thighgap - feels even better than i thought it would
the day before that was valentine's day. bus-stop boy had been pissing me off all week, trying to get me to blow off my friends and my schoolwork to be his fucktoy. guess even nice boys have only one thing on their minds .. that day, i wasn't feeling well. almost fainted twice just walking from my car to class. my arms were too weak to press conte to paper in my figure drawing class. i even blew off a rave, i just wanted to go home and see my mom. when i told him i wasn't feeling well, mentally or physically, and was going home, he just got upset he wouldn't any V on V-day. i haven't heard from him since.
i was avoiding that boy and his pizza/movie night (keyword PIZZA) all week. he was already pushing me away by trying to get between me and skinny. i don't tolerate that anymore. at this point, i'm so close. i don't care what i lose, who i lose, so long as i'm losing weight. anyone who gets in my way is irrelevant, unnecessary, disposable. at this point, i want to be single, and i don't need a flirt-buddy to feel alive. my feelings for bus-stop boy have faded. i will feel no remorse when i break his heart and walk away.
the day after valentine's day, i found some shocking tweets on my timeline. my best friend had popped right out of the ana closet, claiming recovery and seeking support. i shot her a reply saying i was there for her and understood and i was so so very proud of her. i really am happy for her, but i'm not the slightest bit jealous. i noticed when she posted numbers. she has seen 100. she has seen 93. ninety-three little pounds. she's gotten her taste, and her tongue turned bitter. i'm still curious. i don't want to stop. i just have to know what it's like to be that number that's been stuck in my head for so many years ..
.. 97 97 97 97 97 97 97 97 97 97 97 97 97 97 97 97 97 97 97 97 ..
i have to know what it's like. i have to taste it. cuz i still think bones are the color of sugar, and perfection will taste as sweet.
i feel my hips swing when i walk. i feel my thighs as they stay on their separate courses, not daring brush against eachother. i feel my collars and shoulders out of nervous habit, i wonder what people think when they see me absent-mindedly caressing my bones ..
i'm pretty sure my mom knows now. when drew came over to my house for carbs and fat (pancakes and bacon) dinner, they could both hear me hacking when i thought i'd kept quiet enough. "nikki's having a field day in the bathroom, huh?" my mom said to drew. i'm glad she's not trying to stop me, but i know that eventually she will. even drew wants me to stop losing weight. he says he doesn't like bony girls.
see paragraph four.
i'll do whatever it takes to be perfect. and when i'm thin, a new chapter of my life will begin. because a new me will be born. i will be a walking before-and-after, soon to become the walking dead. i will be a tragic beauty, fragile bodied but a mind as strong as an ox. i will be walking perfection.
p e r f e c t i o n .
stay strong, think thin, live ana