"I want to get lost with you, okay? I don’t want to date you or marry you, have two kids and a golden retriever and a white picket fence- I just want to get lost with you. I want to take the wrong subway train and end up in Chelsea, in a gallery with huge modern art paintings on the stark white walls. I want to watch you pretend to understand those paintings just to impress me. I want to get lost in a bookstore with the smell of aging pages and spilled coffee, stale clove cigarettes lingering on thrift store cotton and I want to get lost in blinking lights with you in a city near an ocean. I want to get lost in the sand with bare feet and wet hair that smells like salt and sun and air and sunscreen. I want to take to the sea and steal away on a sailboat with you in a white t-shirt and those old black sunglasses and that cliche crooked smile of yours that I want to stare at and kiss away in the same moment. I want to get lost on old country roads at night in the rain. I want to kiss you in the back of your old car that smells like warm leather and fresh cut grass and sweat and shampoo and I want your strong hands in my hair, getting lost in its waves. I want to get lost in your body when our clothes are still on and we are kissing and touching and whispering secrets in the most quiet and perfect human way we can. I want to get lost with you and only you in a field a forest a city an ocean a bookstore an old road or even just your dark green sheets, but I want to get lost with you so you can get lost with me,

"You would think, and society does, that the people who are suffering the most are the people who are at the lowest weights, the people who look the sickest. The people who have their every skipped meal etched outwardly on every protruding bone of their body. Actually, it’s not. It’s the people in-between. The people who have gained the weight, but have still lost their minds. Because, with nutrition comes feelings. With food comes a tidal wave of emotions that have been blocked out, numbed inside a cage of bones for so long that, when they’re finally let out, after all this time, they knock you off of your feet and onto your face. Society sees this, and tells you that you’re asking for attention. That you look fine, so you must be fine. That you need to just give it up and move on. And I just want to stop and say no. No. I believe you. I believe that you hurt, I believe that feeling is the worst, because I’m in this with you. Don’t let people who don’t understand tell you how sick you are or how bad you feel. You and I both know that eating disorders, at their core, are not about weight. How sick a person is cannot be determined by their appearance. I believe you."

I don't even know where to start

Cause you can't bandage the damage