Faded frayed pale blue size two jeans, lifelessly hanging like a corpse. It's been months since they've left the darkness of the closet. New stiff dark navy skinny jeans, double zero, on my legs, hanging perfectly. Counting backwards, 2, 1, 0, 00. Three sizes down and my reflection in the broken mirror has not changed at all. A new scale is desperately needed. Mine tells me 105 pounds, a friend's digital scale says 98. It's better to overestimate though, rather than believe lies. My period is a month late.
I once felt as if I was spilling out of myself, left with just a lonely body; lost and searching for the little pieces that ran away into a mirror and I followed. But now, I'm all here, I think. I function efficiently, I'm aware of my surroundings. I smile, cry, talk. I'm quite certain I deserve to be human again.
Dry crunchy single piece of bread, folded in half, hoping no one sees there's nothing inside, 65 calories. Three grapes. My stomach's learned not to growl anymore. Later, I purge two pieces of chocolate. Meat feels dirty, vegetarianism seems appealing.
The screen flickers metallic light and I see Alex searching in his closet. He hands me a drink, soda he says. It's my very first time, but I realize the strange taste of something, alcohol. We lay stretched out on his bed, me under the covers, cold. My head against his left shoulder, with his right hand, he casually flicks his knife, tossing it expertly. He's one of those inherently fascinating people with crazy stories, a life story more complex than fiction.
I know it can be difficult for us, anyone, to keep a true smile on their face. I'm here, always, if you need some encouragement or if you need a listener. We all need love. I love you all and I hope everyone has a beautiful, lovely day, because each one of you deserves it.
Little Miss Thin
Depressed Skinny Mess
Thin or Not
for all of your support and lovely words.