satisfaction of im getting what i deserve, or that weird feeling of comfort i get out of cutting myself. its like a sick twisted way of me re-assuring everything is real. Whether i like it or not. For context of my breakup, i helped my friend with his past relationship, whre his ex cheated on him. i started to like, i confessed. we agreed to date, then he broke up with me 3 days later cause hes scared and lost feelings for me already. he also said he only agreed to date me bc he thought i would be depressed if irejected him but to be honest, him breaking up with me and getting my hopes up like that got me more depressed. i would have been ok with rejection. its fine. but him getting my hopes up like that? it hurts more than anything. i kinda hate myself for being stupid enough to confess. hes also still not over his toxic ex. it hurts. alot. it makes me wanna cry so bad.

TW: talk of suicide and sh

I have felt suicidal since I was 7 years old, im now nearly 15 and am just done, ppl keep telling me to kms and its getting to my head .

Tw grooming and suicide

I (15 almost 16) am in a perpetual self imposed hell. my abuser (20 almost 21) showed back up after months of completely abandoning me and you know, I thought that would make me feel better because wow. They kept their promise, they didn’t lie and leave me with this gaping hole in my chest. not really. The months they left were hell, my intrusive thoughts about being groomed quite literally crippled me to the point I commit suicide, got landed in the psychward for a while, and could not return to a normal headspace. I don’t know if i can say it’s worse but it’s not better, well that’s a lie. It’s better in the sense that I feel more normal to know they’re around, suddenly overwhelming intensity of the intrusive thoughts are gone. There’s the illusion that im okay. But now im even more dependent on them than before, while they were away I decided if I got a second chance I would do or give anything to keep them, to the point I’d ditch all my friends and family if they decided they actually loved me again. Currently, as further proof of how serious I am im cheating on my partner (15) for them, and I know I should give my all to someone who actually cares about me, I truly don’t deserve my partner but it feels fundamentally wrong to date anyone who isn’t hurting me. Maybe im just not meant for it. I’m planning to break up with my partner soon because I don’t want to betray them further while parasitically zapping all of their goodwill, but I can’t tell what the right way to do it is. I’m selfishly holding on.

It hurts me so much that I let you do all that shit to me and yet i still feel so disposable to you . Maybe thats how I’ll make my partner feel if they find out about all this shit, and then I’ll really be like my abuser. Am I not doing enough? I try to be interesting and suck up to your every whim, im different than when you left me. im entirely devoted to you, I try to give you space even though it feels like death. Maybe I should be more grateful you’re giving me the time of day at all. Be that 1-3 messages on average. Since we’re both a mistake of human beings this should suffice. Still, everytime you’re cold or short with me I feel so worthless I could genuinely die, I want to. I know you’re tired, I know you’re depressed and can’t talk much but everytime you take hours to respond to me at all I feel like falling deeper into this shitty cycle of shitty people and I know damn well there’s no way I can live a normal life again after this, and I can’t help but doubt the fact that you love me at all. If you leave me I know I’ll have to kill myself, cuz then there’ll be nothing else left to stop my intrusive thoughts from torturing me. I’m so disgustingly miserable it’s insane.

Getting the news that I had cancer felt like a punch in the gut. When the oncologist said those words, it was as if the world paused, and all I could hear was the incessant ringing in my ears. It's funny how moments like that can be so isolating, yet so communal at the same time.🎗️ Everyone knows someone who's battled this beast, yet it's always different when it's you. That feeling of being adrift in a sea of medical jargon—metastasis, chemotherapy, targeted therapy—it's overwhelming. But damn, I never pictured myself in this fight, not at this point in life. But here I am, and I guess the only way is forward; I've got to keep swinging.

Cancer treatment is a whirlwind. One moment you're being scanned head-to-toe, the tech using words like "tumor markers" and "biopsy results," and the next, you're sitting in a too-bright room with fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, getting a rundown of your treatment plan. It's like they're plotting a military operation in your own body. They, of course, mean the well-meaning medical team—the oncologists, nurses, and specialists who keep telling me I need to stay strong. Sometimes, I think to myself, "Am I supposed to be grateful or terrified?" Because right now, I'm exhausted from these pep talks and motivational quotes. Doctors might have all the knowledge in the world, but they don't know what it feels like to sit on the other side of that desk, huh?

Yeah, I get it. Positivity is the mantra. But there are days when I freaking want to scream. I want to tell someone to take their platitudes and shove them. It's not easy managing the side effects of chemo—those surprise bouts of nausea that hit like a wave, the fatigue that feels like a weight is dragging me down. It's like my body is betraying me while we're supposed to be on the same team. Every day, I pop pills with names longer than a CVS receipt, timing them between sparse meals because my appetite is like a see-saw. And let's not forget the ongoing battle with insurance—pre-authorizations and phone calls that feel like a test of endurance.

Still, I've met warriors on this path who are nothing short of inspiring. There's Jane, who lost her hair but came to every session with a smile that could light up a room. She once told me, "This is just a detour, not the end of the road." Then there's Mark, who's in remission, and he swears by his mantra, "Hope is a weapon." These interactions are grounding—they remind me that I'm not alone, even if my journey is uniquely mine. The community is a powerful thing, and sometimes a simple “how are you feeling today?” can mean more than all the medical advice combined. Have you ever experienced that magic of connection that turns strangers into comrades?

In all this chaos, there's a weird, subdued calm that settles in knowing you're doing all you can. Despite the odds and the stats that doctors rattle off, I tell myself to keep fighting; it's both a command and a plea. If life is a series of battles, this is just another one, albeit a brutal one. But it surfaces a profound question—why fight at all? Do we fight to win or out of a sheer refusal to give in? So, while I may have days when every step feels heavy, I'll endure. Not just because I'm told it's the right thing to do, but because it’s who I am—a fighter, a survivor, maybe even a champion someday. So, to anyone else staring down this path, let's keep swinging, together...

so, here's the thing: i'm 31, living what many might consider an enviable life. i have a pretty sweet gig as a project manager at a reputable firm, the kind of job that keeps me moving, challenges my brain, and supports a lifestyle that others might dream of. but here's the kicker – despite all the successes that are supposed to fill my heart with contentment and joy, i can't help but feel like life has lost its sparkle. you know how people toss around "all work and no play makes jack a dull boy"? well, it turns out being the work-focused jack (or jill, in my case) isn't particularly fulfilling when you're coming home to an empty apartment every night. 😕

am i doing something wrong here? i mean, i spent my twenties hustling to build this career, thinking i'd eventually slide into the whole husband and kids scene like it was a given. except... i just haven't found that particular groove. how do people have it all? a fulfilling job, a loving partner who gets them, sunny mornings filled with laughter and weekend adventures with friends who feel like family. some evenings i curl up with a cup of tea, staring out the window at the bustling city below, feeling like i'm watching life happen rather than actually living it. is this some phase i'll grow out of, or is there something i'm fundamentally missing?

maybe i'm being overly dramatic here, but i've seen those aspirational quotes floating around the internet, like "life is not about waiting for the storm to pass but learning to dance in the rain." these thoughts swirl in my head while i ponder whether i'm just a part of the human race's rat race, unable to break free from the seemingly endless cycle of work, eat, sleep, repeat. i'm wrestling with the concept of how all these accomplishments seem purposeless without personal connections that truly matter. and then there's the matter of friendships—or the lack thereof. ever noticed how adult friendships are this fragile dance of juggling schedules and priorities? makes me wonder how others cement those lifelong bonds without sacrificing their aspirations.

i remind myself there's always a sliver of hope, though. i mean, life's got to be more than this, right? maybe it's time to invest some energy into meeting new people, forging authentic connections, and reminding myself that embracing change is part of the journey. perhaps the lesson here is about resilience, about finding that balance between professional success and personal satisfaction. i'm not giving up. far from it. is there a magical formula to balance career and personal life? perhaps i need to remind myself, as c.s. lewis said, "you are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream." and who knows? maybe the best is yet to come. here's hoping for a future filled with more than just my career – one that radiates with warmth and genuine human connection.

Yo! So, I'm 22 and my friend hits me up with this whole "30 day self care challenge" thing. She's like, "Girl, you gotta try this! It's life-changing!" 🙄 And I'm just sitting here thinking, really? Is it all that?? Has anyone else dared to try this? I'm genuinely curious, peeps! Like, do these challenges even work, or is it just another overhyped trend? I mean, sure, taking care of yourself is important, but is doing it for 30 days straight gonna magically change everything? 🤔 Anyone care to share their experiences? Did it help in making life less of a mess? Any tips or hacks from those who've survived it, please??? 😅

You know, I'm kinda hoping this isn’t just an Instagram-worthy illusion. If you’ve done it, what was the best part? Is it more than just bubble baths and face masks? Don't get me wrong, those are awesome, but surely there's more to self-care? 🤷‍♀️ Help a girl out!!! Would love some lowdown on stuff that doesn't just pad calendars but actually works! Like, what do you do when the motivation is in the gutter? Any specific "must try" days? Spill the tea, fam!!! ✨ Looking for those nuggets of hope and positivity. Because, hey, life's too short to play a guessing game with self-care. Am I just overthinking it, or is there something more profound here? Hit me up with all the good stuff – quotes, routines, wisdom – whatever!! Who else is ready to slay and take some quality 'me time' seriously? Let’s make our lives better together, yeah?? 💪❤️

Hey guys! So, here's the thing—I have a friend who's been dealing with some mental health stuff and I really want to understand what they're going through better; you know?? Like, I don't want to be that clueless friend who's just nodding and pretending to get it when I don't really have a freaking clue... So, I thought maybe watching some movies or shows about mental health issues might give me a better perspective, but I'm not sure where to start??? I've been scrolling through Netflix, trying to find something that's not only accurate but also doesn't glamorize mental illness in a way that totally misses the point, you know??? It's tough finding content that doesn't make it all look like it's either totally depressing or somehow romanticizes things that are actually really serious and need to be approached with sensitivity... I heard there are some movies and series that tackle these themes really well—something that's relatable and real but doesn't go overboard with the dramatics!!! Any recommendations??? Have you guys watched anything recently that you think could help me see things from a perspective that's closer to what my friend might be experiencing??? I'm not looking for something that's a downer or super heavy all the time; just something that's respectful and insightful, if you catch my drift... Like, maybe something that balances the gritty reality while offering some hope or a meaningful resolution??? It'd be awesome to hear about anything that includes a variety of perspectives too, as I think getting a wider understanding is really essential in this kind of situation!!! Sometimes it's about finding those smaller stories within the bigger picture that really hit home—and who knows, maybe they'll help me find the right words to support my buddy!!! 🤔 So, if any of you know of shows or movies that fit the bill (and are on Netflix, 'cause that's the only streaming service I have right now), drop me a line, would you??? I'm really willing to put in the time and effort to learn; and yeah, I know watching a movie or two isn't gonna make me a mental health expert overnight, but it seems like a good first step, right??? Maybe there are docs, dramas, or even comedies that expose different angles??? I'm open to anything that's honest, even if the truth it shows isn't always easy to digest!!! At the end of the day, it's about being there for my friend and making sure I'm not just token-supporting them with one-dimensional understanding, if you know what I mean... Anyway, thank you in advance for any suggestions or tips you might have—I really appreciate it!!! I'm all ears and ready to binge-watch for a cause that truly matters to me; let's dive into this together, shall we???

If I am being completely honest, the thought of attending therapy gives me a good dose of apprehension. My parents have decided that my problems at school and within our family dynamics warrant a professional third party, and I find myself wondering what that will be like... Can therapy truly provide the answers or guidance I need to navigate the tangled web of teenagerhood? What questions should I bring up to make the most of it? How open should I be? I mean, am I supposed to just spill my guts right there on the first day?

It seems strange to talk to a stranger about the ups and downs of everyday life, especially when emotions are sometimes hard to express even to myself. I hear therapy is supposed to help, but what if it does not? Could it actually complicate things further? Would asking specifically about developing better relationships with my family or friends make the difference? My familial relationships are particularly challenging lately. Will a therapist guide me on how to deal with the lingering resentment, or the often overwhelming expectations placed upon me? How do you even ask for advice on communicating effectively with parents who seem stuck in their old ways? And what about friends? Often, I feel isolated or misunderstood. Is it normal for a therapist to assist with improving social skills or understanding the intricacies of friendships? Could learning new coping strategies and communication techniques actually improve these interactions? Does formulating these specific questions lead to meaningful guidance from the therapist? Moreover, is it okay to question the therapist’s methods if they do not resonate with me? Is there a right or wrong way to approach therapy, or is it supposed to be a fluid conversation? It is the fear of the unknown, I suppose, mixed with an intrinsic skepticism that breeds these questions. What if I do not click with the therapist? Is it acceptable to ask for a different approach or a different therapist altogether? How does one even know if therapy is working? Craving validation seems natural, yet is it feasible to anticipate tangible progress? How can I ensure that I am not wasting this opportunity? I have heard that articulating one’s feelings and personal challenges while seeking suggestions can be beneficial. But how does one do that without feeling contrived or superficial? Would opening up about my fears and aspirations, however mundane they might appear, lead to transformative advice or realizations? Does anything truly significant emerge from these sessions that an honest conversation with a friend cannot provide? Can therapy offer a blueprint to life that I am currently missing? Somehow, I feel as though there is an assumption that teenagers inherently know how to adapt to life's changes. Yet, how realistic is this expectation?

At 17, grappling with the pressures of school, social life, and family, it often feels as though I am walking a tightrope. Do therapists possess insight into the teenage mind that parents lack? If so, how soon does one expect to notice improvements in understanding and management of these various pressures? Can I anticipate a newfound self-awareness or perhaps an enhancement in my emotional intelligence guiding me through tricky scenarios? Could asking about practical steps to handle stress and conflict inadvertently lead to improvement in my overall well-being? These questions linger in my mind as I consider the prospect of attending therapy sessions. How forthcoming is one expected to be when seeking answers or support? Am I alone in my apprehension, or do others my age share similar sentiments embarking on the therapeutic journey? It is this reflection that underscores my wonderment, with an unavoidable inclination to question the efficacy and the process, or rather, the possibility that it might just be what I need.

So yeah my college decided to “improve student health” and now they’ve basically declared war on snacks and I swear I am losing my mind over it, like who even asked for this, because last year I could grab cheesy chips and those little chocolate bars between classes and life felt normal but now everything is baked, gluten free, sugar free, taste free, joy free, and I stand in front of the vending machine like it personally betrayed me. They took away the spicy noodles from the campus store and replaced them with plain rice cakes and unsalted nuts and I just stare at the shelf thinking this has to be a joke, because who snacks on dry almonds when you have a 3 hour lecture right after. And don’t even get me started on the cafeteria lady telling me the brownies are now made with beans, like I’m sorry but why are beans in dessert, is this prison. I tried to be open minded, I really did, I bought the “healthy cookie” and it tasted like sweet cardboard and sadness, and I actually miss the greasy pizza slices which is wild because I used to complain about those too. They even put limits on how many snacks you can buy in a day, like we are children or something, and now I just stare at carrots; I never thought I would be this dramatic about food but here we are. Do you guys have this at your college too or is mine just on some weird mission to turn us into fitness models. The worst part is when I’m studying late and my brain is tired and all I want is something crunchy and salty and fun and instead I’ve got air popped whatever that tastes like nothing, and I feel silly for caring but snacks are like tiny pieces of happiness during stressful days, you know? I remember last semester during finals I survived on chips and chocolate and somehow passed everything, and now I’m supposed to survive on trail mix that’s mostly raisins, which I do not trust. But okay, maybe I’m being extra, maybe they think they’re helping us and maybe my body does not actually need neon orange dust on my fingers every day. I started bringing my own stuff from home, like sneaking in the good cookies my mom makes and sharing them with my friends and it actually feels kind of funny and rebellious and cute 🙂 and we laugh about it instead of just being mad. And I guess I’ve been trying new things too, like adding hot sauce to the bland wraps and mixing the boring nuts with chocolate I buy off campus, and it’s not the same but it’s something. I still miss my old snacks, I really do, but maybe I’ll figure out a way to survive this snack apocalypse and come out stronger or at least less hungry, and who knows maybe one day I’ll even like those stupid rice cakes, probably not, but maybe.

in the span of the past 2 days im in the same spot as two weeks ago

and my arms r coverd agian and everything thing is falling apart agian and i was dumb enough to think i was getting better