Epilogue

DISCLAIMER: Nope, not mine, never will be... maybe... muahaha...

OH, and I WARN you now!! The title of this fic does not lie, so without reading Broken Glass first you will get HOPELESSLY CONFUSED!! So don't read this unless you've already read Broken Glass. It's for your own good! Thank you!

And if you've read Broken Glass, then you already know that the content of this may disturb some people a bit, etc., etc., etc...

I had a dream last night. Not a nightmare exactly, just a dream. I was walking along a fence, carefully balancing on top of the thin horizontal beams as the splintered wood cut into my bare feet.

I glanced to my left. The ground was rocky and barren with a few skulls here and there, like a desert that had long since died out. A few blackened trees dotted the desolate landscape. A lone figure stood there next to me. It was wearing a long black cloak, and I could only see shadow where its face should have been.

The figure reached out to me. Its hand was composed of nothing but bleached bone. It was reaching out for me, telling me to come with it and end my pain. As I watched, I suddenly slipped and lost my balance, nearly falling off the fence.

As I struggled to stay steady, I glanced to my right. On this side of the fence, everything was green and wonderful. The sun shone down out of a brilliant blue sky, and I could see all of my friends playing a game of football in the distance. I was stunned by the marked difference between the two sides of the fence.

Then I noticed something else on the right side.

Bruce.

He was just standing there, watching me. I tried to call out to him, but my lips wouldn't form the words. Bruce seemed to understand. He reached out for me, ready to catch me if I fell off the fence I was standing on. But, as close as he was, he was still too far to catch me properly. I knew it would probably hurt if I fell over on his side.

I glanced back to my left. The figure was still there. It was so close… I could easily touch it right from where I stood.

I began to lose balance again. I knew I had to leap off, but I couldn't decide whether to jump to the left or the right. The left would be easiest, I knew, and it wouldn't hurt so much. But everything looked so much nicer to the right…

I woke up before I could decide.

It took a while before I figured out what the dream was supposed to mean. The landscape and the figure to my left represented death—so easy to fall into, but you just don't know what you're going to find once you're there. The landscape to my right was supposed to be recovery, or how life could be once I was well again. It would hurt, to be sure, but the possibilities were endless once the pain ended. The fence was my eating disorders, the fine line that separated the two.

I've already lost a year of my life to these diseases. I even resorted to lying and stealing to keep them alive in my mind, becoming no better than the crooks I chase, just so the Voices could keep insulting me and destroying me from the inside out. Deep down, I always knew that this was insanity, that I should stop or tell someone or get help or do something other than humor those insufferable Voices.

Oh, yes, the Voices are still there. Definitely. You don't think they'll give up without a fight, do you? Well, neither will I. I don't want to live like this anymore. Constantly wishing I was dead. Constantly feeling like I'm reaching out to people who don't reach back.

I want to feel loved again. I want to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that people need me and want me around. And that won't happen if I listen to the Voices.

Every day is a challenge. Sometimes I don't even feel like it's worth it to get up in the morning. On those days, Bruce has to literally drag me out of bed and force me to do something other than lay around and mope. It's irritating, but I know I couldn't have gotten this far without his pushing and prodding. So thanks, Bruce.

No matter how bad things seem to get, I don't want to give into that sick way of thinking anymore. I know what it's like to live—not even live, really, just exist—back there, to let it rule your life. I've seen the devastating, unbelievably far-reaching consequences that eating disorders have. No one is spared, everyone is affected. In some sort of warped, convoluted way, these stupid eating disorders have made me see just how much of an impact I've had on so many people's lives. Not that I'm tooting my own horn, you understand. I'm just stating a fact. Why all these people care I have no clue, but they say they do, and I'm trying my best to believe it.

For example, just yesterday, Babs came by with an episode of The Twilight Zone she said I needed to see. So she sat me down and made me watch. It was about this girl who was supposedly really ugly, see, and she spent the entire episode with bandages over her face because she had just had an operation to make her beautiful. When the bandages came off, this girl was really very pretty, in spite of the fact that the operation had failed. But everyone else considered her to be hideous—'everyone else' being the doctors and nurses with pig-like noses and horribly twisted features which were considered attractive, or at least normal.

The moral of the story? Beauty is in the eye of the beholder; the only true beauty can be found inside, where it really counts. And if you're beautiful on the inside, then you'll be beautiful on the outside, too. I know it's hard to believe, especially if you're anorexic like me. But if you just keep repeating it to yourself, then it almost seems to make sense.

I still hate the way I look. Every time I look in the mirror or get undressed I just want to burst into tears. I confess there were times when I got so desperate I started researching liposuction for crying out loud. Thankfully, I never actually sank low enough to follow through with that crazy idea.

I've still got a long way to go before I can face food with a smile and really feel good about myself again. I hope I can get there. I also hope that, someday, I can look in the mirror and see a beautiful person looking back.

And if I ever have that dream again, I'll know exactly what to do.

Cheesy, I know. And I apologize. But it was either the cheesy epilogue where Dick lives or the non-cheesy one where he dies. And I can quite literally count the number of people who wanted him to die--excluding me--on one finger. Majority wins!

Anyway, the Twilight Zone episode was called, well, "The Eye of the Beholder". Duh. I love that show... (heart eyes) Um, sorry. I hope you liked the story :)