You have to know..I absolutely can't stand all this cheesy happy-end love stories. But I fear this is going to be one of them anyway. I had this stuck in my head for a long time and needed to write it down.

Warning: self-harm, eating disorders (anorexia and bulimia), intense emotions; may be triggering. Don't like, don't read.

I hope you enjoy and leave me a review! :) Also tell me, if I should discontinue my other story "Scars" because I'm really stuck with it right now and am not updating anyway. Thanks :)

I was bent over my toilet, fingers down my throat, forcing myself to throw up all the food I had just eaten. The feeling was unbearable. Throwing up was even worse than not eating at all. I could feel the tears dripping down my face, mixed with my make-up. My stomach was in cramps, my throat burning. I was exhausted. "One more time," I told myself and for the last time this evening shoved two fingers down the back of my throat, throwing up the (hopefully) last bits of the food of today. The calories stayed in my body though. At least most of them. Drying my face, I slowly sat down on the floor, leaning against the bathtub. Torture.

I hated the get-togethers that my mum always organized. I didn't like big mobs of people and if all they do is eat, it's even worse. But it was Christmas. Well, December 26th to be exact. Every year my family (and some friends) come to our house and we (they) celebrate Christmas. With tons and tons of food and sweets and drinks, all full of calories.

The worst happening this year? My mum just recently became friends with the parents of my crush. He didn't even know who I was till today and now he was at my house downstairs. Eating and laughing and talking and not giving a single fuck about me. He would never like me. No matter how hard I tried, I would never be good enough. Too fat, too ugly, too disgusting, too imperfect.

Thinking of him, I got up. I knew this feeling. I was having a full on panic attack. My stomach started to clench and I couldn't breath normally. I quickly grabbed my things and hurried to my room, muttering complete and utter shit and crying uncontrollably again. Once in my room, I collapsed on the carpet covered floor and reached for my blades. Needing relief and my control back, I started making cuts on my now bare wrists.

Choking on my sobs, I just sat there and cut. Once, twice, six times, twelve times and more. There were probably about 20 cuts on my forearms, all gushing blood, when I finally stopped. But the pressure, the pain, the voice, it all came back instantly. "You're fat! Why did you eat? And he saw you. You'll never be good enough for him! Just look at you! Disgusting." I thought.

Driven with fear I got back up and, without cleaning the fresh cuts, changed into my sport clothes. Like a maniac I lied down on the floor and started making squats and doing sit ups until my stomach hurt. Then changed positions and started the push-ups.

I was crying, or sobbing, non-stop, the tears still flowing freely down my face. "You have to do this. It hurts but it will be so worth it. Just get this fat off!" was what kept going through my mind and I think I murmered it between the sobs and pants.

Suddenly the door burts open and standing there was… Oh my….

Cliffhanger haha I'm evil! Is it a good one? Update tonight or tomorrow. Thanks for reading and pleeease don't forget to review ;)