Fragile

32. Back to school

I will never eat again. I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself so so so so much. So much it hurts to breathe. My lungs feel fat, stomach feels fat and it aches, brain feels fat, legs, arms, fingers, neck, cheeks. All feels fat. Everything is fat.

My fingers annoy the back of my throat, sending an awful shiver down my spine. My throat was hoarse and my cheeks hurting from puking all morning.

Fucking 103 pounds. I gained four pounds in one night. I hate myself.

I will not eat until I'm at least ninety. To be honest, eighty sounded a lot better actually.

But no matter how hard I try, nothing comes up my throat anymore, my digestion had already started its process as I slept the horrors away. The horrors as known as binging.

I felt like killing myself now. How could I do this to myself? All the hard work, for nothing? 

For absolutely nothing?

I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself.

***

As Monday rolls around, mom has stopped her worried glances. Her gullible attitude doesn't want to believe that her own daughter could suffer from something so stupid as this.

I snatch a granola bar from the counter and mom looks pleased at that. "Remember to eat." She says.

"Of course." I smile, but it doesn't reach my eyes. Remember was a wrong word. Maybe she knows that I don't forget to eat, maybe she just wants to believe so. If she believes that, it'd be easier for her to deal with my starving.

But I was too heavy and I couldn't stop anymore. I needed to be at least 90 and there was no backing up anymore.

"Do you mind if we go to have dinner with Dahlia?" I lie, but it brings out a smile on my mother's lips.

"Not at all, go have fun." She says.

"Thanks, we will." I smile and turn to leave.
"Bye!" I yell before shutting the door behind me.

I begin my running as soon as my house disappears from my sight. My head feels a bit uneasy and leg's unstable but I don't care. I just needed to lose the extra weight I'd put on with so much hard work. Otherwise my hard work would be for nothing and it felt like a betrayal and waste.

I quickly dump the granola bar into someone's  dumpster, not caring if it was a bad thing to do. During the weight loss phase I had become really good at the not caring part.

My legs hurt, but I don't stop running until my heart feels like exploding from exhaustion. It annoys me to stop losing so many calories, but my legs give up and I collapse in the middle of the road. Embarrassment fills my cheeks as I try to gather my strength, praying to gods that nobody else took this path.

My arms find their strength somewhere between the minutes I just lie on my back, which is hurting from all the little rocks beneath me, and watch the spring filled sky. Birds were flying above and soft breeze felt good against my skin. I let myself rest for a few minutes, which turns into a good ten minute-rest.

I finally clutch myself halfway up with my hands, but stop at the very lightheaded feeling my head gives me. It fills my brain, my mind, everything in me and I feel something rising up my throat.

Vomit leaves my mouth and onto the ground, me twisting my body just enough for it not to hit my clothes.

I've never felt worse, I think. Never in this whole starvation and purging and hurting myself. Something felt very wrong with me right now.