Wintergirls

Не хорошо, когда девочки умирают.

“There is no magic cure, no making it all go away forever. There are only small steps upward; an easier day, an unexpected laugh, a mirror that doesn't matter anymore.”

“In one aspect, yes, I believe in ghosts, but we create them. We haunt ourselves.”

Я не помню, как это, есть, не планируя, не подсчитывая калории и процент жира, не меряя мои бедра и ноги, думая, заслужила ли я этого, я обычно говорю себе, что нет.

“Why?” is the wrong question.
Ask “Why not?”

“What do I want?
The answer to that question does not exist.”

“Do I want to die from the inside out or the outside in?”

“I am beginning to measure myself in strength, not pounds. Sometimes in smiles.”

I have no idea how much I weigh. This scares me almost to death, but I`m working on it. I am beginning to measure myself in strengths, not pounds. Sometimes in smiles.

Food is life. And that`s the problem. When you`re alive, people can hurt you. It`s easier to crawl into a bone cage or a snowdrift of confusion. It`s easier to lock everybody out.
But it`s a lie.

In one aspect, yes, I believe in ghosts, but we create them. We haunt ourselves, and sometimes we do such a good job, we lose track of reality.

"Why are you being so mean?"
"Friends tell friends the truth."
"Yeah, but not to hurt. To help."

I`m stable enough to go home until then. They all say I`m stable.
I failed eating, failed drinking, failed not cutting myself into shreds. Failed friendship. Failed sisterhood and daughterhood. Failed mirrors and scales and phone calls. Good thing I`m stable.

"I don`t want to," I say. "I don`t see any point."
"I know," Jennifer says. "You`re an adult, you make your own decisions. We`re beginning to figure that out." She smiles a little and it softens her words. "Sometimes being an adult means doing the right thing, even if it`s not what you want."

Nobody should ever go to a funeral alone.

Because I am still a little girl who believes in Santa and the tooth fairy and you.

We held hands when we walked down the gingerbread path into the forest, blood dripping from our fingers. We danced with witches and kissed monsters. We turned us into wintergirls, and when she tried to leave, I pulled her back into the snow because I was afraid to be alone.

"What if you get a vision you don`t like?"
"Doesn`t matter if I like it or not. What matters is that I pay attention, and figure out why it was sent to me."

He rolls up his sleeve to show the tattoo that takes up his entire forearm: a muscular half-bull, half-man thing riding a bike through a wall of flame, with wings sprouting from its legs and arms and helmet
"What is that supposed to be?"
"He`s the god of bike messengers. Cool, huh? This vision of him came to me one day when I was delivering a package to a law firm in Boston. Saw him so clearly I thought he`d reach out and choke me. He had to go in my skin."

I knew what he wanted to hear. He couldn`t stand me being sick. Nobody can. They only want to hear that you`re healing, you`re in recovery, taking it one day at a time. If you`re locked into sick, you should stop wasting their time and just get dead.