cripplepunk is me not being able to goddamn walk and making it everyone else's problem as i limp and crawl around actually

the pain won't let me go to sleep AND it wakes me up. unfair

laying up crippled in an all pink bedroom is at least some measure of compensation. the decor's cute. many plushies

like brother I CANT WALK RIGHT NOW. MY LEGS ARE INTERNALLY BLEEDING. and yet a part of my brain is concerned about how my body looks? stfu

an eating disordered history is so fucked because even when youre recovered for years on, the stupid urge to drop weight rears its head

new blorbo attained: fucked up little guy lungs and leg JUST like me. i like him so much. hes so cute and silly

cannot express enough how happy it makes me to see happy jayvik art/writing. disabled rep is so joy inspiring. hes just like me FR!

viktor coughing up blood. hes JUST like me fr

caved. tiny little dangling ribbon brooch with a floral locket... too perfect

my facial scar's changed how i smile, because it resists it. still broodingly coming to terms with that fact

pink blankets and pink bedsheets and pink pillowcases and pink pyjamas. truly thriving when im surrounded by my favourite color <3

paging through the books on my shelf like hm... which one to read... so many options and possibilities... maybe wildwood?

its always a good day when i get to talk to my brother. love hearing about what he gets up to and how the weather is crawling along

anyways i desisted purely because of a transphobic environment + despair. coming out again was the best thing i couldve done for my health

cannot wait for my vintage bracelets to come in. the tennis bracelet is understated and sweet, the chunky oval one is gaudily gorgeous

i have so many layering and dainty necklaces back when that was more so my aesthetic. teeny tiny pink heart and star...

its cool how my older brother accepted my identity without blinking: he loves me first & foremost, and im always going to be his sibling

it does help that the wavy hair is adorable on me. the bedhead is fucking crazy though and im learning to manage it still LMFAO

to be loved is to be seen, to be understood... to have left your imprint and mark. to matter. to be beheld. its just testimony to that fact

weirdly validating in a sense, that the emotional distress left such an apparent physical mark. this has changed me, and everyone can see it