GP Visit #1 

Today the GP refused to check my vitals; I asked for my heart rate and pulse to be taken.

She said this on the basis that it looks like I’ve maintained my weight. I decided against explaining how bulimia isn’t likely to trigger weight loss over a relatively short period; a month of this last bout in my case.

But I’m currently not eating at all.

Tuesday – chocolate shake

Wednesday- 3 medium Diet Coke, 1 fruit juice

Thursday- 1 fruit juice, 3 medium Diet Coke

Friday (so far) – medium Diet Coke

Needless to say I’m worried. 


Scared of Food (again)

I’m struggling with food again. 

But this feels different from the last few times because its conscious. I was getting fat but realistically know that not eating isn’t the answer. I know that from not eating over the past three days I’m not helping my weight loss.

Yet I feel more confident, more healthy, more everything. Food pangs have gone now. I’ve done this before so know how it goes: Heart palpitations; achy ribs; breathing slower. I know I’m going to snap soon. Food is an addiction after all.

An addiction that unfortunately never goes away. If I was waiting on someone to notice a physical difference then I’d be waiting a while; there’s a fair amount to lose. But I’m doing this for me. Because this is how I deal with stress.

I’ll keep updating here. I intend to go for as long as I’m able but have a busy day tomorrow so will have to see where my energy levels are at in the morning.

miscarved melancholy [spoken word]

I’ve tried spoken word poetry before but wanted to vent and thought this was a healthy alternative.
Thank you to all for bearing with me while I straight out a few creases.
More mental health awareness and LGBTQA+ content upcoming!

miscarved melancholy


our love story should have been simple to explain
because you smiled at me and i was yours
forget that we were both depressed
omit that one of us locked up our miseries and thought nothing of swallowing the key
erase that the other miscarved melancholy time and time again through welts in their skin
in that moment we were no longer tragedies failing expectations
in that moment, this one moment

then its six months down the road and all the fun in maybes becomes anxieties
the could bes become can nots
you pushing me away from you makes silencing false promises with harsh kisses all the harder
can you remember when neck biting was passionate
now its just so you’re reminded its hard to be close sometimes

if i deserved better then so did you
because you were never my only exception
but the scavenger hunt that was picking up my hearts pieces was quicker with two
we glued it back together with drunken i love yous and whispered confessions of the perfect suicide pact

time heals all wounds but times a cruel bitch counting down each minute of the day on a faulty fobwatch much in need of winding
one day i’ll save up enough self love for a digital model
until then lets pretend we hurt each other in malice and misgendered for kicks
that the first smiles charm was only supposed to last til morning
anything to make the nights now less lonely

breakdowns, breakups
T/W Mentions of suicide, hospitalisation and violence

The following isn’t meant to upset, only to allow me to vent and offer some insight both into my inpatient experiences and own life.

Been struggling with a depressive period as of late and took the time to reflect on some of my darker life experiences. Inevitably I cause myself some upset hence the breakdown that follows.


T/W Psychosis discussion, brief mentions of substance abuse

As someone who experiences only mild psychosis (as a side effect of anxiety), I was hesitant to make this video. If any information sounds incorrect or your own experiences are different to information here, please comment below. Always important to never stop learning!

00:52 Unusual Beliefs or ‘Delusions’
01:18 Hallucinations
01:41 Effects
02:22 Causes
02:57 Cannabis
04:13 Seeking Help
06:14 Treatment


This literal weight.. [poem]

‘This literal weight..’ [poem]
Why does it feel like the weight of the worlds on my shoulders when I carry a much heavier load in my chest

Alongside my chest

On my chest

Sits a ductal system of misogyny and sexual repression that wasn’t in my ownership to begin with

The off beat 

Heart beats 

That beat through my rib cage aren’t mine when the skin I live in is raped of its worth by boring stares and wandering hands

My identity was rewritten after bashful warnings of the dangers of provocative clothing

Leaving only an empty shell save the voiceless sobs wrenched from a now tainted body that wasn’t my own

Yet mammary glands undamaged

Primed for the day that fertilised notions of internal sexism would embed themselves in my darkest reaches

9 months festering inside, the idealised body image now misshapen and distorted, stretch marks fit only for the unfrequented areas of fetish porn sites

“It’s a beautiful baby girl”

The cycle starts again