I can read it and I can say it, but honestly and I am nothing with you guys if not honest. I am as close to reclaiming most parts of this body as those crunchy brown leaves in the foreground. I. Can’t. Ridiculous you say. Mhhhmmm, I say it too. Nothing but yoga pants have fit for most of the last 2 years. I’m in this constant state of fixing but so not in a healthy way. I. Can’t. The tears come to even look at this picture and there’s no app that can fix the scars of “almost there”. I’m. Tired. Feelings are real and hating the way you look is a s#!tty way to feel all the days. I. Can’t. I’m. Tired. These tears and the ripping in my chest and the true life hatred of these parts as I punch this perfectly flat tiny screen are real. As real as the love Jesus has for me. I. Can’t. *Sweet girl, you don’t have to. I will. I’m. Tired. *Come to me and rest. Not yet. But soon, I hope. Soon.
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