Fake smile. Fucking fake smile.

Hello, this is my anon tumblr, I'm from Argentina and I'm 17.
I think this is the most part of my head, my life and feelings that I keep. I don't promote eating disorders or self harm, but I share this things.
So, if you want talk to me I'm online almost all day.

If you don't like what you see, please go out of my blog.
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astridoneko:

Ñom ñom ñom :)

astridoneko:

Ñom ñom ñom :)

boys-and-suicide:

I don’t even know what normal eating is.

skaterboyskaterboy:

This is heartbreaking. As a person who has suffered and still is suffering from depression I can surely say it made me stop and watch this for such a long time. Why should anyone feel sorry for “having” depression? You don’t have depression first of all. Depression “has” you in some kinda weird way. And it’s never your fault. Never and in no fucking way. Don’t be sorry. Don’t let anyone make you apologize for feeling this way. Nobody wants depression. Nobody needs it. Nobody. With no exception. Don’t ever ever apologize.

This is upsetting.

scntrx:

❍ I’m here if you need someone ❍

                

Querido amigo tambler, si piensas subir una foto de una hermosa frase de un libro, te pido de favor que tomes la molestia de poner el nombre del libro. ACÁ HAY PERSONAS QUE SE MUEREN POR SABER EL NOMBRE DEL PUTO LIBRO DONDE VIENE ESA PUTA HERMOSA FRASE *-*

Rebloghace 2 semanas with 287 notas

Volví a comenzar con todo, y esta vez solo ustedes son mis testigos. 

Rebloghace 2 semanas with 3 notas

jump-back-juniper:

tellmethatyouneed-me:

werelivinganightmare:

vanillafaces:

The story behind it (again): This is a picture of my arm and my sister’s. She’s the one with the tattoo I’m the one with the scars. I’ve been in a mental hospital for over a year because of selfharm, suicidal thoughts & a depression. Me and my sister always had a really close band. We only had each other but everything changed when I was hospitalised; she was alone and she couldn’t cope with the fact that I was unhappy. She kept blaming herself and tried everything to make me better. She always had to cry when I needed to go back to the hospital. She cried while calling ambulances for me and when she saw my not responding on the bathroom floor. But things got better, because of the hospital but because of her too. I had a reason to live, to exist. I realised I needed to get better because of her. She always told me it was me & her against the world. And believe me we were and we still are. So when I got better I still had all those marks on my arm, it made me sad ofcourse it reminded me of my lows and my demons. My sister saw how it affected my recovery and without I knew any of it she tattooed my birthday on her wrist. I kept asking her why why why. Her answer: ‘You don’t have your own arms anymore so you can have mine’ This picture shows how she pulls me up every time.

oh my god. this is beautiful

‘You don’t have your own arms anymore so you can have mine’

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“Soy muy cerrada, tengo la manía de guardarme todo para mí. Me cuesta mucho compartir mis problemas con alguien. Prefiero callármelo y sufrir en silencio y esperar a que todo se solucione o por lo menos, que el dolor disminuya.”

(via miedoalodesconocido)

Rebloghace 2 semanas with 327 notas