Fragile

41. Hiking

I fight the urge to pull out my scale. I haven't even been able to see my body in the mirror.

It's way too scary and hard for me. So is eating, but if I don't know how ugly I've gotten, I won't relapse.

I don't want to relapse. I have become so much better by my own actions and Fox's help of course. Therapy does absolutely nothing and I hate every session I have. Fox doesn't know that but it's not important anymore since I don't want to go back to my old habits. I'll do this alone, I can do it alone.

I brush my yellow teeth before walking back to my room, where Fox still sleeps.

It's already ten a.m. but figuring from Fox's eye bags and yawning, he couldn't have been sleeping much. So I decide to let him sleep as long as he needs to, even if it was for a full day.

Walking downstairs as quietly as I can, trying not to wake up anyone else so I could make myself a filling breakfast. It was a stupid habit of mine, trying to hide how much I nowadays ate. It just bugs me for some reason to eat the same amount of food that everyone else does, or even more. And I still hate eating in front of anyone, but I'll get over it. Hopefully.

Two sandwiches, a glass of orange juice and a granola bowl.

That's it. And that makes me want to puke. It looks disgusting, and all the calories in it... gosh there's so many calories. My therapist says I should try to forget about all the calories, but how can I? I can't. What's learned is learned, and I can't just take it off my brain.

But despite the thoughts of how to lose all the calories I am about to eat, I try to concentrate on the good taste of calori- of food I meant.

It's awful. But it gets better at some point. Right?

After eating the two breads, as known as my worst ever fear foods, I feel my breath hitching from panic. I ate so so much, and for breakfast? Calories should be saved for the evening and not wasted in the mornings...

I shake my head to get all the bad thoughts away. I shouldn't think this way. And so to hush my disordered thoughts further away, I face my fears and swallow down the granola. It tastes so sweet, unreal. I'm still not used to eat normally, tasting the flavours and enjoying it. And it's gonna take a while.

As I finish my whole breakfast, trying to ignore all the calories in it, I find my way back to the safety of my room.

11:03 a.m. my clock points at. Shit. I can't believe I really just spent an hour to eat two sandwiches, granola and alongside some orange juice. It gets better overtime, I remind myself.

Fox is still asleep on my bed, looking as calm as ever. I still don't want to wake him up, but I have nothing to do.

Go for a run, go to the scale, starve. How I want to do that. It's almost impossible to resist the temptation, the urge. I just want to stay skinny-

But I can't. It's not healthy. But I don't want to be healthy, I want to be skinny. I curse my thoughts away, once again. This has been going on for the last month, my thoughts just won't fucking leave me alone. Get skinny again, you'll feel so good, you'll love yourself.

I can't let the feelings stop my recovery. No. No. And even though I want to let Fox sleep, I walk over to him and shake him awake.

"Fox?" I ask, angry with myself because I should've let him sleep. Even though he slept over thirteen hours.

Fox jumps up, looking startled. "It's alright, it's just me." I assure him and that finally calms him down.

"Sorry, I just-" he begins to apologise but I shake my head immediately.