I crawled out of bed, feeling like I had the previous days. His advice was great, but following it was the problem. How could I not cut myself? How could I be happy when the only things in my head were haunted thoughts? I couldn’t. I wasn’t even willing to try anymore.
It felt nice, that first night. But the smile didn’t even last for a day. It faded away, just like everything else in my life had.
I didn’t understand why I felt good last night, and simply crashed when I woke up. My mind was a mess. The thoughts had immediately come back, and I just broke down. I tried to fake sick and stay home, but I wasn’t able to because I wasn’t physically ill. I was emotionally ill, but I refused to let my parents know.
I couldn’t let them know. They wouldn’t understand what I was feeling. They would just think I was being an over-dramatic teenager, and brush it off.
I moped into homeroom, and put my head on the desk. I felt like the walking dead. I was not Melissa. I was a zombie. My brain would not function properly, and I just zoned out.
I went into my fantasy, a world I had created inside my head to feel better for a little bit. Inside it were my favorite things, a razor blade, bottle of pills, rope, and gun. I wandered around for a while, letting my hand glide over each object and think of the destruction I could cause myself from these tools.
“Melissa, the bell rang,” Mrs. Mobley told me, as I came back into reality.
“Oh.. Uh... Bye,” I answered as I quickly fled the room. I was not in the mood for any invasive questions.
I walked off to class, I don’t even remember which one at the point because my horrific thoughts have overtaken my memories. I sat down at my desk, and closed my eyes. I thought of all the ways I could murder myself. Unfortunately, this was a normal morning ritual for me. This was a daily process. The bell rang, interrupting my thoughts.
Somehow, it was time to go to lunch. I guess I zoned out through my other morning classes. When I got there, I just sat down at the table by myself. I didn’t get lunch.
I guess I should explain how I also had multiple eating disorders. I stopped eating when I started self harming. When I did eat, I would force it back up, and self harm worse as a punishment.
I needed to be thin. My weight horrified me. It was too high. Way too high. I couldn’t take it. I needed to be thin. I needed to be pretty. I wasn’t, though.
It became an obsession. I looked at the Barbie dolls and the magazines, and saw what I wanted. A small waistline. I decided that food was no longer important, as long as I wasn’t fat anymore. If I could be thin, maybe then there would be a chance of me being pretty for once. I would do anything to lose weight.
Looking in the mirror everyday was such a challenge for me. My eyes looked dead. My ugly face surrounding my dull eyes just made it worse. Plus my awful figure. I understood why people at school made fun of me. I was truly hideous. I hated every little bit of my appearance. Not one thing satisfied me.
I would always ask myself what life would be like if I was attractive. Would people like me? Would they want to be my friend, or even date me? Or would my awful and weird personality ruin that, too? I guess I would never know, though, seeing as I was a monster.