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My skin hung from my bones like a hand-me-down sweater, loose and strung down. My complexion had ran pale over the months, my freckles more evident than ever. I so badly wanted to rip them off and stomp on them, forgetting they ever existed on my body.

I started starving myself in December. It wasn't planned or mediated, more like a thought that dipped in and out of my brain. I wanted a slimmer face at first; a sharp jaw instead of chubby cheeks. I'd always been called cute, but never handsome. God, I wanted to be handsome.

I'd gotten the sharp jaw pretty quickly, it made me happy. I got a good amount of compliments from it, some smiles. The attention made me want to fix more of myself, bits and pieces that I didn't even care about.

I remember a few days before Christmas I had been pulled into a hug. I'd been asked if I had gained weight, that I had felt softer than usual. Softer? I thought the wording was weird and took it negatively. I needed to fix myself.

Christmas was when it really started. I could feel my body ache, the hunger I had felt from not eating for such a long amount of time sinking into my flabby flesh. I watched everyone else eat with my hands covering my stomach, afraid that its grumbling would attract negative attention. I would've been called a pig for sure.

New years was even worse.

There was a party, always a party. It seemed like everyone in town had been invited. Snacks and drinks were laid out on a large table and, at first, I wanted to reach out and grab something from the pile. It was when I realized that there was barely anyone else retrieving items that I backed away, afraid of being thought of as selfish or fat. Something negative.

I stopped eating for three weeks.

I had thrown myself in my room and locked the door. I'd balled myself up and stuck myself in my bed, my arms wrapped around my hollow abdomen. I hadn't felt such strong pain, ever. I felt like I was being carved from the inside out, like I was a pumpkin being decorated for halloween.

Three weeks turned into four, a month.

I hadn't seen my friends in awhile. I'd started wearing hoodies to cover my evident bones which weren't hidden well enough under my skin. They stuck out and bumped against everything, which easily resulted in bruises.

Vance was the first to notice.

He had came over, a surprise visit. My sleeve had rolled down, revealing to him how skinny I truly was. He had this softened look almost instantly, one that I barely noticed through the panic of pulling down my top.

He offered me food. I held it in mouth, nodded my head once and threw up. He didn't say much to me after that. I thought I had angered him, but it was too late to reverse what had been started.

Bruce and Robin were next, same time. Now thinking about it, they most likely had already known from Vance.

We had all been hanging out, bowling. My body was already weak, fragile. I had ignored the longing for food long enough to block out the pain from it, something I never should have done.

I heard Robin strike out before I fainted, the sound of his position on the board changing underneath the ring of his yell.

I had to stay in the hospital for two months.

They fed me through a tube stuck into my stomach, it wasn't great. Of course it wasn't great, it was horrible.

I remember crying, hating that my fat would return to my body. The body I had worked so hard, yet so little on. I hadn't worked at all. I had belittled myself, hated myself, for such a long time.

I had achieved what I wanted but in such a negative way. I wanted to reverse time but found it hard to do with a tube stuck inside of my body. I couldn't even move my fingers, much less my mouth which turned down every time I saw my best friends.

They all pitied me, that I could clearly see.

"Why?"

That was always the question.

"I don't know."

That was always the answer.

Maybe I wanted to impress someone, to change someone's opinion on me. Maybe I wanted to make myself look better, shape myself into an image of someone else. A model, an idol, someone that wasn't me.

"I think I wanted to fix myself."

I'd gotten a weird look at that, a frown too.

"You didn't need to be fixed. Even if you did, you have best friends who would've put you back together."

I had my tears wiped for me. I hated that I couldn't wipe them myself, something that I had caused.

A week after I had been discharged from the hospital, I had eaten my first full meal again.

"You don't have to feel guilty about eating. If you're scared about gaining weight, let's work out together. Be healthy."

Vance didn't look at me when he said that, but I could feel his heart reaching towards mine. I smiled at him, noticing how his lips twitched up slowly.

"Let's all work out together. We'll be healthy too."

Bruce had ran his hand over my back then. Robin had joined our hands together, kissing the back of my mine with his pasta-stained lips.

I cried again, wiping my own tears. I was happy that I could do that again, move my own limbs without help.

The urges to not eat, to fall back into my old routine, subsides as time dragged on. Everyone was proud of me, and I was too. I hadn't gained all of my weight back, but that's okay. I was healthy.

I am healthy.

This was a coping chapter , but if you are struggling with thoughts such as the ones listed above , don't feel afraid to reach out to me or anyone else . I love all of you so much and my dms are always , ALWAYS , open. <8. Take care of yourself please and stay healthy !!

Also , I'm half asleep writing this so if it's ass, that's why.

OKAY BYE !!! <333. (i'll probably revise this soon)

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