Nevermore. {An Anorexia Story}

Guilt.

      Wow. Just look at you now. Never would've thought you'd end up here, amiright? You were the cute little perfect girl that everybody said was gorgeous.

Now I don't even know what I look like, do I look like a gorgeous princess or do I look like a homeless person? Its a fun guessing game I think. I just kind of go off of what other people tell me. When they say 'oh my god, you're so pretty', I just assume I've done something right even though I secretly will never believe them. I never really know what I look like though.

My hands are cold, and my head hurts. I'm thirsty but I don't want to go get water. I want to stay put, wrapped in blankets and trying my best to stay warm. My mom called for dinner about ten minutes ago, I pretended like I didn't hear. At least I won't have to go down to the kitchen until she comes to get me.

I wonder what I look like to her? Is she scared of me?
All of these things I wonder with no answer.
     God, wouldn't it be nice to have one fucking answer?
     I heard a small knock on my door and I went back to acting like I was reading. I can't focus though, so I was never really reading. My mom entered my room. Its dark, the only light is coming from my little book light attached to my book all crookedly.

     "Hey hun, dinners ready."

     Lets think, what's a good excuse? Why do I have to not eat?

     "Let me finish my book, I only have about fifty pages left, when I'm done I'll warm up some food to eat."

     "Okay," She said and closed the door. A sigh of relief escaped me. I put down the crappy ass book that I was never even reading. I wonder if she knows? She couldn't. Maybe she's noticed my eyebags, or my weight loss. I kind of hope she does, but if she really finds out I'll have to eat. She will freak. I won't be able to skip a meal ever again. I groan at the thought of eating every meal, and two snacks a day. Thats why it's important to not get caught. It's important to have control.

     It's kind of ironic that this illness takes away the control you should have, but when it comes to continuing the illness, you get just a bit of control, enough to not end up in a hospital. It's kind of like a game, a game to get skinny and look like you should be in a hospital, but to not end up in one, its honestly a game for geniuses.

     Most books or short stories about anorexia end in recovery or start in recovery, but I have zero intentions of failing at the perfect body. I don't care if I end up in a grave, but I won't get fat like most people end up once they've done 'recovery'. I think recovery is a trap where you'll get so fat you'll die of a heart attack while on oxygen because you are so humongous.

     My face churns at the thought of one day being like that. I pull the covers over my head in an attempt to keep warm.

    

Light shines through the open curtains that I forgot to pull shut. My door is slightly open and my laundry is sprawled out all over the floor. The light temporarily blinds me as my eyes adjust from my sleep. I feel nauseous as I crawl out of bed and go to brush my teeth. My head still slightly hurts, a bit less worse than yesterday though. I check my watch, the time is six thirty seven. I sigh at the thought of an annoying school day ahead.

      Dont forget to work out you fat fuck.

      After I brush my teeth I clean the sink of my toothpaste-spit and go to my room, shutting the door so I can do my workouts. I lay on the hard wooden floor. 1...2...3...4, I count until I reach fifty every workout. Inner thighs, then abs. My tailbone scrapes against the floor and crackles multiple times.