Sleeping is a beautiful thing. At night, I'll procrastinate by clicking on websites written by people a whole lot like me.
Only difference is that they're girls and they're proud of what we do. They write long winded paragraphs that sound like love letters to coffee, sleep and that powerful feeling you get when you don't eat. They are the girls that assume that because anorexia makes them skinny, anorexia makes them perfect. I'm not sure that they're all girls, but the pink font and poems about butterflies make me think that they are. The websites try to make you think their way of life is just as acceptable as people who choose to be certain religion. They worship at the altar of emptiness and none of them are ashamed of it.
But I know I am completely flawed. As I read through their blog entries I assume that their lives have to be messed up for them to be like this. To be proud of having a disease they initiated is something underprivileged crazy people do. I know that the only reason why I feel guilty of starving myself is that I am lucky; I am just far too self-conscious for my own good.
My life is pretty perfect. I live in a well to do town, with one the largest and best school districts in the country. To get into my school, you had to be chosen for a sports team and I was good enough to get into one of the best soccer programs in the country. My perfect kicks that I aim for right under the post and my footwork got me into the best high school team for miles. Other coaches grimace when they see my school's name on the roster.
But really, intimidation is just smoke and mirrors. I am not cocky like I seem. I am not the leader of the soccer boys, the best boy in the school. I am just Spot. Small, insignificant, and annoying. When someone has a spot on their shirt, they take it off and put a new one on. If people really got to know me, they'd take me off and find a replacement. Jack has his dreams, Race has his good sense of humor, David has the ability to articulate exactly what he means, and Mush has his positive outlook. I've got anorexia.
What a horrible thing to have. Sometimes I think of telling someone. I'd probably tell Jack, because he's the one I trust the most, but what would I say? How could I tell him? He'd ask a million and one questions and he probably still wouldn't understand. I don't even understand.
I was never chubby. Why am I like this?
The world may never know.
I really want a Tootsie Roll pop. Those things are so good. Especially cherry ones.
I realize that I am dreaming of food and force myself to wake up.
A/N- Thank you for all of your reviews. They mean a lot. xoxo