Netherworld

“I walked a mile with Pleasure She chatted all the way But left me none the wiser For all she had to say.

I walked a mile with Sorrow and ne’er a word said she; But, oh! the things I learnt from her when Sorrow walked with me” Robert Browning Hamilton

“A

And so I went through the looking glass, stepped into the netherworld, where up is down and food is greed, where convex mirrors cover the walls, where death is honor and flesh is weak.

It is ever so easy to go, harder to find your way back�

Marya Hornbacher, Wasted: A Memoir of Anorexia and Bulimia

not good enough failure broken hurt

i don’t know what else to do.

nothing fucking works anymore

Not trying hard enough but still tired of trying.

“They witnessed her destruction, then were left to wonder why, she saw nothing but darkness, though the stars shone in her eyes, but maybe they’d forgotten, when they failed to see the cracks, that a star’s light shines the brightest, when it’s starting to collapse”

Erin Hanson

GOOD, BETTER, BEST NEVER LET IT REST ‘TILL YOUR GOOD IS BETTER AND YOUR BETTER IS BEST

HOW DO YOU FIGHT FOR YOUR LIFE WHEN YOU DON’T EVEN WANT TO LIVE ANYMORE?

“Seems like no matter what I do, I just can’t get away from them” “get away from what?” “The voices I can hear them calling, calling, calling, calling, calling me” Eminem Echo

i’m fine

broken.

“The other option you have is to come to terms with this fucking life, as you call it, and put up with the suffering it involves. Put up with the suffering we all have to endure, always, to get through that and find and enjoy the happiness and joy that it brings us as well, in spite of our being alive.”

Arnaldur Indriðason

Life is a party I didn’t want to attend.

November/2013

Imagine this: you get an invitation and suddenly you are pushed into a car and given a free ride to this house where everyone’s dancing and drinking and not giving a fuck about your arrival, except for this little group of people who were waiting for you and you will learn to call Mom, Dad, Grandma and Siblings. You let them guide you and you eat, drink, and dance when you’re told. Everyone keeps talking about the Host, the one who invited you and Everyone Else to the party... they say he cares for all of you and they’re probably right, but no one has actually seen him, and in spite of being extremely grateful for the invitation, you are getting tired. He has this butler who works for him and approaches certain guests every once in a while and asks them to leave so new people can join the party. Everyone’s so sad when that happens. They keep talking about them and how cheerful they were, and how well they danced how how much they all miss them. But they recover quickly and keep dancing because the music is so good.

You don’t like the music though, but the people you’ve met so far seem to be having a really good time and you don’t want to disturb them. The food is good but you’re already full and you’re starting to feel sick.

A few people must have felt the same way because they left before the party ended or the butler asked them to leave. Everyone talks about them for a while. They comment on how ungrateful they have been, how rude it was to leave without permission and how mad the Host must be at them. You hear them whisper until they eventually forget... and you start thinking. You start thinking because you understand. You want to leave too.

You are tired and your feet hurt but you are too scared to open the door yourself and you feel sorry for the people who welcomed you at your arrival because they’ve been trying so hard to make you enjoy the party... so you just try to find a quiet room and wait in there for the butler to come to find you, to set you free.

“If you saved yourself, and did not wait for salvation, you'd be self-sufficient. How dull�

Marya Hornbacher, Wasted: A Memoir of Anorexia and Bulimia

I don’t like the memories because the tears come easily, and once again I break my promise to myself for this day.

It’s a constant battle.

A war between remembering... ...and forgetting.