i want to lick your wound
I did not like to be touched, but it was a strange dislike. I did not like to be touched because I craved it too much. I wanted to be held very tight so I would not break. Even now, when people lean down to touch me, or hug me, or put a hand on my shoulder, I hold my breath. I turn my face. I want to cry.
“
— Wasted: A Memoir of Anorexia and Bulimia by Marya Hornbacher (via thechocolatebrigade)
Reblogged 1 month ago from 199o-deactivated20120128 (Originally from thechocolatebrigade)
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