Hunger (A silent plea of 'help me')

I am starting over.

I used to try to be everyone’s

Vision of a ‘perfect girl’.

I sat quietly at dinner, and never

Spoke loudly, or often.

My clothes were simple and

In pink, or other colors

‘Acceptable for a girl’.

And then I realized that this

Perfect illusion was tearing me

Apart at the seams, and I was going

Insane. But everyone said,

‘You just need to practice’,

‘I like this version better’,

And that the other me was

‘Too loud and arrogant’,

Wore ‘Shameful, dark, clothes’

And was ‘embarrassing’ for

My friends and family.

So I stopped eating. I couldn’t

Control the person I was inside,

So I had to starve her, purge the

Bad from me. And day by day,

Week by week, month by month,

She quieted down, the only sign of

Her existence being the sharp pains

Of my stomach, groaning in protest

At my sudden fast. But all my friends said,

‘You look great!’, ‘You were so fat before

But I didn’t want to tell you’,

‘I told you that you needed to be skinnier’,

And, ‘You’re still not thin.’

So I continued, and my family told me,

‘I’m not ashamed to be seen with you anymore’,

‘I can finally send a picture of you to Aunt Sidney’,

And, ‘I love this new you!’

So it became an obsession, a disorder.

And at last, when I couldn’t do

Any sports anymore because of the

Overwhelming dizziness and nausea,

And I was always freezing,

My sister softly mentioned,

‘I’m worried about you.’

‘Maybe you should come over,

I can bake you some brownies.’

‘I thought you looked fine before.’

‘Are you okay?’

‘What happened to you?”

And, suddenly,

‘I miss you.’

So I tried, I really did,

To eat those cookies I

Bought with shaking hands

At the store last week,

And I tried to eat desserts

And fatty foods.

But I couldn’t.

So I stand, in the bathroom,

Watching scarlet drops of blood

Fall to the ground, and angry red

Slices overlapping older scars.

And I shove the blade down,

Hitting major veins, I know,

Feeling weak and useless,

Until my knees buckle, and

I collapse to the ground,

My head hitting the red-stained

Tile with a sickening crack.

That’s how my sister finds me,

Hours later, sprawled on

The floor, wrists bleeding freely,

Eyes hidden, having fluttered

Closed hours ago. And she dials

The hospital, tears flowing down

Her pretty cheeks, holding her sister’s

Bloodstained hand in hers. And

Oh, I never wished this for her.

But I awaken to find that I am not

Dead, much to my dismay.

I never meant to stay alive.

There was no backup plan

For an alternate ending.

I'm sorry.

The End

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