Having An Eating Disorder Is So Fuckign Cringe

Could go for some pleasures of the flesh right now tbh, shoutout to pleasures of the flesh

Various poster designs for films: DAISIES (1966, dir. Věra Chytilová), MAGNOLIA (1999, dir. Paul Thomas Anderson), DERSU UZALA (1975, dir. Akira Kurosawa), GIVE HER THE MOON (1970, dir. Philippe de Broca), GUMMO (1997, dir. Harmony Korine), MEAN STREETS (1973, dir. Martin Scorsese), THE ARISTOCATS (1970, dir. Wolfgang Reitherman) and NORTH BY NORTHWEST (1959, dir. Alfred Hitchcock).

faggot is a beautiful name for a dyke

reminder: romanticizing your mental illness doesn’t make it any less of an illness. there’s nothing cute about suffering. there’s nothing cute about rotting. there’s nothing cute about starving yourself. there’s nothing cute about self destruction. there’s nothing cute about self isolation. it’s not cute. it’s not pretty. it’s not your “girl interrupted” fantasy. voicing your own mental health struggles is a lot different from some of the encouragement and endorsement that i see here on tumblr. i say this as someone who struggles with depression, anxiety, and a former eating disorder. we should be uplifting each other, not promoting serious psychological disorders that have the means to cause serious harm. there’s toxicity in this community, which i want no part of, and it needs to be addressed.

- signed a psychology undergrad

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perfume genius <3!!!

today i must be a recovering passive-aggressive personality. how can people sit on a train and not notice each other? how can people resist the urge to connect somehow? not compulsively, totally without tact or genility but sometimes strangers do recognize each other. of course, i'm talking about young females. not to fuck or to fuck with but maybe just to satisfy curiosity ... or maybe my hormones are still working overtime, just like my beautiful filthy mind, and i seek some very light entertainment. can people feel my eyes on them as i do theirs on me? do we all know that we're here in this social prison system? why aren't we prepared to have more fun being human beings? will women ever outgrow the scars inflicted upon them by a world ruled by men? must my fantasies be stuck working overtime? living in the abstract is a cancer and a hell, my love, and the leveling of a heated daydream to the edicts of blessed reality is a sad and necessary execution to witness ... the beheading of a tortured blond haired boy-child. and all of the garbage that was stuffed in his skull is now carried to the pyre to burn and add to the stench of all the other little deaths caused by the impotence of his judgement throughout his life. his overgrown life raised by a spank-wielding kissing machine. my hair looks like shit and I'm feeling embarrassed and ugly all around.

wtf is a "male manipulator"

that's just a regular man