i am,,,not doing too well eating disorder wise lmao. But writing this helps.
Isabelle stared at her reflection in the mirror as she ran her fingers over her collarbones. Not small enough. Her hands moved down her chest to her stomach. She ran her hands over it. Too big. Not small enough, never small enough.
She grabbed at the fat on her hips. Too big.
You need to lose the weight losetheweightlosetheweightlosetheweightthetheweightweightweight
She despises herself.
She needed to be smaller. Thin. Skinny. Light. Tiny. She needed to be the skinniest person in the room. Thinnest of them all, winner stands tall. She wasn't worth anything to anyone if she was fat.
She needed to have control.
Her stomach rumbled. She was so hungry.
hungryhungryhungry
ineedtoeatpleaseletmeeat
She felt small. In control. She had enough willpower to starve. Her stomach was as empty as the plate she had every night for dinner. She was the epitome of self control. The definition of strong. She possessed so much willpower.
hungryhungryhungryhungryhungry
let me eat
She chugged a full glass of water and let it flow down into her empty stomach like a waterfall. She loved being empty.
She was not hungry.
Her head spun as she walked up the stairs. Her legs burned from the effort it drew from her. Everything hurt and she both loved it and hated it at the same time. She collapsed at the stop of the steps and gripped the railing tight.
getupgetupgetupgetupgetupgetup
iamstrongstrongstrong
She stood. Stars danced in front of her eyes and her hands shook. But she kept walking.
Until she couldn't.
It started with a loss of sight. Slowly everything faded to black but she didn't even realize at first. She couldn't think clearly, her rationality gone. Then her hearing started to go. She shook all over.
She couldn't feel a thing. Her head buzzed. Next thing she knew she was on the ground and her head hurt and her vision swam and everything was blurry and fuzzy and get upgetupget you are strongstrongstrong and
she couldn't get up.
They buried her on a Sunday. Her mother had to fight to get off work. She cried all day. Her little girl was gone and nothing could bring her back.
Her father was numb at first but eventually he cried too. Nothing would ever be the same again.
Isabelle had broken the way a pencil breaks when too much pressure falls on it. She couldn't handle the weight.
Now they were all broken.
Thanks for reading. Please drop some feedback!
