The feeling of the bare bottoms of her feet meeting the cold glass of the scale became a morning routine. At first, the fridgidness would make her jump, nearly falling off the scale to regain her balance, but now she felt temporary comfort in the cold that would hug her feet. As the clock ticked, the anxious feeling of waiting for the numbers to reveal itself became familiar, so much so that she became impatient. She frowned upon the result of her measurements that fine morning, stepping off the scale with a disappointed exhale. The mirror greeted her as she turned herself back around, only to close her eyes and hide from what she thought she had become. Her clothes had felt as if they became tighter, gripping onto her healthy skin. The skin in which she nurtured and moisturized every time she finished her hot showers. The bathroom, to her, was almost like another world; another dimension separate from the outside. Words left unsaid, tears that liquified glassy eyes, and screams held behind trembling lips, were all to be let out in this very bathroom. Who knows, maybe this was her safe place, a bubble which nobody could pop. She trapped herself inside, concealing herself within that locked door. Light shone beneath that door to the outside world, and with light having the capabilities of warmth and security, no one had the slightest bit of concern. She would wait for the sound of a knock sometimes, hoping that someone would answer her calls, but the light was dismissed as nothing but like a singular ray of sunshine passing through a window. The inside was cold though, like the scale she found herself staring at. She would then helplessly lean herself back against her boundary of the world, that shut door, pressing the side of her face against the wall in desperate attempts for comfort. The arms in which she would cry in would hold her, burdened by the fact that she wasn't alone, but endured loneliness.
