She sat in the water, letting the days of dirt and stress wash down the drain.
Why couldn't she be happy, normal? What was so wrong with her that she couldn't stay completely happy all day? Why could she only stay happy for a few mere hours? A few hours was getting lucky too. She faked and smiled her way through the day, but sometimes her despair and anxiety showed through. Those days people avoided her. Her best friend left her a lone. That was the last thing she wanted on those days. She needed someone to care and tell her it was going to be okay. It wasn't them she was mad at, it was herself.

     She was confused. Her mother tells her to share her emotions and what she is thinking, but then yells at her for crying and "self - pitying." What the heck is she supposed to do?
She figured it was best to just shut up and not say anything.
All of her pain bubbled inside her swirling in a world of estranged sadness. She didn't let go till these times in the shower or going to sleep.
The best way to let go was to let it all out.
     Except, she wasn't letting go, she was still shutting herself up; temporarily removing the distress. She found peace - as much as she still despised it - in the process of release. She could be broken down in tears, shuddering, and empty and that little sharp piece of metal provided so much comfort. Sudden calm would just wash over her.
     It was horrible, she knew. It’s not as if she was proud of it. She couldn't wear bikinis, shorts, or tank tops. She couldn't be normal. This was a mistake that will affect her whole life. She couldn't take it back. It was as if she was addicted, though.

     Darlene submerged her hair in the tinged bath water, wishing she could just drift away. This feeling was a weird one that she couldn’t explain. She had tried to explain it to her best friend, that feeling of dread and hate against herself. Her friend said she understood, but Darlene knew she didn't. This wasn't just any other "normal" sad feeling you get, it built up day by day and overwhelmed her. This was something indescribable, and past the perception conceivably possible for those who did not experience it.

     One could suppose that's why Darlene had that secret account on the web.
It was a whole network of people just like her, who had eating disorders, who self harmed, and who were depressed. She branched out in the website and connected with individuals who gave her comfort. She preferred these kinds of people because she knew they had felt that way before, they could be feeling it at that moment, or could have overcome the incredible feat of winning over their issues. They could offer advice that worked, and that was value-able.  She formed a deep bond with some, even though she had never met them. She told this one, Angel, everything. She shared everything from her school day, to how many calories she ate. Angel did the same. They were both depressed, but they made each other laugh and gave each other a glimmer of hope.
     Darlene had gone to message her friend as any other night; Only there was a different conversation in hand this time. The last message received left Darlene frangible.
     “I’m sorry. Goodbye.”

     Night after night, Darlene fought herself, even more than usual not to diminish the pills in the medicine cupboard. All those pills would have been so easy to access, so easy to over dose on.  She couldn't tell anybody, and couldn't share, otherwise they would know about what a freak she was.
The only thing that stopped Darlene was the desire to go on for her dear friend.

     Darlene sat in the tub months later contemplating this. The bubbles were starting to run thin, the water was running cold, and her fingers were wrinkled.
She ran her hand over her legs feeling her scars from months ago, still pink and bumpy.
She wondered how she allowed herself to get like this, allowed herself to become the person she said she would never be.

     She rinsed the last bubbles of lathered shampoo down her back and reached for the faucet. She turned off the water and opened the shower door, only to see the blatant image of a fresh faced girl looking back at her.
This girl was decent looking, big brown eyes, petite nose, full lips, a soft round face. The stranger girl had long flowing wet hair that dripped gently across her round bust, a small waist, and nice curvaceous hips. Yet, she was still skinny, her collarbones popped out in a gentle sloping way, and her ribs - already showing through her transparent skin - slowly seemed to become more apparent day by day. The girls hip bones popped too, a gentle slope rising from her flat stomach.
     Darlene kept looking, hoping to see more of this pretty girl, but she blinked and the mirage disappeared. She began to see a double chinned thing staring at her. This monster had bags under its eyes, and arms that flared out with fat, breasts that where a sickly pale and saggy, a stomach that protruded in an unpleasant chubby way. The legs were nightmarish; they had cellulite and were the size of an elephant's legs. She saw an ugly, pathetic, fat disaster looking at her. Darlene's knees went week as she felt her side hit the bottom of the cold tub as she dissolved to tears.
     She couldn't stand it; others didn't seem to understand the pain it caused her to look in the mirror. Sometimes people would make her stare at herself, and they would try to make her see how beautiful she was. It didn't work, Darlene's mind could only see this deformed abstract monster. Some days it would change, and the c***-eyed wench would change into a half decent human being. Nonetheless, still no where close to societies form of perfect, but better than the monster.
She would lose three pounds every week but gain it all back on the weekends. She would binge purge for days in a row, causing her self image to get bigger unimaginably fast.
Then she would fast. Not eat , at least as little as she could. It was difficult getting away with dinner. She never ever ate breakfast, unless someone stood over her to ensure she ate it. It was an easy meal to skip, just say she didn't have time, or make herself run late for school. Coffee was the closest she ever usually came to breakfast.
     Lunch was incredibly easy also. Even if somebody packed her something she just had to throw it away. Her friends grew concerned and would offer up their own food, and she would politely say no because “She wasn't hungry.” However, showing up every day without food was weird, so she began heading to tutoring sessions or working on homework. It meant less social time, but if she didn't have to eat and worry other people, it was okay.
     Dinner was always a whole charade. Sometimes she would come without arguing and just quietly fill up a small portioned plate and eat it. Some nights she fought down to the core, insisted she wasn't hungry; only for Darlene to be harsh unto others the rest of the night. Sometimes she would calmly ask to take it to her room to work on home work, then carefully throw it away or flush it down the toilet. Sometimes she just slept through dinner; she was constantly tired of food.  
   She would starve herself, or she would over load, and go back for thirds, fourths, fifths, sixths... Then she would proceed to eat a bag of potato chips, a tub of ice cream and anything else that she could get her hands on.
      With her stomach in physical pain, and nearly in tears from what she did, she would then purge.

     These nights were the absolute worst, these nights would trigger multiple other nights toward a binge purge cycle, and her self harm seemed to reach an extreme.

She had always wondered what she exactly looked like. Every-body perceived things differently, and spoke things differently. However, even though somebody may be truthfully telling her what they see, she felt as if they were lying. She could look only moment later in the mirror and what they were describing was obviously not there. She was ugly, not pretty. She could see it herself. At least that was what she thought.