home ASK memories
Writer, 25 years old.
Buenos Aires, Argentina.


Thanks to the place I work, the gym cost me nothing~ only 9 bucks per month and the place is amazing!! So yesterday I bought sport clothes and began my workout program. So far it is easy, it’s not like my body didn’t do anything until now. I used to go out with my bike for hours or i like to walk really faster. It’s nice so today i will go again before the big event, BAZAA~ Yeah its a huge event in the japanese school I went and there’s japanese food, let me die here, hahaha~. 

I’m feeling a lot better. I left the KPOP fandom behind, i left the bad influences of friends there too and I’m working on my self and what I want to be. 

When my weight will be 70kgs, I will buy a new pair of trousers for the summer~. A little reward after each weight lost is cool!

See ya later


Great idea for anyone who works out.

(Not mine - no credit)

Getting up, Getting better, Getting out

Currently I have been depressed. I was eating my feelings, I was sleeping at any moment I could and I forgot about college at all. After what happened with Cynthia, I felt like crap. Yeah, I did like Cynthia and the fact she actually speaks my same language. But she did stuff that hurts me and I was too fast and she was too cruel and… I stopped it. Perhaps I’m a huge twat, perhaps she liked me back and she is a mental case like me. I don’t know and I think I will never know.

I’m scared of no going out with anyone. 
I’m scared of being fatter and fatter.
I’m scared that no one actually likes me.

I’m scared of being alone with myself because I might lose again.

But those fears will have a stop, an end, I will face them. I want to face them and I will.

One step at time.

If I’ve learned anything these past three years, its that recovery is gradual.

You do not suddenly wake up one morning and feel fine every day from then on. No, recovery is taking baby steps, taking small steps, taking cautious steps. Its like learning to walk again. Often, you fall and you trip and you stumble. But you brush yourself off and start walking again.

Recovery is being wide awake at three in the morning but feeling so tired that all you want to do is shut your eyes and never wake up.

Recovery is crying your eyes out because you just spilled everything you ever felt and still feel to a close friend, sobbing and shaking and choking, worried that they’ll judge you and hate you and call you names.

Recovery is waking up some days and the smell of food makes your stomach churn, recovery is when you’re in the shower shaving your legs and you think, “I could do it. I could totally do it. No one would even notice anyway, not like they care, not like they even bother to check anymore,” but you ignore those bad thoughts, you push them to the back of your mind, you put the razor down and step out of the shower, you go downstairs and pour yourself a bowl of cereal (maybe you only ate half of it but you tried and I am so proud of you) and you put the biggest smile that the world has ever seen on your face. Maybe its fake today. Some day it won’t be.

Recovery is still wondering about death, still wondering how it would feel if you went outside and walked to the nearest bridge and took the leap. But you don’t, not today, not tomorrow, not ever.

Recovery is hearing that song and having all those old emotions flood your mind and all you want to do is curl up into a ball in your bed and have a good cry. So you do. Cry until you can’t anymore. Cry until your eyes are dry and your cheeks flushed, cry til your throat is raw. Its okay. Its a process. So when you’re done and you’ve made a mess of your pillow, get up and wash your face. Put on an outfit that makes you feel confident. Curl your eyelashes and do your hair. Put on a song that inspires you, a song that makes you smile, a song that makes you want to laugh, a song that makes you feel free. Take a deep breath, look in the mirror, and know that you will be okay eventually.

Recovery is loving yourself. Recovery is hating yourself. There’s that little voice, in the back of your mind, telling you that you could never feel comfortable in your own skin. Couldn’t you? Make the changes you can, the healthy ones. Exercise more, regulate your sleep cycle eat consistently. Cut your hair, do your eyebrows. Anything to make yourself happier without harming yourself.

Recovery is relapsing. You took a step back? That’s okay. Maybe you’ve lost that battle, but you’ll still win the war. Recovery is still feeling your lungs collapse and having the room spin when you get anxious, even though its been six months. Recovery is not a one year thing, a two year thing, a three year thing. Its something to last your entire lifetime. You will be okay. But okay is not a destination. Its a pit stop. You won’t be happy all your life, that’s guaranteed. You will be angry, furious even, you will be upset. You will cry, and sigh, you will still shove your fist in your mouth to smother your sobs and scream into your pillow at four in the morning. You will laugh and smile and be happy and dance all night until your feet hurt. No feeling is permanent. Nothing lasts forever. And that’s okay.

Recovery is accepting the things you cannot change. Having the courage to change the things you can, and knowing the difference between the two. Recovery is telling yourself that everything will be okay and believing it. You will be okay.


I’m going to start to love and appreciate myself. I’m cutting off anyone that has ever made me feel bad about myself and i’m starting new. I’ve needed this for a while now and now i’m going to recover. I’m better than this and no one can tell me otherwise. I’m going to get better.

Freak out

So i cried and i cried, my mom came and told her everything. It’s hard for my mom to know I like girls and boys. But she tries and now, i should try too. What makes me weak, it’s going to be my strength. I will stand back on my feet and face everything again and again. 25 years and nothing done.

I need help. 


It’s been 25 days of this madness. I don’t know what she thinks or why she thinks this way or even if she is real or for real… 

Why you do when someone you starts to like tells you “Fuck off” even if it’s not with those words? I should give up already, leave her and let her be for God’s sake. I want to speak with my friends because I don’t know why i feel like crying and no one picks up the fucking phone. I hate to feel like a stupid. So what will my friends say if there were here? “FUCK HER! Leave her and go on.” Good advice but what would you do if you don’t want to do that? Should I wait until she wants to talk to me? Did she ended up everything? Even the small friendship we had.

I don’t know. What I do know is that i want to cry and I want to yell, i want to leave College, I want to leave work, I want to punch a wall because I find myself disgusting… Yeah. I don’t want to be me right now. I don’t want to look at the mirror and find my ugly self looking back at me. I don’t want to like someone and think “Oh right, who will like an ugly and fat girl like me? NO FUCKING ONE”. 

And then, this happens. Like the cherry on top of the ice-cream, this happens… I can’t be myself with no one because no one likes an “EMO” person like me. No one likes me and I hate myself. 




what i planned to do this summer

  1. paint and make art
  2. hang out with friends
  3. exercise 

what i actually did

  1. cried
  2. blogged
  3. ruined every friendship i have








not just followers, everyone.


I’m here if any of you need to talk<3

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The best part is, this post actually does something, it offers support, unlike one of those useless “reblog if you care” posts.

Exactly. Which is why I’ll reblog this one.

In Travel INFINITE Busan Photobook


My happy place 👐


🐬+ 📎= true love #happy#happy#happy (at TGS Tortoise General Store)