Outside the Lines (lashton)

(18) ~

After the doctors appointment, we came back to the hotel and packed for our flight home that night. I'm sitting in the airport when I finally let myself think about Doctor Moore's words.

Could I really recover from this? It seems this will always be my life, but... that's not what Doctor Moore told me. She has more experience with this type of thing anyways, she should know.

What am I kidding, what does she know? She doesn't know me, I know me. And I don't have a disorder.

Well... maybe I do. Maybe this isn't normal. I didn't use to be like this. That doesn't mean I have an eating disorder though.

Maybe I can just go back to being the old Luke I use to be. Eat whenever I'm hungry, not count calories, and enjoy the thought of food. It feels like such a long time since I've been that person, is it possible to go back to being him?

Calum and Michael have been glued to each other's side since finding out about my habits. I think they're afraid they'll say the wrong thing around me. Not that I mind. I'd rather be alone during this all. I don't want to have to pretend everything is fine when that's farthest from the truth.

Ashton, on the other hand, has been glued to my side. For the most part he's let me be. I think he's just worried about me, and I don't blame him. This can't be easy for him.

Easy for him? Try living through it.

"You good?" Ashton asks me. He must have noticed me spacing out. That's another thing he's been doing today, knocking me out of my thoughts. To be honest, I'm glad he's by my side bursting me out of my thoughts. They aren't the nicest things to surround myself with.

"Just thinking," I tell him. Usually I'll just nod my head to get him to let it go but I'm so confused on what to do.

I don't want my body to give out on me. Wouldn't that be easy though... not having to deal with anything anymore. Wouldn't have to worry about what I eat, wouldn't have to worry about my body, wouldn't have to worry about disappointing everyone.

"Thinking 'bout what?" he asks.

"What I should do, I don't know what to do," I tell him, confusion evident in my voice.

He seems to think over my words for a moment before speaking. "Well, in my opinion, I think you should get help."

"She made everything sound so dangerous today. I could never... drop dead," I say, forgetting I'm having this conversation with someone else and not just myself.

"It could happen. What you're doing to your body is extremely dangerous. You aren't getting enough nutrients to keep your body going. It could give out on you. Luke."

I sigh in frustration. Why is this so hard? This shouldn't be so hard. Any sane person would say "hey, let's get help for this!" But if I get help, I'll be huge. I'll lose everything I've worked for.

"It's fine, I'll be fine, don't worry," I say with a chuckle, trying to laugh off the conversation. This is a talk I don't want to have right now. He seems to understand that and goes back to scrolling on his phone in silence.

~

The English language is made up of more than one million words. But none of those words, not even one, are able to describe how I am feeling right now.