Miss Not Perfectly Fine

Change

TW: the previous chapters only mentioned eating disorder behaviors but this one will have self harm as well.

I hear someone knock on my door. I don't say anything. We got back from the Grammys 20 minutes ago. I took my hair out, changed out of my dress and into my pjs, and now, I was just laying in my bed.

"Sky, I'm coming in," I hear from the other side of the door. It's Taylor. I sigh and roll over so that I'm not face to face with Taylor when she comes in. "How are you feeling?" She sits on my bed and gently rubs my back. Again, I don't answer her. "You must be really tired. I'm gonna give you space tonight. We'll talk tomorrow, okay?" Taylor says. She leans over and gives me a kiss on the side of my head. "Goodnight Sky, I love you so much." She says and walks out of my room.

After I hear my door close, I start to sob quietly. At this point, my body has digested too much that throwing up won't really do anything. I feel gross and defeated and numb. I hate myself so much.

I decide to weigh myself. I walk over to my bathroom and pull my scale out. I take a deep breath and step on it.

101.2 lbs

Damn it. My plan was to be under 100 by today. I was going to reach that goal but things didn't go quite as planned tonight. I lift up my shirt and look in the mirror. My ribs are visible and my stomach looks flat. Not flat enough though. It might not be obvious to everyone else but I could clearly see the weight that I gained tonight. I sit on the floor and start sobbing. I made sure to stay quiet though so that Taylor doesn't come in.

Suddenly, I feel the need to feel something. Anything. I start scratching myself for no reason. It felt nice at first. But the pleasure didn't last. I needed to find something else or I will actually lose it. My eyes land on a razor.

No. Skylar, don't do it. Taylor's going to be sad. Do not do it.

I tell myself. Mom and dad and Austin would be sad too. But I'm the closest with Taylor. She worries about me the most. Probably because she knows the most.

I try to take my mind off of the razor but the more I try not to think about it, the stronger my urge gets.

Just once. That's it. Just this once.

The bad side of my brain tells me.

No, it'll scar forever. Taylor's going to find out. Don't do it. Don't give in this time.

The good side of my brain tells me. I know what the right choice is. I always know what the right choice is. But my bad side knows how to overpower my good side. It's always been like that.

Before I know it, I find myself breaking my razor to get the blade out. I hold it in my hand, just staring at it for a second.

Is this really the right thing? No. But it's something. It'll make me feel better, right?

I slowly bring it to my left thigh.

I deserve this anyway. I ate a lot today and I made Taylor sad. I deserve it.

The blade and my skin make contact. I slide it across my thigh and watched as blood started coming out. It hurt like hell. But I felt alive. It also felt weirdly calming to see the cut.

I go for another cut. Then another. Then another. Before I knew it, there were 8 thin cuts at the top of my left thigh, all bleeding. I stopped after my eighth one though, since my skirt nor my shorts would be long enough to cover them if I went any further.

I decide to clean up the blood before it started dripping onto my bathroom floor. I wiped off the blood and pressed a paper towel on my cuts until it was barely bleeding.