Why do I do this? Why can't I see myself for the way everyone else sees me? A little voice in the back of my head tells me it’s because only I can see myself for the way I am. It tells me how fat I am. Getting louder and louder until it's screaming at the top of its lungs in my ears. But there’s no one here. I can't take this anymore. I want it to stop!
So I do what it asks of me. Suddenly before I can even register what it wants me to do, the toilet bowl is filled with my insides. I told everyone I was okay. But what if i'm not? What if I want to be like this?
I scramble to get up and flush the contents down as I hear a knock on the door. I open the door and turn to the sink. Gotta make it look real right? I hear a mumble as I wash my hands. Guess i'm still out of it. I just nod and try to tell the person there that I’ll be down in a minute. The morning passed in a blur, and lunch soon comes. I sit at the table with my friends. None of them talk to me. They talk to each other. I know I shouldn’t complain as I don’t try to engage in the conversation. But it would be nice to have someone talk to me.
I wonder what they talk about when i'm not around. Do they talk about dresses, or stuff that i'm not interested in? Do they talk more about the things they have in common? Do they talk about people? Do they talk about me?
Do they talk about me behind my back like they talk talk behind other peoples back to my face? Do they not like me? I feel a sudden wave of something wash over me. I don't know what it is.
Maybe sadness, maybe betrayal? I can't tell the difference between a lot of emotions. All I know is that I want to leave, and I want to leave right now. I don't care that I haven't eaten. Just one less thing to take care of later.
With that thought I leave. I leave with everything of mine still on the table. I hear bewildered voices calling out but it can't be for me. No one cares about me enough to call out after me.
I don't even realise where i’m going until i'm already there. I'm in the girls restroom. But there is no urge. Only fleeting thoughts that are there one second and gone before they even gain the ability to speak. Meaning to say how horrible of a person I am and how I only deserve pain and nothing good. So I stop fighting and let the panic settle and make a home through my bones. Shaking my foundation to the very core to make it theirs. Soon enough they take over and I can no longer see the home I made. Or at all for that matter.
I start to come to and realise almost immediately where I am. I'm in a hospital laying in one of their beds. I hate it here. They look at me like i'm wasting their time. But I didn't ask them to bring me here. I didn't ask them to take care of me. I didn't ask for any of this to be happening. I hate this!
I know what comes next. They are going to talk to me about therapy again like I have a choice in the matter. My parents aren’t even here. They don’t care anymore.
As they talk to me I start thinking about a time when everything was much more simple and I didn’t have such disastrous thoughts plague my head daily. Where you knew who was going to save you and who was going to hurt you. When we didn’t know the real monsters lived inside our heads. When fairy tales and happy endings were real and everyone got one. You just had to wait your turn. How naive we all were.
Maybe I want to be like this. Not for the attention, but because this can punish me when I can't punish myself. Because I deserve it. Maybe I was never supposed to be happy. Maybe happily ever afters don't exist. Or maybe, I just don't deserve mine.