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Out Of Hungerland
float away. Sitting on the carpet floor, pain finally morphed into numbness. My butt was numb--lack of fat cushion. My face, too--uncontrolled production of tears. My mind, most of all, was apple at five, 80, black coffee at seven, 0. round up, 100. The room was dark. I could just barely see the outline of my tree at the corner of my window. Oh, how I wished to be that tree. is it mine? Naked of its leaves, knotted and twisted all over. Dancing with truth and elegance to the powers of the wind. it can't be zero...maybe 30. Beautiful and fragile. dead. The day, like every other, motioned through its established route. I didn't follow that route. Hours crawled by and I hadn't moved from my gorilla-like posture. I had tasks to do. I had too many tasks to do. My workout wasn't complete yet. four miles, 387--round down, 300. three more left. The biology worksheet I procrastinated on for 2 weeks still wasn't complete. White, clean. No trace of flawed penmanship never good enough; free of meaningless markings that never could accomplish their purpose. Unblemished, perfect. want. No. A sloppy erase stain mocked me. Every Saturday night at 8 I use to study biology with my dad. I knew the information inside and out. I know nothing. I answered the first question with precise, accurate information. wait. I over analyze everything. it could be better. Nothing was working towards my advantage. Especially the pencil I used. It was a bitch, refusing to let me change the past and start from a clean slate. impossible. My attempt at hiding my error turned into a disaster. my life. The worksheet was now a defected. well deserved. I gave up on that.
useless piece of s***.
I zoned back into reality or a nightmare. Across the vast room, my windows were filled with a calm assuring darkness; a black abyss. I surrender. My room was cold. My feet and hands felt like death. It was that feeling that synthesized a smile on my passionless face. I wrapped my right hand over my left wrist. thick. My thumb easily rested on the top knuckle of my middle finger. apple at five, 100, black coffee at seven, 35. I repeated this test at the 5 notches on my arm. frozen pain melted red. I did this routinely, maybe even automatically.
At the top of my arm, I squeezed. I squeezed until the bruised ring under my bony fingers could no longer take the agony from my self-destructive grip. apple at five, 160, black coffee at seven, 42. The tips of my thumb and middle finger shyly brushed one another. useless piece of s***. I switched hands and proceeded to test my right arm. no good.
My thigh test was next. I placed both of my hands, each hand in the shape of a "C," around the highest point of my right thigh. My two hands met, some fingers even overlapping their complements. thunder thighs. After testing my left thigh, my protruding knees sank to the floor. Looking down, I could see the rough beige carpet between my thighs. apple at five, 162, black coffee at seven, 47. That prominent gap plugged up a small piece of my desire for...83, almost there...My eyes were fastened to my jello thighs. fasting. I didn't know what prompted my eyes to stay stapled to my thighs. My thighs, indefinable by the naked eye, drowned in my size 10 Abercrombie Kids jeans. bones. My secrets, my truths'carved into my skin; they hid under my baggy clothes, yellowed furry skin, and convincing deceptions and were proudly concealed in my spirit. They knew, though. Family members, friends, and even strangers. They knew. Everyone knew. but they don't.
I had to finish the rest of my examination. My body ached and silently moaned as I struggled to my skeletal feet. closer closer closer. My physical state's distress soothed my mentality. 82. The pain was a good sign. Before I knew it, I was stuck in front of my deceiving, yet honest, reflection. stick. I analyzed. Lifting up my yellow Nike hoodie, I traced each individual rib bone. I closed my eyes and retraced. almost. My eyes opened, but my rational mind was still disconnected. I turned to the side. disappearing. Like a sheer line, my torso vanished and all that was left was a pile of sharp bones. I had worked hard for those bones. concave. Water fasts, diet pills, purges--all worth it.
thighs don't touch. ribs uncovered. hip bones poke out. collar bone protruding.
With eyes shut, I confidently stepped onto the scale
not good enough. never. failure. ever.
I cracked. My breathing turned heavier. worthless. My mind started racing without a single logical thought. inadequate. Unruly tears violently charged out of my innocent eyes. can't do- I snatched that damn scale and hurled it at my tiled shower wall -it. Shattered pieces everywhere...me. Hell continued to leak through my world. Chaos contaminated...
By then I was shivering on the ground. Not because of the temperature, but because...useless piece of s***. I scuffled off the cluttered floor. In the mirror, I saw blood streaming out of a faint horizontal line right above my wrist'vertical and it'd be game over'for good. My skin, which was yellow and hairy just minutes ago due to being "emaciated"'lies'was now ghost white. My eyes. a little bit closer. My eyes were no longer brown. They were black'lifeless.
My mind and body instantly relaxed.
I calmly walked down to my kitchen. they shouldn't be back until morning
I headed straight to the
I opened the cabinet door and
so close I can taste it.
I kept on swallowing more. The rattling sound
Twisted knots in my stomach and I'm tumbling down,
Wondering when I'll reach my destination, yet not
Wanting to be through with this.
Reasons mean nothing,
Time is too slow.
Days go by and I'm coasting on caffeine and
The racing of my mind
I will fall further and further
Down the rabbit hole,
Swallowing only air.
good bye delicate disaster.
I woke up to 5 pairs of horrified eyes. No one said a word. I knew what had happened. I knew what didn't happen. I knew where I was. I knew what was going to happen. I knew.
fight or cooperate
life or death
happiness or hell
"A, we can only help you if you let us..."
nothing or everything
"...so what's it going to be?"