*Hard hitting and possibly triggering topics*
Laying in my hard bed, curled up in my own ball of misery. Contemplating the same thing that had been on my mind for the past few days. Lately it had been stronger than ever. Endless tears, endless arguments, endless regrets.
Who am I kidding? This is nothing new. This had been on my mind for the past 3 years. Ever since that once night in the tub. Ever since that one time where I thought I could do it.
Weakling.
Of course you couldn't do it.
No matter how hard you tried at some things, they never worked.
Let me bring you back to the present.
I was out of tears. I just lay here, huddled together for warmth. Expressionless face, because nothing mattered anymore.
Out of emotions.
Empty.
Hollow.
A vacant vessel waiting for someone to save them.
But who's going to save you when no one knows anything is wrong?
People see you as the outgoing persona, always laughing, flashing a grin and acting so self confident. Because that's how you knew how to act. It was what I was good at.
Every now and then, you'd crack just a little, and people might get a glimpse of how you felt. As soon as that windshield had a sliver of that crack, you'd call O'Brien and get it fixed, reminding everyone that "I'm fine! You know me, I'm just being dramatic" shrugging your shoulders, shaking your head and moving on with life.
Opening up to people was scary. You didn't know how they would react or who they would gossip to. They might seem supportive to your face, but who knows what they were thinking about inside their head? They could be thinking "What a complete nutter. I can't wait to get rid of this waste of a human. Get them out of my life so I don't have to hear them complain".
That's the scary part, not knowing.
You have to come to terms with being alone.
Having solitude may be your saving grace.
------
Just put on some makeup, hide the bags under your eyes, plaster a smile on your face and no one will suspect a thing.
As long as you:
• Keep your meals consistent, not too much, not too little.
• Carry on with your everyday tasks.
• Ensure that all activities seem the same as usual and your friends with know that you're okay.
Or at least thats what they will think.
Until you start to remember how you used to feel. And you begin to crave that feeling of being empty, no food in your stomach. Now that's all you want.
So you miss a meal. No big deal. You'll just be a little hungrier in the morning.
Skip dinner, wake up thinner.
You do that for a little bit, then you skip two meals.
No breakfast and no dinner. You allow yourself a small lunch to justify the fact that "No I don't have an eating disorder, I'm fine!"
But you're not.
And you'll only realise that when it's gotten to the point where you're swimming in your clothes.
The constant headaches.
Always lethargic.
Sunken in features.
Bones sticking out.
People asking you if you're sick or if you're okay.
It only really hits you that something is wrong when you can't move. It's physically painful for you to get out of bed for a few hours a day.
Your brain cannot function.
You are literally dying.
But that's okay, because I wanted this.
Right?
It didn't matter how many times people asked, or how many times people tried to get you to eat, you always regurgitated the same pre-planned answers.
"Oh no I'm okay thanks, I just had something"
"Honestly, I'm great. I'm just a little tired right now"
"I'm fine! No no I promise you, I'm not hungry haha"
It didn't matter that you hadn't eaten that week, or that your stomach was eating itself or even that you might pass out in a minute, your mind was so set on giving the same answer.
When people asked how you were, you never really thought about how you actually felt, you just knew that you had to say the same things.
Most of the time, people didn't ask how you were to get your answer, they did it out of politeness. Their facade was just as fake as your own.
But right now, in the moment, you were alone. No one around you asking what was going on or why you were laying in bed, the waterworks only stopping their flow long enough for you to sniffle, and begin again.
Maybe if I cry enough, I'll recreate that one scene in Alice in Wonderland, expect in this darker version, she might drown herself.
Oh yes. That brings me back to the bathtub scenario.
Suicide.
