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Rea ✮⋆˙
101 posts
Rea ✮⋆˙
@moireaa_
she/her ✧ illustrator ♡ #VGenArtist
comms open ➛ Katılım Haziran 2026
43 Takip Edilen70 Takipçiler
DROP YOUR OC!!
DROP YOUR OC!!
DROP YOUR OC!!
i'll choose a few to sketch for my portfolio! i'd love to know their personality, lore, or anything that makes your OC special ♡
#artraffle #vtubers
English
check my new post please ^^
Rea ✮⋆˙@moireaa_
DROP YOUR OC!! i want to draw lots of vtubers and become everyone's mama. drop your oc below, and i'll choose a few to sketch for my portfolio! i'd love to know their personality, lore, or anything that makes them special ♡ ♡ + ↻ are super appreciated!! #vtubers
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where's my mootss? please say hi if you see this, my reach been lowered this past few days(๑-﹏-๑)
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Can't stop drawing oversized hoodies 💛💙
This is my first Live2D rig! What's your favorite part?🥹
#Live2D
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Guyssss, we need your help. let's be moots on VGen and support each other (˶˃ᆺ˂˶) #artmoots #ArtistOnTwitter #VGenComm
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i need your eyes for a second. this is the layout i made for my vgen service preview!!
is there anything you'd change or add? i'm always happy to hear your suggestions ♡
Rea ✮⋆˙@moireaa_
i finally finished my vgen service preview layouts. i'd really love to hear your thoughts on the design.. should i post them here first?
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@PixieStrmDesign this hit me so deeply. your writing is beautiful, raw, and heartbreaking all at once. thank you for trusting us with your story. sending you so much love ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡
English
I’m currently working on a memoir about my life with an Eating Disorder. It’s called Bone Deep.
This is chapter 1:
The Beginning of Hunger
One of us had to die, and I was convinced it would be me.
I didn’t always have the words for it. Back then, it didn’t feel like a life-or-death battle. It felt like discipline. Like control. Like I had finally figured something out that other people hadn’t.
But even as a little girl, something in me was already unraveling.
I remember standing in front of the mirror, turning sideways, then forward again, studying my body like it was something separate from me—something to fix. I didn’t know where the voice came from, the one that told me I was too much. Too soft. Too big. Just… too.
It was quiet at first. Easy to ignore.
Then it wasn’t.
The thoughts settled in early, embedding themselves into the way I saw everything. Food became numbers before it ever reached my mouth. Movement became something to earn, not something to enjoy. I learned, without realizing I was learning, that smaller meant better. Smaller meant safer. Smaller meant worthy.
I counted almonds like they were sins. Five meant control. Six meant failure.
There was comfort in the numbers. They gave me rules, and rules made the world feel less chaotic. If I followed them perfectly, nothing bad could happen—or at least, that’s what I told myself.
I don’t remember the exact moment food stopped being nourishment and became a battlefield. There wasn’t a single turning point, no dramatic shift. It happened slowly, quietly, the way shadows stretch across a room without you noticing.
But I do remember the silence.
It followed me everywhere. At the dinner table. At school. Lying in bed at night, staring at the ceiling while my stomach ached and my thoughts ran in circles. I became tight-lipped, careful. Every bite calculated. Every choice measured.
I remember staring at my plate, doing the math before I allowed myself to take a single bite. Adding, subtracting, bargaining with myself.
If I eat this, I won’t eat later.
If I skip that, I’ll be okay.
It didn’t feel dangerous. Not yet.
In the beginning, it felt like I had found something that worked. Something that quieted the noise in my head—the constant hum of not-enough. Hunger became something I could measure, something I could win against.
And winning felt good.
There’s a kind of high that comes with control, with denying yourself and calling it strength. With watching the numbers go down and believing that means you’re doing something right.
For a while, I held onto that feeling like it was proof that I was okay.
But control is deceptive. It doesn’t announce when it starts slipping away from you.
What began as something I chose slowly became something that chose me.
The rules multiplied. The numbers mattered more. The space food occupied in my mind grew until it crowded out everything else. It wasn’t just about eating anymore—it was about fear. Guilt. Obsession. It was about being good enough in a way that always felt just out of reach.
Food wasn’t just food anymore.
It was a test I was always failing.
And the strangest part is, from the outside, it didn’t always look like anything was wrong.
I smiled when I was supposed to. I said I had already eaten. I pushed food around my plate in ways that looked convincing enough. I learned how to disappear in plain sight.
No one saw the calculations happening in my head.
No one heard the voice that never stopped talking.
No one felt the exhaustion of fighting a battle that followed me everywhere I went.
By the time anyone might have noticed, I was already in too deep.
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@moireaa_ Followed you! Let’s be moots! 💖
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