#8

141.

you think for a moment you're still dreaming, trapped in another nightmare. you blink down at the scale and wait for the real number, the right number. when it doesnt change, reality hits you and your heart almost stops...

no. no no no no please god no, that can't be right, this isn't happening... you step back off the scale, watch the dial snap to 0, and step back on...

the deadhungryangry ghosts are mad mad mad. they whirl around you in a winter-shadow cloud, and their whispers have turned to screams.

FAT. FAILURE. WEAK. GROSS. PIG. PIG FUCKING PIG. UGLY. FAILURE. UGLY.

2 days ago, you were 134. the lowest you've ever been, even below you're first goal (135). that was the day your friend took you to lunch at applebees. your stupidweakstupid brain told you why you should eat, spitting lies like 'you deserve this. you've come so far. one meal won't kill you. it will help, your body needs this. you don't have to eat all of it. you deserve this.' so you caved.

you purged 5 times by the end of that day. one meal and all control was lost. the next morning, you had gained 3 pounds. you promised yourself you would fix it, not eat that day. but you crashed again. and this time, you physically couldn't throw it up, even after trying till your face swelled and your throat bled...

7 pounds in 2 days. that's not supposed to be possible. your body wants to be huge, fat, disgusting. your body is plotting against you. your body is trying to ruin you.

you want to carve yourself out of this body and bury it in the backyard.

no one sees your tears on the bus to school. but its ok. you're used to being invisible.

~JH