What happens when you try to help someone, but realize you can’t? Even when you have attempted everything, even if you did your best, even if she is your best friend. Amanda couldn’t comprehend what she was going through, since one of the symptoms already is denial. She had anorexia.
Amanda and I used to be good friends. We saw each other every weekend, and stayed over at both our houses. We were truly happy, but she began changing when she was close to entering middle school. Amanda was overly excited about going, and she aspirated to be a cheerleader. I remembered how we joked about those girls, and I couldn’t believe she was aiming for that. Then she set her mind on preparing for it. She enrolled in gymnastics, exercised most of the time, and ate less every passing week. Her mother was encouraging her to slack off and eat more, but it got to the point where she “wasn’t hungry” and doing crunches in her spare time. Amanda kept telling herself and others around her that she was fat: her belly was fat, her thighs were fat, every inch of her was FAT! I kept telling her that she was slipping into anorexia, but she wouldn’t listen, that I shouldn’t worry.
Suddenly I came to realize that it was too late when we went for a swim at her pool. She was wearing a bikini, making her body visible, and I could see what she had done to herself. Her ribs were clearly visible, and she kept on cheerfully repeating that her pelvic bones were visible. It was unbearable. Even her doctor had insisted on telling her to eat more. I did too; every single time I saw her I told her to ingest food more often. She wouldn’t listen to me, or the thousands who have died from anorexia. I was scared for her. Very scared.
I had to leave the country for six months, because I moved temporarily. I barely spoke to Amanda through e-mail, and when I did, it was a mere exchange of slang and colloquial language. After some time, I moved back. I was happy to see her again, but not for long. Her anorexia was apparently gone, but it had left huge scars in her past and present. Her hair is weak and dry, and her mind turned conceited and empty. All she talks about now are boyfriends, guys, and kissing. She’s twelve, for crying out loud! Amanda changed, for the worse. I think I may have lost a friend.
This isn’t supposed to be a happy-ending story. Sometimes there’s just no way you can really help someone. I tried, but I couldn’t. That doesn’t mean you should follow my example. Keep on helping others, even when you know it’s no good; keep going, since my story does not apply to everyone.