... Okay, I rreallllly want to write a fun story, with fluff and cuteness and funnyness, so this will hopefully be the last uploaded angsty fic for a while by me :p (haha, highly doubt it. It's me! I don't understand it, I'm usually a happy and positive person (usually!0 why do I write sad shit like this? Gah! Now, that's something I need to look into :p But, a happy ending is a guaranteed! so.. yay?)

EDIT Jan.11/2013: ... fuck it. This happened to me a couple months ago when I went shopping with my brother for breakfast. I freaked. I don't think I have an eating disorder (if I do, I wouldnt know for sure, maybe? Never been diagnosed, nor been to a psychiatrist/therapist), but I know I've had anorexic/binge/purge tendencies since I was 11, (we wont go into detail)... It's awful. I did change this story around a lot, just to make it more generic (and not my own) and make it sound more like James with his friends. So how they acted/James acted is not the same as me, but it's only where I got the idea from. Plus, how I was and what my brother was saying is quite idfferent to James, Kendall, Carlos and Logan (my bro stayed by myside and kept talking about funny stuff, weird things, his life, and then in worry when I was silently panicing, he talked to me about the nutrition of each item, what they would do, real fats vs. bad fats that I want, how counting calories is the stupidest thing to ever do, and then got me out of there quickly... thaank you brother!). I also didn't want it to be originally shown as me since I try to keep my personal life quiet, but, I don't know. A lot of my fics have key issues I've faced, but I decided to just be truthful here. I freaked because I am legitmently scared of food/fat/calories/gaining weight, but dont want people who can help me and make me more fat to know, so I needed a way to talk about it. I hate it, but I dont want help :/ Fucked! So sorry James Diamond. You're once again being tortured by me to help me figure things out...

Warning: It does deal with Eating Disorders. Everyone faces it differently, this is just a glimpse of what I thought, so if you feel as though it may be a trigger... Proceed with caution if you do wish to read? If not, that is completely fine by me! :) There are swears, and percentage of spelling/grammatical errors is high.

Disclaimer: I do not own Big Time Rush


(James' POV)

It only started out with a simple 'We don't have any food!', which led us to right now, buying random ass crap and carbs and shit for breakfast. When the guys and I eat, we eat a lot. Like, a lot a lot. Mama Knight left on a retreat with Katie to some camp thing up in the Rockies. A Mother-Daughter bonding event, they said. She left us money, and the guys have gone insane, buying any and every kind of junk food available.

Every night, every morning, every lunch hour I sneer at the products they have out in front of them. Ice cream, chips, popcorn, candy, calories, fat, fat, fat! They make fun of me for not eating the same amount as they do, but they don't get it, do they?

I have to eat healthfully.

The guys don't.

Why is that?

I'm the pretty one, the perfect one. I have to work out daily, have non-dairy this, non-fat that.

What people don't realize is that it's just as hard to be Ken as it is to be Barbie.

"What about this, guys?" Carlos pipes up, holding onto a pack of extra large, triple chocolate muffins with chocolate chips (which would be the reason as to why it's triple chocolate, I assume?).

I almost barf at the sight, taking it out of Carlos' hands, and staring directly into the nutrition label.

"Carlos, it's 420 calories for one, 18.4 grams of total fat, and 50.5 grams is the total carb percentage!"

Carlos arches an eyebrow, his half eaten corndog still in his mouth. He grabs back the box of chocolate muffins and places them into the cart, uncaring to what I have to say.

"Whatever, princess." He jokes playfully, and Logan and Kendall give a short, yet hesitant laugh along with him.

I huff out, instantly turning away from them and the bakery area, heading towards the produce section. Kendall remains dumbfounded behind me, stuttering out a "Wait, James come back! He was just joking man!"

I don't care. I'm not listening anymore. Everywhere I look is food, food, bundles of food that is never going to be eaten. There's starving children in every country that would kill to have the options I do. But I can barely even look at this stuff without hating myself for it.

Even the produce section, the area filled with greens and fruits and nutrients bare down on me, closing in on me.

My heartbeat quickens, knowing that I'm going to have to eat something, knowing that something has to get into my system.

But I can't bear the thought.

Why is this so difficult? Eating is eating. Food is good, right? I shouldn't have to spend hours of my day counting my intake, weighing myself and wanting to cry when my weight isn't where it's supposed to be.

And why is that? It's because of this food!

It taunts me and teases me, and I lay awake every night, spending hours dreaming away about things that I can't eat, just because of the industry I'm in.

But, come on, let's be honest here: my Mother is in the same industry, my food obsession has been with me from the day of my birth. My weight and health have always been a top concern for her, especially when she decided I was too fat and needed to go on a strict diet when I was, like, 10.

"Hey buddy!" Kendall pops up yet again, chipper as ever. He looks into my shaking hand as I hold onto an orange (60 cals, 35 for half).

"What about this?" He brings a box of Eggo's (200 for 1 ½ - add syrup = 230 cals) into my view, along with fish sticks (250 cals for half a cup).

"The eggo's are whole wheat with blueberries, and they say reduced fat on the box-" He brings to fishsticks forward, looking at the nutrition label with an arched eyebrow. He looks up to me, a sheepish grin plastered on his face. "And this one is made with fish? And, I mean, fish is good for you!" He says excitedly, shaking the box with a half-hearted smile. It's funny, he actually thinks that just because it's fish and whole-wheat and reduced fat that it's all of a sudden healthy. I inwardly shutter, forcing a smile onto my face at his (slightly failed) attempt.

I smile, because I can't let him know what I'm truly thinking.

"That looks good Kendall." My voice comes out small and shaky, already fearing of the fat content inside of that disgustingness we call food.

"You okay?" The blond asks me warily, placing a kind hand to my shoulder that's covered by my large, winter coat.

Another smile placed on my face, and I force a lie out from my between my (too thin) lips.

"Fine, Kendall. I'm just not feeling well. Do you think we could get out of here soon?"

Kendall squeezes the cloth underneath his grasp tightly in a reassuring manner. "Sure, we'll finish as soon as possible, all right?"

I nod my head, and my blond friend leaves my side.

I'm still staring at the food. The orange in my hand and all I want to do is cry.

It's an orange for Christ's sake. And I'm just holding it! It shouldn't be this difficult!

Who knew that when this entire diet thing started, my obsession with eating would turn into this? I'm having a near anxiety attack by just being inside the store. Everyone is looking at me, I can tell.

But why? They pass by me, judging. They see the orange in my hand, they see how fat I am. They're laughing, saying 'you'll never be healthy, thin and beautiful by eating fatty shit like that!'

It's true.

Eating nothing is better than eating this fat.

I place the orange back down into its original place, and immediately walk away, anxiety rising. I walk through the aisles, scared at what is looking at me.

The people I do notice, the ones who aren't staring at me, are two different types.

There are the obese with their large carts full of anything and everything. The double chins and disorderly hair wrapped in a bun. I feel horrible for pointing it out, and seeing them as something other than human but I can't help it. Then the others I see are the perfect ones. The ones with a plastic bag of spinach and an apple in their cart, or the buffed up personal trainer who is ripped as fuck, holding onto protein powder, eggs (250 cals – 3 eggs) and a banana (130 cals)... I've always wanted to look like that. Either muscular out of my mind, or lean, like a soccer player or swimmer.

But I can never get to that point by eating unhealthful content, can I?

I zip up my jacket just a little further, the cold beginning to get to me as I walk around the store.

I've always wondered if there is something wrong with me. Do I have an eating disorder? Or am I just dieting? Just worrying about calories for the sake of worrying about calories?

Am I just doing this because I'm scared and alone in this place called LA and I want attention?

That has to be it! I don't have an eating disorder, I just diet. I just worry about my health and exercise, that's all! I shouldn't make my friends worry about me just because I'm being a selfish!

I don't have an eating disorder.

I just want attention.

Aaaand, eating disorders are behavioural problems. Like, you always have it, and when your life is messing up and you need control, it begins to develop further, or something like that. I learned that back in Health Class in Minnesota. The not eating and/or purging is just a symptom! My life is completely fine, and I have all the control in the world!

I'm completely fine.

"Hey buddy, doing alright?" I jump at the sound of Logan. When I turn and look at the smaller boy, I see he's holding a bag of apples. "An apple a day keeps the doctor away, " he claims with a boisterous laugh. He pats my stomach and I notice a moment of pain pass from behind his dark brown eyes. It goes away as fast as it came, though, and he looks up to me, placing a large, yet fake smile on his face.

"I have to go put these in the cart, but Kendall said you weren't feeling too well?"

I nod uneasily, wondering why my breath was shortening and just how the hell I let my weak ass self get into the chips aisle.

They all look so delicious. So good. Maybe I could have one, I have been good recently. My fingers begins to drift upwards without me consent towards a bag-

No! Damn it!

How fucking dare you! You're fat, alright! Fat! You need control, damn it, or you really are just as weak and pathetic as your Mom and Dad always say!

"James?" Logan proceeds with caution.

My own fingers tremble and waver through my hair as I force my eyes away from the chips and the smaller raven haired male in front of me, "Uhm, yah. My stomach is kind of upset. How much longer do you think we'll be?"

My fucking voice is wavering now too. Good job, Diamond. Way to play it cool.

I notice another weak smile placed onto Logan's face.

"Just another few minutes, buddy. I think Carlos is getting some milk or orange juice, and we're leaving shortly after that."

"So, like 5 minutes?" I ask, trying to get myself out of this aisle. Please, please get me out of here.

Temptation is running to high and I want everything. I need everything!

No, no, no you don't! You bastard! You're selfish, thinking you actually need all this fatty food to survive, when you already have it oh-so-well.

"Ya, I guess I'll see you up front," Logan breathes out as he brushes past me. He grabs onto Kendall roughly by the blond's shoulder as the taller just walked around the corner to join us mid conversation. He leads the blond away from me, whispering quickly and spastically towards him with a concerned look on his face. I see Kendall, turn and look over his shoulder sadly at my slightly shaking body, just before he's brought out of the aisle completely.

I stand there, whimpering softly.

The tears are coming now.

It's awful. It's like there are two people inside of me, telling me two different things, all the time. They switch every second, and I don't know what to do. One is telling me that food is good, that fats are good, that I need to eat, but then-

Then there's the other one, the other voice in my head who constantly tells me I'm not good enough, that if I eat anything, I'll become fat and useless, even more so than I already am. The negativity is horrible, and I can barely even reach in the fridge at home to grasp a water bottle without that person screaming at me, just for looking at the other food through the transparent window.

I want help.

I need help.

But then I think, they'll only make you fat. Larger. Gross. Disgusting. Hideous.

Not perfect.

(Like my parents always needed me to be).

And why would they help you? You don't have any problems, right? You're not sickly thin, right? They can't offer you any help when you don't actually need it.

Remember, you just want attention, and nobody likes an attention hound, so you have to keep it to yourself.

... I hate this.

I'm only in a grocery store, looking at food.

My friends are waiting up front, all staring at me with sympathetic looks, wanting me to come forward, to walk down the last aisle towards them.

The aisle filled with cookies and candy and cheese crackers and everything I'm scared of and hate and love all at the same time, and I don't even understand why.

They're waiting for me and it's like I can barely even move. If I walk through that aisle, will I grab all the items greedily, or will the voice come back and tell me, 'How dare you even look!'

I don't even want to know.

So I stand here, in front of the freezer aisle, the cold from the icy door that holds the various kinds of butter drafts downwards, towards my prominent spine beneath my jacket.

I haven't actually eaten a single thing in 4 days.

I haven't actually had anything to eat now.

I'm only in a grocery store, with all the food baring down on me, overwhelming me to the point of tears.

I'm only in a grocery store.

When did it get this difficult?

"Come on, James!" Kendall, Logan and Carlos shout together, hands waving for me on the other side. The cool temperature is bothering me, and the artificial light above my head is flickering in and out. The guys, though, they're near the perfect, clean window, where the sun is up and rising, it's rays shining in beautifully towards my friends.

So, I stand straight underneath the flickering light, biting my lip. I don't know want this anymore. This hungry feeling. The pain, the shaking, the counting, the weighing. The staying in Friday and Saturday nights, just so I don't have to eat. I hate that I have no social life anymore. I hate that I'm pushing my friends away.

I don't want this anymore.

I don't know what part of me does it, but it happens without thinking. My feet move without my brain telling them to do so. I'm thankful for it. Listening intently, I don't hear a thing, just complete silence in my head for the time being, no yelling or shouting or arguing or cruel words of taunting. Just- silence, and it's amazing.

I begin to walk forward, towards my friends, towards the sunlight, away from the cold where I was alone. I do look at the food, and nothing happens. My stomach doesn't growl, no voices start up and I actually feel a small, yet genuine smile appear on my face.

I don't know what happened to the little voice, and even though I know it'll be back soon, it's gone right now. I haven't had this peace in a while, I almost forgot what it felt like.

It feels fucking amazing.

The guys are all waiting for me with real smiles on their faces. It's as if they're proud of me.

"Come on, James! I'm hungry!" Carlos whined like a child. Kendall slaps him in the chest, and Logan is still watching me with a look of admiration.

I only walk, and after a few minor moments of anxiety,

I finally make it to the other side.


donneee

So, explanation: in my life, the ending did sort of happen to me, anyways. To those of you who didnt understand (probably everyone, it's very strange and badly written! my attempt at making a metaphore, haha), but for me it was like being by the freezer showed how alone, cold, empty and helpless I was feeling. It was the down/depression/mental/phsyical I felt after years of doing this to myself. People were walking by, but they didnt notice me.

But there was my brother, at the register, saying come here worriedly. He cared, he was the only to care for me in that store (and at that point, the only one during that time who I felt cared with my effed up mental state - not true, many people do. I just didnt want to see it). i saw the sun was shining in through the window, and he was in a place with the smiling, friendly register people, laughing, talking aimlessly with seemingly no worries, in the warmth of the sunlight.

But, I remember I was craving Smart pop, and after not eating for 4 days, I felt like I would just walk by and grab it, or anything because I wanted it sooo badly, but felt like I couldnt have it. I was scared by the isle I would have to go through to get to my brother. To get to the happy side. But, at the end, I decided I hated being alone and cold, by myself, and to get to the other side, I would have to face my fears and go through the isle I was terrified of (... yes, I was terrified of an ISLE in a grocery store... WTF!). So, in a way, I saw the scene as a whole? The only way to get better and actually help myself was to face my fears, which would lead me to the happiness of the other side. meaning, I had a slight emiphany, and wanted to get help, because I didn't want to go through what I was anymore. I hated what I was doing, and I wanted help in a way, and I didnt want to push anyone else away either. So I walked through it (didnt fall to temptaton of grabbing a bag of BAD food or deciding not to get help and carrying with my awful ways) and when I was with my brother, he asked if I was okay, and I said 'ya', and I really did feel good, and felt like it was going to be okay. And then he made me a very big, healthy breakfast which I didn't feel bad for eating, which was a first in a looooong time. The feeling of wanting help didn't last very long, but it was cool at that moment in time.

So, anyways, thats how I saw the ending. Everyone is up to their own interpretations. If you didnt understand, then, my explanation hopefully helped? :P