PREFACE

So, this is it. I lay here, a mound of nothing. Above me, the dark angel from my nightmare, smirking like the devil she was. She was the only one who knew my true life, my true feelings, and my true addictions. She waved at me and turned away. I was paralyzed and forced to live for the rest of my life in this box.

Chapter 1.

School was finally out for the Summer. I'd never been happier. The warm California air brushed against my pale skin. It felt nice. I waved bye to my friends and got on the bus. I didn't live far from my school-only 15 minutes. I retrieved my ipod from my backpack and blared the music in my ear.

I didn't know if anyone was beside me as I stared blankly out the window. Watching the lake go under the river the bus rode over. The water looked warm and blue and I knew many memories would be made at the lake this summer.

When I got home, nobody was there. I was glad, I liked being home alone, it gave me time to myself; to think and figure out my goals.

I grabbed a bag of chips from the cabinet and laid on my bed with my magazine. I flipped through the glossy pages, discovering nothing but the simple sickness I felt looking at the skinny models, celebrities, and everyday girls. I hated it. Guys would never notice me unless I looked that thin, which is why I'd never had a boyfriend in all my 16 years. The models gorgeous bones stuck out of every curve; not fat clinging to them unlike mine. I hated my body; 110 pounds, 5'4. Nothing is attractive about me. My face is irregular. I only like my nose.

I looked at the magazine for as long as I could before turning on the television. The tv wasn't any better. The bright colors shown more bones of gorgeous females and guy howling at them as they walked by. I hated the girl for being so beautiful; her long blonde hair flowing behind her, her tanned skin, and her hip bones that stuck out in her tiny string bikini.

Why couldn't I be skinny.

I decided enough is enough. I threw the chips in the floor along with the magazine. I got off my bed and headed for the bathroom.

I grabbed my toothbrush that has never been used at the bristle end as much as it had been used at the other. I lifted the toilet seat and bent over it. I stuck the end of the toothbrush in the back of my throat, gagging myself. I hacked a few times before the hardly digested chips came up. A few more gags and I had an empty stomach. The acid burning in my nose about to make me cry.

I felt 10 pounds lighter. I rinsed off the tooth brush and stored it in the cup with all the other one's. I rinsed my mouth with water and mouthwash until I got all the vomit taste out of my mouth.

It felt good purging. It was my only release from being angry at myself. I considered it punishment for not being 90 pounds.

It always seemed to make me tired, which meant I would probably miss dinner which was a plus. I crawled back in my bed and rested my head against the cool pillow cover.

I started to cry.

I wanted to be skinny and beautiful. I don't care how much damage it does to my body, I'll risk it. I'd rather die of nothing-ness than dying of obesity. Obesity seems to be the big-no pun intended- thing anymore in America. I feel kind of sorry for the innocent people the capture on film walking down the street. I'd hate to be them and turn on the tv to see my fat butt gnawing on a candy bar with the head line: overweight American percentage has gone up 30%.

Disgusting. Do fat people not know they're fat. The have so self respect about themselves.

I had to strive to not be one of those people, to be the one on the headline for the percentage of underweight teens in America.