I'm cold

Chapter one

Fay lay still in her bed, facing the ceiling Her room was dark and warm. The orange glow from the street lamp glared through the gap in between her curtains. The ceiling was a cream colour and Fay looked at every spec of dirt that stood out to her. Such small things that each had their own individual shape. it was only coincidental that she noticed them, and here she was, thinking so deeply about dust.

Fay only started to notice the dust when she was dragged out of her thoughts from hunger. She was laying on her bed for the past hour, still and emotionless. She felt so heavy and empty. She thought about how she couldn't remember the last time she smiled, or laughed, or was happy. It all felt like such a distant memory now. So far in the past, yet she yearned for it back. She wanted to be able to look forward to the next day. She wanted to smile and laugh with friends that she no longer had. She wanted to find things that she once found fun, enjoyable again.

She sensed this feeling of loneliness appearing when she turned 14. She suddenly started to hate everything about herself. She hated the way her face was shaped. She hate the way her stomach wasn't flat, the way her thighs were fatty, the way her legs were too long, the way her hair looked like a bird's nest, the way she embarrassed herself when ever she talked, the way she couldn't understand anything in school, and so, so much more.

She felt like she should hate herself like everyone around her already does.

Soon enough, it felt so much easier to stay in bed all day and do nothing. She could distract herself with TV shows instead of doing homework. She could sleep or go on her phone instead of meeting up with friends. She didn't want to get up anymore. She didn't want to eat or shower or clean her room. It all felt like so much effort now. She would get tired so easily.

She didn't want to die either. It wasn't that exactly. She just wanted all the pain to go away. She wanted to sleep for along time. She wanted to love herself, and be loved. But this was a list of wants that she wasn't going to get. How did she expect to be able to love such a disgusting person like herself? How did she expect someone to love her and hold her when she cant even love herself?

This whole life thing felt pointless. So she stopped living. She stopped doing daily things that she should be doing. She wouldn't eat all day in a hope to be skinnier, then when midnight hit she would raid the kitchen for food. She didn't really need to shower if she wasn't leaving the house. Everyone already hated her anyway so no one would care if she smelled worse that usual.

When her mam did make her get up and go to school some days, she needed 2 coffees before she could even get dressed. She would through on the same dirty tracksuit pants and hoodie before heading out the door to one of her most hated places on earth. She would walk around the halls alone, or even sit in the bathroom or library at lunch now that her old friends stopped talking to her. Sometimes she would just leave school after a few classes and go home to her bed again.

Her bedroom was her only safe place. No one went in there so she could be alone. It was very, very messy but she was the only one sleeping it so it didn't bother her as much as it probably should.

She had her highs and lows, as everyone does. But her lows were very low, and her highs were very short. She could stay in bed for weeks, not shower, stay in the same clothes, barely eat, etc.. But then some random night, usually after lots of caffeine, she will get a sudden burst of motivation were she will attempt to do something for once. Maybe clean her room, maybe cut her hair, maybe just shower. These short burst of energy don't last long before she's back in bed on her phone scrolling through tiktok and Instagram.

She gets sick of everything sometimes. She gets sick of feeling so empty, lifeless, insecure, sad in general. And then she does something terrible to herself to try and help ease the pain. She has her razors or she has her pills. She has written too many goodbye notes to her family. She has bled too much blood. She has vomited up too many pills.

She just wants it to stop.

She thinks back to when she was happy. Can she ever feel like that again?

Maybe in the future. But for now she crawls under the duvet and turns on her phone.