Why do I do it?
I have absolutely no idea.
Why do I love her?
It would take too long to explain.
And why do I hate myself?
It’s actually quite obvious…
I cringed as the food went past me.
How do the people eat this stuff?
I flinched when she sat down next to me.
And then realized it was her, and smiled.
I did all three when I caught my reflection in her phone.
Why does she stand to look at me?
Once again, she asked why I wasn’t eating.
And once again, I told her I had a big breakfast and wasn’t that hungry.
She gave me a look, before taking a bite out of her pizza.
She knew.
I sighed and scratched my pencil along the cover of my beat up notebook.
I called it my personal little Raggedy Anne.
Lunch can be amazingly boring when you can’t eat.
“You should come over this weekend, love, my mom might actually be nice and say yes.”
I grinned and nodded, feeling the ecstasy of her calling me love course through my veins.
Wait, why did I even care?
“Victory, why are you not eating?”
I hadn’t even realized I was pushing my chicken around on my plate instead of chewing it.
That’s what I was doing in my mind. I was eating it slowly, savoring the juices of the marinade on my tongue, reveling in the feeling of it spreading its warmth through my stomach.
I shrugged, making the terrible excuse of not being in the mood for chicken.
My dad raised an eyebrow, before looking at my chicken and back to me, telling me to eat it or go to my room.
I chose the first option, and threw it down my throat, hardly even bothering to chew, washing it down with big gulps of my tea, obediently throwing my peas and a roll down my esophagus as well.
My mom took surprise in my hasty eating, while my dad grinned before going back to his meal.
Quietly excusing myself, I ran to my bathroom and stuck the handle of my toothbrush down my throat.
Feeling the entire meal burn away my teeth.
On the way to my friend’s house, I stared out the window and thought.
Thought about how every time I saw her, my stomach leaped.
Thought about how every time she spoke to me, I couldn’t focus on anything else.
Thought about how every time we were together, everything and everyone, faded away.
And thought about how skinny I was.
How well you could see my ribs and spine.
The secret I was keeping from her, and myself.
I couldn’t admit that I had an “eating disorder.”
I just couldn’t do it.
I couldn’t admit I had a “problem.”
It hurt too much.
In my mind, I just ate as little as possible.
And when I had too, I puked it back up.
That was normal, wasn’t it?
Perfectly, absolutely, positively, normal.
Normal.
I smiled at my parents and ran out the car up to her door.
Doing a little happy dance as I waited for her to answer.
“Love!”
My smile grew wider as she wrapped her arms around me and I returned the favor,
Feeling the same feeling in my stomach and the rest of her house go hazy.
I looked over at her, typing away, before standing to get changed into my pajamas.
It was three in the morning after all.
I wasn’t thinking when I stood and pulled my shirt over my head.
I only stopped when I heard her gasp, choked by tears.
My body shook as she stood, clutching her hands in front of her face,
Staring at my emaciated stomach.
Her cold hands traced my bones as warm tears fell behind them.
I looked down, ashamed. Not wanting to see her face.
“Vict-Why? Why?”
My heart convulsed as I looked away, wrapping my arms around my stomach tightly.
Tears fell in sync with hers onto the dark carpet.
“I just wanted to fly.”
My whispered words confused her, and I could see this.
But I wouldn’t tell her what I meant.
But instead, she didn’t speak another word.
She didn’t ask a single question.
She just took me in her arms
And held me there until I
Finally broke down.
Sobbing into her
Shoulder.
I didn’t feel weak when I did.
I didn’t feel worthless from crying.
I wasn’t ashamed, or embarrassed, or disappointed,
I was just happy to be able to finally cry.
Her body pressed against mine, gave me hope.
Why, I had no idea, but it did.
Hope that I could eat again.
Enjoy the wonderful feeling I had been imagining for so long.
Hope that I could finally fly one day.
Without having to starve myself to do so.
Hope that I could maybe, finally, admit it.
And not have her run away.
My conscience and my heart battled over my judgment.
My heart was beating rapidly, over the moon with my sudden optimism.
And my conscience was scolding me for thinking, nonetheless believing, that such trivial hopes could ever happen.
But as I thought, as I felt her body against mine, her words in my ear, and her heart’s own musical beat, I realized, this was it. I couldn’t keep denying it any longer.
I had a problem, an eating problem.
An eating…disorder.
Tears fell from my eyes once more and she immediately put more effort into her calming words, speaking them
faster and occasionally pressing her lips to my collarbone, making my skin shiver in excitement.
I guess she noticed, because she asked if I was cold.
My smile grew from non-existent to biggest in the world in a split second, as I shook my head no and went back to hug
her, walking over to the bed with my arms still clasped around her neck and flopping down on it.
Now was the time to tell her.
So I did.
I could never hate you, ever, promise.
