Hunger

If you're feeling upset, negative or suicidal, just know that no matter what, if you have the slightest bit of hope, it'll get better even if it takes ten years. You will be happy again, don't give up. Leave the door of hope in your heart still open.

---

 “Go up to your room! I can’t even believe you got suspended!” my mum yelled at me. She looked so angry and pissed off that I didn’t want to argue with her.

I bowed my head so that she’ll know I wasn’t proud of my behaviour and to let her know that I knew what I did is wrong. Which is true – it was dumb and I was barely even thinking when I did it. I took steps up the staircase and grasped the rail for support. My chest was heaving far too rapidly when I was half-way up. I felt tears prick the corners of my eyes as I forced myself up another stair. My body was completely fatigued.

It was probably because I didn’t get any sleep last night.

Once I got up the stairs, I felt myself collapse and I heard the microwave beep. The sound of glasses bumping ring out and I heard my mum get a utensil from the drawer. She slurped on what sounded like spaghetti and I felt a gag begin to form at the back of my throat.

Somehow, I was able to push myself off the ground and make it to the toilet in time. I was disgusted by how much came up. I wiped my mouth and flushed, relieved and hoped the taste of bile would go away quickly. I turned on the tap and washed my face and hands. I took in a gulp of water and then went off to my bedroom to sleep it off.

***

I walk myself to school every day instead of driving there. Our PE teacher said it was a better technique of every day exercise. As soon as I walked out of the Principal’s office, it was our first lunch that was shorter than our second and all I could hear was about yesterday. Everyone was whispering and giving me looks of pure hatred. I didn’t think I’d get so despised.

“Fat bitch wants to take everyone’s food.” Someone laughed.

“Hey everyone, hide your food before she steals them and hides them for herself!” another yelled and a lot of people laughed while shaking their heads.

I felt anything that I thought was hopeful drain out of my body. I walked with a quick pace past everybody and all the food around me, passed the gates and to the way back home. Suddenly I was running and I ignored the fact that I didn’t close the front door.

I screamed and everything gushed out. Hot tears streamed out of my eyes and my chest was heaving up and down drastically. I stood up and placed my hands on my dresser, my back hunched and gazed into the mirror.

The girl looked back at me. Her eyes swollen and her face all blotchy. The bags under her eyes were more defined now. The dark circles almost black. And her cheeks were chubbier than ever.

With a scream, I slammed everything off the dresser. Perfume bottles and lotions shattered, contents soaking the carpeted floor. I fell to the floor, sobbing and wondering why everything was so bad for me.

Why me?

Why me?

I gazed down at my hands, my fingers bleeding and the scars on my wrists red and still raw from a few days ago.

They’re right.

I’m fat. I’m fat and ugly.

I lied on the floor, the feeling of my stomach flipping with hunger made me numb and comforted me until my mother came home. I didn’t move. I didn’t even look anywhere but at the dried blood on my wrist even when her footsteps were getting louder; closer. Her footsteps stopped dead.

“Oh my God!” she gasped and then she knelt beside me, shaking me and screaming. I didn’t intend to cry. Tears just spilled out of my eyes. But I was silent.

She wrapped my wrist with her scarf and scooped me up and placed me on the bed as gently as she could. She asked me questions and tried to get me to talk but I just kept silent. She lied down next to me and placed her hand on my back and I heard her breath hitch. I felt tears trickle down my cheeks because I knew what she was thinking. I knew she was feeling the bumps of my spine. Her fingers ran down the bulges and mid-way, I heard her choke. Her voice was hoarse and unsteady when she spoke.

“You know that I love you, right?” I felt her lips press on my forehead and she snuggled down into the covers. Both of us curled together and she tried to be as tender as possible. It was as if she was taking care of me as a baby.

But I liked it.

I wanted to be spoiled a little bit. I wanted to be told that I was loved. I wanted to sleep next to my mum when I had nightmares, even though I was living them.

It’s true when they say that mother’s take the nightmares away.

It’s true because I am better now and I have friends. It took 431 days for me to get that feeling. The feeling of knowing that I’m better, that I’ve woken up.

I’m eating again and I’m not hiding people’s food from them and from myself anymore. I eat what my mum makes me or buys me. I play sports now; I don’t just sit in my room and exercise for hours alone. I can sleep, the insomnia wore off. I don’t cut myself; I write or sit down with my parents whenever I feel negative.

I take care of myself. I eat healthier for my body since it’s still tired from what I didn’t feed it but it’s getting much better.

I’m better.

I feel stronger.

I feel alive.

---

Sorry if this wasn't very well written but I tried my best to try and get the reader to realise and learn something. Hopefully you connected with the story even if you haven't had a case of Anorexia. 

But remember, if you need someone to talk to, inbox us, it's what we're here for.

Written by JustSmileAgain