"You never come back, not all the way. Always there is an odd distance between you and the people you love and the people you meet, a barrier thin as the glass of a mirror, you never come all the way out of the mirror; you stand, for the rest of your life, with one foot in this world and no one in another, where everything is upside down and backward and sad."
"I'm scared," James writes into his journal. "I'm scared that it's always going to be there. I'm scared that fifty years from now I'll still be alive, and I'll be sitting at a table, looking at the food, still wondering if it's worth it to bother eating. The logical voice in me tells me to just stop it, to just eat, but it's not that simple. It's never that simple. I'm always going to second guess whether I really want to give up Ana, whether I want to live alone in my head, whether it will all be too much without her. I'll even question if I want to be normal. But I suppose there really isn't anything for it." He closes the journal and steps away with a sigh, covering his eyes with the palm of his hand.
Circles are vicious things. James Diamond knows this, and he knows this perfectly well. Make no mistake, just because he doesn't do anything to stop the circle does not mean he doesn't understand.
Unfortunately for James, one of the few things he doesn't understand about this sad fact is that self-inflicted circles are the worst. After all, who among us can escape their own mind? James envies the lucky bastard, whoever he may be.
James wants to escape his own mind. He feels trapped, lost, like his body is less of a safe place and more of a cage. Restricting him. Unyielding. Refusing to be what he wants it to. But he supposes there really isn't anything for it.
James glances out to the kitchen, sees his friends laughing and snacking. Eating handfuls of chips easily, not worrying about calories, sodium intake, how many miles they'll have to force themselves to run to burn off every last bite he allows into his mouth. He wonders how it feels.
"I want chips, damn it," he thinks. James strides out to the kitchen and defiantly grabs a small bag of chips, smiling at his friends before returning to his room with it. He tries to block out the shrieking voice in his mind. "You can't eat that," taunts the voice. "You want to be beautiful... don't you?"
James glances uneasily at the now open bag, allowing his eyes to flicker briefly to the nutrition facts. 110 calories per serving. 3 servings per bag. 330 total. 45 minutes minimum on a stair stepper, or at least 4 miles running, no breaks. Is it worth it?
James throws the bag away.