Author: Jessiboo PM
I hate summaries :/Rated: Fiction M - English - Angst/Hurt/Comfort - Words: 1,137 - Reviews: 1 - Favs: 1 - Follows: 1 - Updated: 01-11-12 - Published: 01-01-12 - id: 2984464
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Just pull me in
And let me drown
I won't resist
Or make a sound.
I am yours to hold
I am yours to keep.
You have me now
Don't ever leave.
Her thoughts are nothing. She knows this. They aren't her own, and they are definitely not what she really wants to feel. She wants to feel everything, yet nothing at all. Trapped in her own mind with no way to escape, they push on her, dragging her underwater and drowning her. She doesn't know what happened. Where did the smiles go? Where did the laughter go? Where are the dreams that once filled her head? Where are the feelings she used to feel before they took over?
She lost herself many times before. The day 6 years ago when she picked up that blade and ran it along her wrist, her head spinning from the sudden rush. The day 4 years ago she first leaned over the toilet and jammed her fingers painfully down her throat, purging herself of all feeling. The day 4 years ago she decided not to eat, maintaining the empty feeling she has become accustomed to. The day 3 years ago she lost the only real friend she had due to her own selfish actions…
She isn't sure anymore whether or not these days built her into who she is now, breaking down her old self into an unrecognizable form. Maybe she always had this dark side of her, and her happiness was just hiding it all.
How many death threats and begs for suicide had this girl heard by the time she was fifteen? At least a dozen, and there were more to come. She never quite understood what she did so wrong to them to deserve this beating. She would laugh it off, pretend it didn't hurt, but inside it was killing her.
She was an easy target. She wasn't very smart, she wasn't very outgoing, and she wasn't very strong. She was a loner, and the only things she ever did was write and read. She was scared of the world, and scared of herself. She had no real talents, and her voice never seemed to work quite right. She would pick the seat at the back of the class in hopes she wouldn't be called on to answer.
She still sits here, broken and unsure of what to do. She has allowed new people into her life that can control the things she can't seem to on her own. They control every thought, every action, every decision, every bite. These people fight, disagreeing on most things, but one thing they agree on is controlling her. One person is in this girl's head, and one in her heart.
She doesn't remember how to feel as herself or make her own decisions. Her life is out of her hands. Her dreams are invalid, and her hopes have been buried.
She used to tell herself that she would prove them wrong. That she would hold her head up and smile one day. That she was better than what she was doing, and that she could stop when she reached perfection.
She never realized that perfection is unattainable and she now feels that she doesn't deserve more than what she is doing to herself. She is too scared to go for help, and no one will help her because she has become good at hiding it. She smiles and puts on a show to help fake perfection.
She remembers being little, pulling at her hair and scratching at her legs when things weren't going quite right. She remembers the faces of the kids in her classes, whispering and chuckling at her beat up clothes. She remembers the dread she would feel in the hallway, wondering which wall she would be pushed into, her books digging into her side. On an unlucky day, it would be a locker, or getting pushed down stairs. She remembers hiding away in her room, trying to avoid a drunken man's angry yells and insults. She remembers crying every night and wishing that someone would take her from her home.
She remembers the first time she pulled the blade across her wrist. She was told earlier in the day to just go home and kill herself because no one wanted her around. Her first thought was to cut in as deep as possible and let it all be over. But that didn't happen. Instead, just from the first nick she felt her head rush and an odd sense of relief. Cutting became her new best friend. She was twelve. She looks at every scar and can tell the story behind them.
She remembers the first day she didn't eat. She woke up, feeling awful and gross, and thought that she could lose even more weight by replacing her food with exercise. Her diet wasn't working well enough, and she couldn't lose quite enough weight to be the vision she wished to see. She cut her calorie intake from 500 a day to 350 every two days. She felt empty, free, and lightheaded. She was losing weight well, but it never seemed good enough. She was fourteen.
She remembers the first time she made herself vomit. She had broken her strict rules, and she ate a little too much. By a little, I mean a lot. She was crying, and no punishment seemed good enough, no workout seemed hard enough. She had to get rid of it. She leaned over a trash can in her room, and shoved her fingers down her throat. It took her a while, and after many tears, a headache, and a sore throat, she had accomplished what she set out to do. She let her dizziness overtake her and embraced it, the music she was blasting made her feel at peace for once.
She remembers her first real relationship. They met when she was fifteen, started to live together when she was seventeen and are still going strong. Within months, he found out her secrets and forced her to change, and she did, for a while. Every time she got caught cutting, or purging, or not eating, she learned better ways to hide it. He always knew though, and would force her into eating regularly. He wasn't around often, and when he would be gone she would easily slip back into her old ways. He knew how to get to her. He would threaten to tell certain people, which scared her to death. She still manages to hide things, but it's harder on her since he has been home more. She is gaining weight again, and hating every minute of it.