Mermaid Orgasm unter We Heart It.
im in love with the idea of being in love☽
I went away for a three day camp.
On first day my dad phoned: He was diagnosed with type 2 diabetes.
On the second day one of my friends made a joke: He said a girl in our group put too much sugar in her tea and she’d die of diabetes is she wasn’t careful. I burst into tears.
On the third day I tried not to cry or worry. I didn’t cry but the worry wouldn’t go away. I remembered Vanessa, family friend, her diabetes killed her at 19.
I’m so scared, I honestly don’t know what to do or feel. He was just in hospital for lung problems not this. I can’t even talk to anyone about it because all they do is tell me not to worry.
I miss having some one to talk to, I miss not being scared.
"Louis Looks like a rat why is he in One direction?"
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“One, two, shhhh, she’s counting. Ariel runs, tiny legs waddling across pavement, her chubby fingers barely able to grasp her daily Pepsi, she runs. Poison in hand, smile on face, looking for hiding spots, three. Ariel stops, she takes a sip. She’s already consumed 1460 sodas in her lifetime, she’s 5. She runs, inhaling deeply as her lungs try to catch up with her feet.
Kayla’s 35, 4, 5, she counts the lights hanging from the hospital roof as she’s rushed to surgery, they flicker above her as she tries to remember every memory she’s ever had involving her feet, but her mind won’t let her wander from this moment, this second, this flickering light, a hush whisper, the last moment she’ll have with her feet. She blames it on her diabetes, as if this disease has a mind of its own. Doctors blame it on the 4410 Pepsis she’s been drinking since childhood.
Little Ariel can barely spell, she’s 6, and knows nothing about fructose or dextrin but neither does Kayla. Beaten, living in a broken home, she just keeps trying to find pieces of herself at the end of that bottle. Ariel only knows the sizzle of bubbles, the aches she feels in her tummy, the big words doctors use to describe her condition. They tell her mom that her kidney’s are failing, her blood sugar is too high, the pain she feels that mommy can’t fix because mommy’s been surviving off of ramen and sodas because mommy can barely afford to live.
Kayla sits back in her wheelchair trying to look over her stomach but she can’t. She can’t see the stumps, the spaces where her feet used to be, she can’t see herself, when she looks at the reflection staring back at her she’s just a person she turned into but she can’t stop, bottle after bottle she can’t stop, 6, 7. When Ariel turns 7 they see her dying behind overstuffed teddy bears and deflated balloons, it was her birthday. 8, 9, I’ve heard of death before, but I swear, there’s something foreign about the way it creeps to the lips of a 7-year-old, 10.
Every 10 seconds someone dies from diabetes, and in the time it’s taken me to recite this poem, 15 people will die.”
I just found out my dad has diabetes. He phoned and told me while I was away at camp… I’m so scared, I don’t know what to do.
Ansel Elgort for Dazed Magazine (x)
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