Author: GloriousChaos PM
Just another teenage girl struggling with her eating disorder. This is going to be kind of an autobiography, and kind of fiction.Rated: Fiction T - English - Hurt/Comfort/Angst - Chapters: 3 - Words: 874 - Reviews: 2 - Follows: 1 - Updated: 12-21-12 - Published: 12-11-12 - id: 3082158
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
AN: Hi, guys! This is my first time writing something that's not Fanfiction, or a school essay, so please bear with me. I really hope people can connect with this story, so let me know if you like it! Critique wanted :-)
People always talk really loudly. Have you noticed it? No one knows how to whisper anymore, now that they can just text each other. I feel like a whisper, though. People know of me, but no one ever needs me.
I got out of bed and stripped off my pajamas, shuffling towards the bathroom. I flicked on the light and squinted at the mirror. Is that really me? Since when am I that zombie-esque? Ilooked away, and stepped on the scale.
Not good enough. I knew I shouldn't have eaten that roll with dinner. I bit my lip and stepped into the shower. As I watched the water fall down and roll off my skin, I began to explore my body. I softly touch my collarbones, tracing the hollows that have formed. My hands ghost down my breasts to my ribs, where I finger the spaces between the bones. I reach lower and I lightly massage my hipbones. I can do this. I can become invisible.
I stepped out of the shower and dried myself off, looking at the foggy mirror. My body was blurry, but that was good. It meant I didn't need to see myself, not really. Who ever sees themselves for who they are, anyway? We always strive to better ourselves, sure, but we don't really know who we are or what we look like.
But the mirror does.
I wiped at the mirror with my towel, so that I could see my face. Hazel eyes, straight nose, dark pink lips. My hair was knotted on top of my head, and I looked tired.
So, so tired.
After I brushed my teeth, I walked out of the bathroom and looked in my closet. I pulled out a hoodie four sizes to big and some sweat pants. I grabbed some underwear from my 'clean' hamper and got dressed. I will be weightless. I will be perfect.
I will be beautiful.
I left a note for my mom to read when she woke up that I was going for a walk, and I left the house.
The time was 5:45 a.m. I was 14. It was still dark outside as I began my morning exercise.
I wanted to be perfect.
But perfect kills.
AN: Alright, so! First chapter! That was harder than I expected, and doesn't flow too well. But when you're me, what does?