Chapter 1
My shorts are stuck to my thighs, leaving me with a sticky feely all over. The overbearing sunbeams shine down on us all, allowing little room to cool down. Our only way out is the cold drinks the waitress brought out for us a few minutes ago. Even though it was so close, my ice cubes are already melting, diluting the coffee I bought.
My friends and I have been hanging out every weekend since I was let out of the hospital. At first it felt like everyone was treading on eggshells trying not to say the wrong thing, but it’s been long enough that the feeling has gone. It’s weird thinking about how much everything has changed since a few months ago, if you had told me all that happened I would’ve laughed in your face. While we sit there chatting, I can sense that small voice in the back of my head reminding me of what I used to think all the time. It’s not easy to tune out, and the conversation around me starts to merge together.
“....are you ok….hello…HELLO?!?”
I look up to see my friend wildly waving her hand in front of my face. She looks like a crazy person. When I meet her eyes, she relaxes and stops the intense waving that was causing my vision to blur. The conversation around us has continued on, it’s almost as though no one else noticed what was going on.
An hour later I ask my friends if they want to go get ice cream, hoping they agree just so I can continue having a break from my thoughts. Immediately, they all say yes, and before I know it we’ve arrived at the ice cream parlour. While we stand in line, the smell of waffles cooking and sugar overwhelms my senses. I feel this giddy sense of excitement as we stand there, the line slowly moving forwards every few seconds. Once I’m at the front, all my other thoughts are put on hold. The sight of the different flavors and bright colours fill me with joy, but I go with my usual order everytime.
We all walk out of the store with our ice creams, the different shades gleaming in the sunshine. I know that any minute now, mine will start to melt, so I begin devouring it as fast as I possibly can. Anything to try and cool down my insides. The piercing feeling of rocky road ice cream has already been diminished from just a few minutes out in the heat. I watch as it slowly thaws itself out, creating little rivers of melted ice cream to run down my hand.
“Guys,” I announce, “this is really good.”
My friends look around at each other and laugh, and I imagine that I probably have it all over my face. I don’t care. For the first time in months, maybe even years, I’m having fun. That is, until one of the girls, Gwynny, decides to ruin it.
“Bro, stop gobbling that up like a little piggy and take some time to breathe oh my god,” she says.
And suddenly, I’m thrown back into the hell I just escaped.
~~~
The sight of food makes me want to start crying, not because it makes me sad but I get so filled with rage that I can’t eat. Why can’t I make the voices in my head just stop? Why does everything just get ruined? What is wrong with me? My parents forced me to eat something tonight, I thought they would’ve noticed sooner. Apparently I’ve been “skipping meals” and “teachers have noticed my negativity”. Haven’t they noticed how skinny I am now? I’ve finally met the standard set out for me and they’re trying to take it away.
I did eat. Or I tried to but the minute my parents left I gave up. I’m not hurting anyone I’m doing better than I ever have before. My body is nice and skinny and no one can make fun of me anymore because they’re too busy asking how I did it. I keep telling myself I’ll stop next time that I can stop at any time I want because I can. I just chose not to. There’s no point in giving up on myself if I’m finally happy, finally pretty, finally belonging in this world. I used to be heavy and fat and ruined, that’s when the thoughts started. I weighed a whopping 140 pounds, and my sports weren’t intense enough to burn it off. Eating wasn’t safe anymore and when I tried the voice would tell me everything that’s wrong. It listed off every single reason why I should just wait a little longer, find something else to do, burn more calories so that if I did eat I’d deserve it. That voice was right, my pinky and thumb can wrap around my wrists now with extra room to spare. I’ve lost almost 60 pounds, and even though I’m sick all the time it’s worth it. In just a few months, I’ve become perfect.
Weeks go by, and the hunger isn’t even noticeable anymore. My friends grow concerned, but I make sure to calm their worries, reminding them that it’s not a big deal. That stupid little voice gets louder and louder, dictating every thought, every emotion, everything that I do or say, and I’m too weak to focus. When I get home every day I crash on my bed and just wonder what it would be like if I was normal.
My mom walks into my room, at least I think she does. It’s hard to tell anymore. She asks me to come help her, something about groceries or dinner or something else. When I reply, she deems it satisfactory and leaves my room. Sighing, I get up and the rest goes black. I hit the ground with a dull thud and my senses quit. The last thing I remember is the sound of my mom running up the stairs, screaming for someone to get help before I’m fully out of it.
~~~
Shoot. What just happened? The sudden voices around me jolt me back to reality. My friends are staring at me, some talking in hushed tones to each other. They stop when I glance at them, but the feeling is still there. Around us, everyone continues their conversations, oblivious to the people around them. I guess we are the same, but I’m grateful that we’re being left alone. It’s easier this way.
That annoying voice is replaying what Gwynny said. It reminds me that maybe, just maybe she’s right. I am eating too much. I’m failing everything I worked so hard for, and the only person who can fix that is me.
My best friend grabs my hand. The slight touch snaps me back to the present, where everyone is glaring at Gwynny.
“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?” One of them demands, while the others look as though they’re about to stab or slap her. “You can’t say things like that, especially not now, not to her, what goes on in your mind? How could you just blurt that out, and then sit there looking proud of yourself, especially after what she’s gone through? EXPLAIN!”
Gwynny, for once in her life, keeps her mouth shut. She stares at the ground with an unreadable expression on her face. It almost feels like she’s regretting what she said, which is surprising. In all the years I’ve known her, she has never felt remorse for her actions. She says what she wants, consequences be damned. I guess no one’s ever spoken up about it either, which only hightens her ability to say what she wishes.
“I…I just was trying to be funny…I didn’t think she’d be so serious about it…” she musters, then takes a deep breath. “You’re all acting like she’s fragile, but who actually cares? I know I sure don’t. If for some reason she feels like doing this type of thing to herself, that’s on her. I’m not taking any responsibility for the mental state of my friend, that’s her problem to figure out.”
We all look at her in shock. Of course this is what happens. “It’s not my fault my brain is like this,” I want to scream. “I didn’t ask for it.” Because I didn’t. I want to be normal again, and forget all those hospital nights and the months in the mental hospitals. If I could get rid of that stupid voice and all the problems it brings, I wouldn’t hesitate. My friends are arguing with Gwynny again, so I whip out my phone and go to my text message app. My therapist’s number is pinned at the top, and I hesitantly start typing.
Me: Hey. I’m out with my friends right now and one girl was trying to be funny but it’s just made me want to starve again. Would I be able to come in later today please?
And I leave it at that. I leave the group too, and walk home. With my phone still in my hand, I block Gwynny’s number and stop bothering with any attempts to fix it. And the little voice, for once, shuts up as I remind myself that it’s going to be ok eventually. But I’ll be even better when people like this are out of my life for good.
