LeavesofMyself: So, I really debated with myself in posting this chapter. It's incredibly dark and, possibly (to some) extremely triggering. In the end, I decided to post it.
This chapter deals heavily in eating disorders (mainly bulimia and anorexia) as well as several mentions of self harm.
As someone who has suffered from anorexia with a binge/purge subtype for almost two decades, I actually found that writing this chapter to be somewhat therapeutic. Mostly in the sense that I was able to put words to my experiences.
This chapter in absolutely no way glorifies either self harm or eating disorders. Most of what is written are actual problems that developed due to my illness.
I will only say this once, PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK! IF, AT ANY POINT, THIS STORY BECOMES TOO MUCH, STOP!
Your own health and journey are more important than a chapter in my story.
Rating: M
Warning: EXTREME TRIGGERS – Mentions of self harm, bulimia with descriptions of gorging and/or purging, as well as anorexia.
YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!
His lungs burned, a deep ache settling in his chest as he heaved, shaky breaths stuttering in and out of him as he purged. Tears pricked at the back of his blue eyes as rugged, dry coughs choked his windpipe, body trembling heavily from the strain of it all.
He swallowed several quick bursts of air, before he did it again, finger violating his throat as he forced every single morsel from his body, his frame heaving deeply as pain laced through nerve endings, causing the frozen tears to fall. His midsection cramped, a cold sweat breaking over his skin, but he couldn't stop. Not yet.
He continued, until his body crumbled from the severity, his stomach forcibly rejecting everything. After several minutes, Eddy finally spewed nothing but acidic bile into the porcelain bowl, clammy hands gripping the sides until his knuckles turned white. Deep, agonizing inhales rattled his small frame as he sat back on his haunches, the motion tilting his world. Wet, blue eyes closed as he swallowed air, a shaky hand reaching up to blindly flush the contents of his self-hatred down the drain.
He stayed in his crumbled position for longer than he had wanted, but it seemed every time he went to stand, his legs gave out under him, vision blackening at the edges. With great effort, Eddy managed to cling to the counter surrounding his sink, nails digging into the false wood as he used every last ounce of strength left to pull his haggard body upward.
He managed to stand on shaky ground, his entire being threatening to fall apart as he shook from the strain. Sunken, hollow eyes tore themselves away from the pale stain of his countertop to bore into his reflection. A sneer twisted his features as he looked himself over.
'Why was he still so revolting?'
His mind screamed at him, that loud booming voice that echoed in his head spewed insult after insult at him. He was doing what it said, but God! Why wasn't it working?
A sharp click of a tongue rang through the small bathroom as he ripped eyes away from his hideous form. Instead, a shaky hand reached out, grabbing a bottle of mouthwash, his being far too exhausted to go through the motions of brushing his teeth. He managed to not spill a drop, even as the bottle felt like a brick in his hands, it taking every ounce of physical stamina to actually lift said bottle to his lips.
His form leaned heavily against his countertop as he mindfully swished the mint flavored liquid around his mouth before spitting into the sink. A pale hand turned on the water, quickly rinsing the sink before shutting it off again.
After a moment, Eddy willed himself into a standing position, his petite form swaying slightly from the effort to remain upright. His lungs settled into a steady rhythm of in and out, though a soft rattle could be heard if one listened closely enough.
He pivoted on his heels, trembling legs carrying him forward through the threshold of en suite and bedroom. A weak hum vibrated Eddy's scarred vocal chords as his vision swam, his feet stumbling as his body felt exceedingly heavy, as if he would collapse from simply existing.
Eddy stopped in his tracks, his eyes squeezing shut as a pale hand raised to press against his forehead in an effort to ground himself. When his world stopped rocking, he hesitantly blinked his eyes open before finishing his trek to his bed.
There, he allowed his body to crumble into the duvet, his body sinking into the material as he panted lightly. His thundering heart hammered against his ribcage from his excursion, a trickle of sweat soaking the back of his neck.
A minute ticked by. And then another. And another. His thundering heart slowed to a dull, lazy rhythm as his body re-centered itself. Taunt muscles loosened slightly, leaving behind the bone-deep ache that Eddy had become familiar with.
He would have stayed that way, if he hadn't heard his mother calling for him. A sobbing groan pulled itself from his lips as he forced his body upright, his heart already thundering from the minor movement. With a deep, stuttering breath, Eddy stood from his bed, a hand pulling along his simple, black, though incredibly bulky, hoodie with him. His arms trembled as he shook from the effort of pulling the article of clothing over his head.
Finally covered, Eddy made his way out of his bedroom and down the hall, hand guiding him as it slid smoothly over textured paint. He paused once more as the edges of his vision blackened, standing stock still until the wave passed over him, his feet stumbling forward once more.
Stairs… they had become a vicious obstacle in his day to day life. Going down wasn't as terrible, as long as he held onto the railing, but up… Up was a catastrophic nightmare. Every step up, every pull of his arms, it left him shaky and weak, breath panting as his heart skewed in an effort to keep him upright. He hated stairs.
When Eddy reached the bottom, he willed his body forward to where his mother was standing, a heeled foot tapping impatiently as she waited for him.
"What took you so long? We're going to be late." His mother admonished, her manicured hands gripping her keys tighter, the small metal components making a slight, jingling sound as she did so.
"Sorry," Eddy muttered with a weak smile, his arms filling quickly with his backpack before parent and child exited the house. Eddy made his way to the car while his mother turned back to lock the door behind them.
He silently hauled his body into his mother's car, door closing against the crisp, fall air. Goosebumps broke out almost painfully over his skin, as the chilled air blanketed him, extremities going numb almost immediately.
Eddy remained faithfully quiet, even as his mother climbed into the driver's seat. A push of a button, a shift of gears, and they were slowly rolling out of his driveway. Insipid eyes closed, his fragile body slipping into unconsciousness from the loll of the purring engine.
He traversed the halls solemnly, his eyes kept at a constant downcast as he weaved himself through the throngs of students. A harsh bump to his frame sent him spiraling to the ground, a hiss of discomfort escaping him as he collided with the cold, linoleum floor.
"Watch where you're going fucking fatass." The words were sneered at him, searing into the darkest corners of his mind; that loud, haunting voice snarling in agreement.
Eddy inwardly flinched, but remained rather stoic on the outside. With a grunt, he managed to pull himself back to his feet, pleased that his world only swayed slightly in result.
He pushed forward, body more consciously moving through a narrowed path through his classmates until he reached his destination. Eddy quickly walked to the back of the large room, his body collapsing into the hard, plastic chair of his chosen lunch table. Backpack dropped to his side, Eddy crossed his arms on the rickety table, eyes slipping closed as he calmed his exhausted body.
He stayed that way, even as Ed and Edd joined him. He could hear the shuffling of Double D's packed lunch being laid out in his quaint order, while Monobrow simply dropped his tray of the school's questionable lunch onto the table. He would have usually berated Ed, would have sprang up and tackled the other to the ground out of sheer annoyance alone… But, God! he was far too fragile to do such a thing anymore.
Eddy would have stayed complacent in his own world, but distantly, he could hear the timbre of Edd's voice calling out to him over the thrum of the background noise. Blue eyes peeked opened, shifting slightly so they rested on Double D, not a word falling from his lips as he chose to let the unspoken question linger.
"You're not eating?" Double D questioned, a slight pull of a frown at the corners of his lips. Eddy said nothing, simply choosing to close his eyes once more, shutting out his reality, only to have that hissing voice screeching in the back of his mind.
"I'm not hungry." It was a simple statement, one he found himself repeating as if it were some magical affirmation. It wasn't entirely untrue either, he had long since lost the capability to feel hunger.
"Eddy," he could hear Edd say, mind perfectly picturing his friend's lecturing face behind closed eyes, "You've skipped lunch all week."
He hummed in reply. Neither a denial nor a confirmation.
He heard a light thump directly next to his head and, the next time he blinked open his eyes, a shiny, crisp apple nearly swallowed his vision.
"At least eat an apple," Double D admonished. Eddy stared unseeingly at the golden fruit in front of him.
'Don't do it. Don't do it. Don't do it.'
Like a hallowed mantra it repeated in his head, internal hatred booming on stereo in his fractured mind. A deft hand pushed the forbidden fruit away, hand tucking back under his head as quickly as it left.
"Eddy!" he could hear the concerned cry, could feel the vibrations of his friend's worry damper the air around him, but he stayed resolute, resolve hardened, mind surrendered to his falsified peace.
At some point, his exhaustion must have claimed his body, as his lithe frame jerked harshly at the overwhelmingly vociferous bell, the shrill pitch searing into an ache just behind his eyes. With a weary sigh, Eddy stood, his hand dragging his backpack up with him before he stormed out of the lunchroom, his entire being blocking out the shouts of distress from behind him.
He had nothing to say. He never did. He could only play pretend as best he could as he stumbled his way from his day to day activities, voice quiet but mind screaming.
'Was there anything left to say?'
He had been stuck in a perpetually vicious cycle of gorge, surrender, and obey for so long now, that he believed he said all he could…
'What do you say to yourself when you can't stand the skin you're in?'
His lungs ached, vision dancing in bold static as he gasped for air. His haggard body did the best it could, trembling legs carrying him around the black tar of a track, feet sore as they thundered across pavement. His vision swam, world tilting on its axis. So he slowed, his light jog transitioning into a leisurely walk.
He could hear them snickering, the faceless masses of his classmates, serpentine tongues igniting old wounds as they passed. He did his best to shut them out, but every sneer and hiss lapped at scarred skin, bruised soul cringing at every direct hit.
"Pick up the pace!"
It was said in general, as several students dropped off to mindlessly walk the black tar, their own bodies greedily heaving lungful of air. He was tempted to start again, but the sudden lurch of his world kept idle feet at bay, blue eyes closing tightly against the sudden upheaval.
Jeering faces laughed at him as he rounded the corner of his final lap. Pristine bodies decorated in vitality stood off to the sidelines, their champion of victory claimed for the moment.
'Run. Run. Run. Run. Run.'
So Eddy did, his tired legs thudding mournfully across the pavement, arms pumping as blood rushed to his head. He could see his world exploding, a burst of vibrant static lacing the edges of his visions, but he didn't stop. Not now; he was so close.
"13:27." It had been said so casually as if it were the most mundane thing in the world. Not to Eddy.
It was all of his failure, endorsed by his own seething resentment, wrapped into a little box and gifted to him in the worst way possible. He had disgraced himself… again.
Why couldn't he be better?
Eddy stood just off from his classmates, dull eyes glaring scornfully at the ground. His heart jackhammered behind his ribs, thudding so fast it was almost painful. He would have stayed that way, but it seemed there would be no rest for the listless.
"Hey dork, didn't think it was possible for you to be even more lame."
He knew the voice, learned in well after ages of endless taunting. His eyes shifted from the ground to his… Friend? Bully? Motivation?
"Can't believe you ended up with a time worse than half of the girls!" lips curled in a mocking sneer and Eddy felt every word settle in his bones, bitterness suffocating his ragged breathing.
He wanted to say something. To scream in rebuttal, but the vicious voice of his inner self kept him quiet. Instead, his gaze drifted back down to the ground, the rolling boil of his self-loathing igniting into an all out blaze.
"You know, if you spent more time on your feet as you do shoveling Twinkies down your throat, then you wouldn't be such a lard ass."
It was the mocking chorus of laughter that cut the most. He tried not to let them see his weaknesses, to witness his own internal battle as he found himself agreeing. He had done that at one point, hadn't he?
'But I have a new way.'
At the teacher's command, Eddy turned, his feet dragging him back to the locker room, his small frame disappearing into an empty stall. He stayed there until the entire room fell into a dense silence, the echo of the bell shrieking signaling the end of the day.
He crept out of his stall, eyes darting around to make sure he was the only soul left in the barren room. Satisfied, Eddy emerged, body instantly posturing in front of a mirror.
"You're so disgusting," his own voice ricocheted back to him, echoing hauntingly.
"Look at you," it sneered, voice harsh and belligerent, "Fucking disgusting ass piece of shit. You should be ashamed of yourself."
His own words burned to his core, searing an ugly wound onto his already battered conscience. Teeth grated harshly against each other as blunt nails dug deep into the bare flesh of his own arm.
Lard ass.
A hiss of air escaped between his teeth as he scored his arms, blunt nails digging deep trenches into giving flesh. Red swelled to the top in a sporadic pattern, but not enough… Never enough. So he did it again.
Lard ass.
And again.
Lard ass.
Again.
Lard ass.
He didn't stop until his skin burned red, ugly welts scratching the length of his arm, beads of blood slowly oozing to the surface. It was okay though; the tension, that had been pulling every muscle taunt, eased, his ragged frame relaxing into the familiar sea of contempt. He sucked in a calming breath, his shoulders sagging under the familiarity that was his newfound serenity.
He was still so revolting, so vile and wretched. But he was working on that; he was fixing it. Soon. So very soon. He would be a person of perfection as well.
He would be a King worthy of love.
--
"Eddy, you need to eat. You're getting too thin." She was mocking him, plastering false care behind the mask of motherly devotion. He would not be mocked.
Eddy frowned as he pushed the food around on his plate. His mother frowned as well, her eyes a caricature of concern. He found his own blue eyes rolling in response, his fork flicking a grain of rice onto the worn table.
"Eddy!" his mother huffed, a palm slapping down onto the table as he did it again, this time with a fork full of grains. Her eyes narrowed, a minuet warning for him to quit, but he ignored the blaring warning signs as he took the entirety of his plate in his hands, blue eyes viciously locking with mirror images before nimble hands turn the plate upside down, the contents plopping to the floor.
He could hear the chair scrape across the floor, his mother's footsteps stampeding towards him. He felt the crack of his mother's hand across his cheek, head whipping to the side under the brunt force.
She was screaming now. Calling him ugly names. But he got what he wanted as he was unceremoniously dragged from the table, his mother's grip on his arm bruising. She pulled him through the first floor, nearly wrenching him up the ugh! stairs. He tried not to let her see how much effort it actually took to crest those despicable things, but he couldn't stop the panting of his lungs, no matter how hard he tried.
She dragged him down the hall and all but tossed him into his bedroom. He landed in an ungraceful heap in the middle of his sparse room, face never displaying the grimace of pain from sheer willpower alone. His brittle bones rattled at the jarring impact, but never uttered so much as a peep.
His wary body shifted as soon as his door slammed closed, leaving him to the sanctity of his hollowed walls. In the silence of his room, he allowed the scarce wince of pain to exist before he closed his ironclad barriers.
It took him a moment to climb to his feet, his form only swaying slightly on unsteady ground. He moved into his bathroom, arms immediately pulling off his bulky hoodie he had struggled to dress himself earlier that day with. Hesitant, yet obedient, eyes turned to his reflection.
He was thin, much thinner than he had ever been in his life. His hands almost reverently roamed the dips and concaves of his new body. He danced for himself in front of the mirror, a small smile pulling at his lips as that hissing voice in his head remained pleasantly muted.
He had lost almost all 'peaks' and simply became a form devoted to 'valleys'. He preferred it that way, absurdly so. He was stunning…
Almost.
Arms spread wide, his once soft smile morphing into a sneer of disgust. He was still too thick in places.
How revolting.
Skeletal fingers began pinching ashen skin, his thoughts darkening each time as his inner self roared to life.
'If you can pinch an inch, you can lose an inch.'
He spoon-fed that declaration to himself as if it would be the last thing he ever heard. It became his motto; it became his life.
Eddy tore himself away from the mirror, his huffing form storming into his bedroom, one arm chucking his hoodie across the room. He had allowed himself one-too-many binges this month, and it so very clearly showed on his sickening body. His being cried for retribution; it demanded punishment.
Eddy plopped down on his bed, hands diving into his bedside table to pull out a tiny, unassuming box. With practiced ease, Eddy flipped open the lid, eyes brightening slightly at his prize. Slim fingers grabbed the razor blade from it's velvety cushions, those same fingers twisting it to watch the fading sunlight glean off the steel.
One arm was already covered in the stain of his failure, so the razor switched between hands before it was pressed to skin.
A dig.
The drag.
Catharsis.
Heavenly blue eyes closed in rapture as he found peace, body unwinding as he fed the demon within him. He began to create a morbid picture of penance, each flick of his wrist biting deeper, lines drawn harsher.
He continued until he ran out of space, his arm a macabre crisscross of a petulant haze. With the upmost care, he cleaned the bleeding razor, patting it gently before tucking it away to be a secret once more.
Eddy sat still for a moment, eyes glazing with fascination as rivulets of red seeped to and fro. He watched his life drip away, a teasing finger coming up to dance lightly through the spilled essence.
All too soon, it ended. Eddy raced into his bathroom as he heard heavy footsteps stomping down the hall towards his room. As soon as he shut the bathroom door, his bedroom burst open, what he could only assume was his father's looming figure filling the doorframe.
A slight click and the lock was in place, but that didn't stop the storm raging on the other side of his flimsy barrier. His father's voice thundered, beastly hands pounding against the thin door… So much anger.
He tuned it out as if it were mere white noise existing in the background. Instead, idle hands grabbed that oh so familiar bottle, gleaming eyes watching as innocuous liquid frothed before he upturned the bottle, relishing in the inferno that ignited through his veins. He felt the shutter crawl the expanse of his spine, the feeling pleasantly forbidden. Air hissed between his teeth, eyes blissfully closing as nirvana eclipsed his senses.
With a disappointed sigh, Eddy reached for his gauze, wrapping the thin, loosely woven material around his pulsating arm. A hasty twist of a precarious loop and the absorbent fabric was secured in place. Tightly, as much as he could on his own; he wanted the pain to fester.
Ear to the door, silence now. With a steadying breathe, he opened his door, blue eyes peeking over his room. It was empty now. Like a serpent, he slipped into the shadows of his room, body collapsing into his bed as he watched the world bleed away.
--
Eddy, quietly in the bathroom stall, let his frame crumble to the ground. He was so cold, yet he could feel the sick feeling of sweat dripping down his neck. He had long thought that ability to be lost to time. But still, it trickled and dripped, the collar of his shirt soaking up the liquid like a desert.
His heart thundered, beating so hard within his ribcage that he could feel the echoing pulse through every inch of his body. Pale lips gasped for air; why was it so hard to breathe?
He remained there, his conscience tipsily coherent as that serpentine tongue whispered dark truths in his ears. He felt cemented to the floor, limbs so heavy he could not move. Black danced along his vision for but a moment before he found tranquility in the fireflies that bounced here and there. They were always so beautiful; lights so pretty that he felt conflicted to be the only one to see them.
Then they floated away.
Eddy closed his eyes, lungs expanding in a avid gulp for air, holding that stale, tinged breath within his lungs until they screamed. He blew the air out, body regulating.
Eddy dragged his body upward, clinging desperately to the roll dispenser as he righted himself. He unlatched the stall door, stumbled over to the sink and watched his reflection.
He was pale, so very pale; body seemingly translucent. His eyes traveled every purple vein along his skin, undulating and choked, yet still pumping. He traced the vein on the inside of his arm lightly, fascinated as the little thing wiggled and curved at his prompting. Dull eyes watched as it rolled beneath his flesh, a small smile creeping up as he tried to sever it, glee quickly fizzling to barren disappointment when his nail cut neither flesh nor vein.
An irritable huff, the sleeves of his shirt were roughly pulled down, thin material hiding his blemishes from the world. Cold fingers gripped the waistband of his sweats, pulling them higher on his frame, only to pout when they slouched back down all the same.
A quick curse, a pivoting heel, and he was back in the hallway. He made it quite a distance before he felt the thrum of his beating heart and the agony of spiteful lungs.
"Eddy?" It had been hesitant, but so soft and distinctively feminine. His feet paused, body turning to the face of his once vision of Heaven on Earth. Tired lips pulled back, teeth baring in a falsity of a smile.
Time abound, yet not a word more was spoken. He almost left, but a sharp hand clung to the fabric of his clothing.
"Eddy," she sang it again. It would have been pleasant were it not for the undertone of solicitous concern, "Are you okay?"
A scoff, blue eyes rolling at the frequent question. She took it in stride, a grimacing smile widening her perfectly painted lips.
"I'm fine." Clipped and cold. He kept the same tone, the same answer, every time, regardless of whom had been asking.
She gave a taunt smile, a manicured finger pushing a lose strand of golden hair behind her ear, "I didn't mean anything. You just… you look…"
Ah, she was hesitating now. Teal eyes glimmered in the fluorescent lights, burning with a thousand questions, voice caught between the dichotomy of companion and gossiper.
A quirk of an eyebrow and she spewed forth the first thing to lick her tongue, "You've been looking unwell lately."
She meant well, he was sure of it, but that snarling voice blared warnings in his head, thoughts so loud he barely heard her words.
You're fine!
"I'm fine, really." His affirmation, her quirky, unsure smile.
"Promise?" as if they were still grade schoolers.
"Promise," Eddy replied back, a thumb coming up as a gesture before he turned his back on his once-upon-a-time proverbial angel. He placated her, and she had been none-the-wiser.
Double D was in his room, all nervous energy and caged anxiety. He had been here before, so many times; he seemed on edge now, about to burst. Eddy ignored his friend, aching body moving around the room as he got ready for bed.
His bulky hoodie lifted from his body, torso bare to the world. He could feel the sting of goosebumps running across his arms, a bone deep shiver rocking his frame. There was a gasp, or what he imagined was a gasp; it was hard to keep track of the really real and make believe.
Eddy pulled a shirt from one of his dresser drawers, pulling the thin fabric over his head. He kept his sweats, these ones fit… well, better than others.
Eddy returned to his bed, sitting down as he opened his phone. He scrolled through his resources, liked several debilitating posts and even made one of his own.
Eddy looked up from his device as the shadow of his friend fell across his face. Edd opened his mouth only to close it moments later… opened and closed… open, close. He knew Double D had wanted to say something, but it seemed his encyclopedia of vocabulary escaped him at the moment.
"What's wrong, Sockhead?"
His eyes were wet, a trickle of a salty tear slid down his porcelain cheek. Edd did not try to stop himself.
"Eddy," so hushed, as if he said his given name, Eddy would break, "I'm worried about you."
Eddy tilted his head, a brow rose, an unspoken question lingered. Eddy gave a roll of his eyes, mouth turning down in annoyance.
"I'm fine." Short. Sweet. Too the point.
"No you're not." So he was speaking with venom now; not like this would be the first time.
"Whatever, Double D." he was beginning to seethe now, a quiet storm raging behind glaring eyes.
"No! Not whatever!" Edd was shouting now and the loud presence of his voice was entirely unwanted. Eddy sneered at his friend before he went back to his phone, shutting out the siren call of distress before him.
Double D would have none of that; with unexpected strength, a slender hand wrenched Eddy's electronic salvation from his weak grasp. Tears turned to anger. Eddy's own darkness began to blanket the room.
"Give me back my phone," a clipped whisper, barely a breath above silence.
"This! This is the problem!" Double cried, hands gripping the device tightly, knuckles turning white. A standoff ensued, light blue blazing as his own dull blue eyes burned.
"Give it back." He was done playing now. He needed his inspirations.
"No!" Ah! So it would be a challenge then, "You're sick! You need help, Eddy!"
Stop patronizing me.
"How many times do I have to tell you, 'I'm fine!'" Once? Twice? A hundred? Maybe a thousand more.
"No, you're not! You get on these… sites… and you let yourself be influenced… Eddy, you are not well." Edd's voice had been choked with anguish, but Eddy only heard the trumpet of his own horn, calling him forward in a march to war.
"I can see your ribs, Eddy." A broken whisper and the tears poured down. Eddy snarled, lashing out, a caged beast cornered.
"So I lost a little weight, big deal!" Eddy hissed, the shadows of his room darkening with the lace of his adrenaline. Icy blues widen before a hailstorm struck.
"A little? You call that 'a little'!" Edd was shaking now, "You look sick. Like a corpse walking! You are most definitely not fine!"
Eddy felt the ache in his bones before he even stood, his body violently protesting such abrupt movement. His form never showed the sway his world took on, but Edd saw it all the same in the glint of his eyes.
"Fuck off, Edd!" his voice like ice as he lunged forward, thin hands yanking back his phone. His body tumbled with its movements, petite frame collapsing back into the overly soft duvet.
But he was victorious, was he not?… Could have been if not for the firm grip on his wrist. Double D sat down right next to Eddy, his own arm yanking Eddy's into the dim light.
"What about this?" Double D hissed, his hand holding tighter as Eddy tried to pull away.
"What about it?" He was frothing now, anger so boiled it was hard to breathe.
"Look at it, Eddy! This isn't normal!"
Were they ever normal though? From the very beginning, were they not the societal outcasts born from the deep seated need for victims? Is that not what they always danced as in this morbid marionette of life? Always the prey, always the victim …
Always the problem.
He tugged once, twice, again for the sheer amusement of this crude display of friendship. His own eyes glanced down, a macabre crisscross of thin lines painting a literature of unspoken loathing bitterness that stung his fragile mind. Every scar, every harshly dug line, a testament to his own contempt and disgust at the mess that pulled together to make him Eddy.
He was still so damn revolting.
"What about it?" It was a dare and oh, Edd did not disappoint.
"You're hurting yourself!" A declaration as if he didn't already know.
"So what?" Eddy was reaching his limit. He had had enough of Double D's nosiness, "The fuck do you care?"
Edd looked shocked, surprised even; yet undulating underneath the surface was a speck of disbelief. Shadowing it all was the bleeding heart of Edd, his concern warping Eddy's reality.
"Eddy…" he said it in disbelief, eyes wide. The tears stopped, frozen in place as Eddy's words spun a snare of grim understandings within his own conscience.
"Eddy, I'm your friend…"
Silence encased them, one teen baring their heart on their sleeve while the other dead bolted the locks to his self-made prison.
"So support me then!" Why did no one understand?
"No," Edd whispered, his fingers letting Eddy's wrist slip through his hands, "Not in this."
He felt choked, windpipe crushed as his lungs savagely wheezed what little air they could. It was conditional; it always had been. Eddy knew this, despite what many of the cul-de-sac kids thought, he was far from stupid. He had a part to play and he was going to do so masterfully.
"You're nothing but a damn hypocrite." He wasn't speaking anymore, his conscience choosing to retreat in the darkness that sheltered him.
"What?" Edd look mortified, but that wasn't right either. He had no hold onto his cursed 'normal'.
"You heard me. You're a fucking hypocrite!" That harsh, sly voice forced through his vocal chords, "You sit there, preaching to me about what's normal or not. As I recall, you have conversations through sticky notes."
There! That! That bright burst of hurt as Edd recoiled from Eddy's truths; it had been beautiful, worth it even.
"When was the last time you actually spoke to your parents?" No answer, just Edd's glazed look as those tears gathered once more. It wasn't enough though; Double D needed to loathe his own existence, just as much as Eddy did.
"Do even remember what they sound like?" Burry Edd's insecurities in him the way they drowned Eddy.
Tears fell, sniffles filling the deafening silence in the air around them. Edd slipped off the bed, his lithe form curling into a defeated ball next to Eddy's bed. A quick roll of his eyes and Eddy was back in his realm, his dwindling fire soaked by the venomous content of his small moments of solace in a turbulent existence.
The lights went out, an eerie glow of his digital radiance illuminating the darkness. His haggard form fell back into the softness of his bed, fingers leaving one final plea before he fell away to blackness.
When Eddy woke, he awoke alone.
He couldn't tell if this was a reward or a punishment. He sat, alone, always alone, behind locked doors, a putrid display of gluttony spread out in front of him. So tempting, too tempting… He did not resist.
That piece of cake? He devoured it. Those freshly baked cookies? He inhaled them. His mother's lasagna? He swallowed it whole.
He was not stopping, not now, not when everything was so good. So undeniably heavenly. He allowed his body the sinister temptations that he often forbid, and the sin was so tantalizing. He took his fill, until it felt as if he could hold no more; and then he took another.
Left behind were nothing but grim reminders of what once existed. It was a haunting catastrophe of the weight of his own existence, choking chain dragging him down into an inescapable pit of self-damnation. He relished it there. His reward sweet like wine.
But, all good things must end. So, too, did Eddy's reward.
He made sure to chug plenty of liquid. He learned early on that it made this so much easier.
Knees touched down softly on his bathroom floor, body postured as if in prayer. It was, of sorts. It was his prayer.
To be better.
He huffed and gagged, body convulsing under the strain as he gave it all back. His throat bled raw as he choked on barely broken down chunks. His nail scrapped and pushed, adding to the already unpleasant sensation.
He could do this. He had too.
Eddy took a moment to swallow air, his lungs gasping. Then he was at it again, body purging itself of sin. A quick flush and then more.
More.
More.
Eternity passed before he could do no more than sputter out drool, his pale face flushed with a duplicity of life. His body ached, a bone-deep chill settling into his joints. He wanted this, craved it like nothing else.
He pulled the plunger, exhausted eyes watching as his eternal hatred disappeared down the drain. He sat back on weakened haunches, body trembling from his salvation.
Eddy sucked in a deep breath and then another, before thin arms dragged his wasted form upward, hands automatically going for his minty deception. While many could guess, no one really needed to know.
He spit in the sink, water washing it all away. He didn't bother to look at himself, his warped perception already disgusted with its reflection. Instead, Eddy stumbled into his bedroom, feet making it just through the threshold before he collapsed.
His heart was pounding, the vibrations of it pulsating through his head, making him wince. He felt numb, tired even. He tried to rebalance on his feet, but his world tilted and swayed, those obnoxious, but breathtaking, fireflies swarming his vision. A tear leaked from one of his eyes, a bony hand reaching up to grasp one of those pretty lights.
His body fell into unconsciousness just as his fist opened up to allow the dancing star free.
Time slipped away, the clock numbers turning as day burned to night. It was mundane, tick, tick, ticking away on his wall, the seconds chasing the minuets, minuets lapping the hours. A complete rotation of his incomplete routine, broken by the darkness sinking his being.
He fought through the thickness that swallowed him whole, body kicking, arms flailing. He could feel their lingering grasp, the ghost of fingers wrapped around him, pulling him down… down… down.
He so bravely fought, weak struggles managing to get his head above water, but only for a moment, and then he was sinking. Like a lead weight he plummeted, falling deeper into the icy hold of life beyond death, the saccharine sweet murmurs licking at his ears.
They sang him enchanting lullabies, urging him to fall deeper, to finally let go. He wanted to, but pulled back. Not yet; he would go, but not yet.
When blue eyes opened, they blinked listlessly at his textured ceiling, mind a kaleidoscope of thoughts and feelings. A small, meager smile tugged at his lips as he watched his dancing fireflies comfort him, disappearing as the minuets ticked on.
Eddy grunted as he pushed himself into a sitting position, lips pouting as the last of his companions fizzled out of existence. A deep, all-encompassing chill encased his body, minuet shivers racking his frame in an effort to warm his long dead bones.
A soft voice called out to him, muffled by the layers of physical and emotional barriers. Head tilted, mind clearing, he listened closer. She called to him again and it took him a moment to place that harmony.
Eddy stood, proud that he did not falter once in doing so, before he made his way over to the door. He gave up control of the lock and his door swung inward.
His mother glanced down at him, soft maternal eyes traversing his form, the light of worry growing more vivid with each pass over. Then she noticed his mess, containers and wrappers strewn everywhere. He saw the grimace, his mother's shaky smile and those glassy eyes.
"Eddy…" was he made of glass? Everyone spoke to him as if he would simply disappear.
"I'm fine." The same reply, the same answer, always. It seemed to be on automatic repeat, his subconscious providing his solution as if a divine mantra.
He turned his back, moved forward and stumbled. His mother's hands caught him, guiding him to his bed. She helped him lay down, fingers tenderly brushing through his thinning hair. She disappeared.
As soon as she left, she was back, a small bowl in one hand and a cup of some nefarious liquid sloshing to and fro. She set them down, pleading eyes begging to be heard.
"Please Eddy, just eat the grapes and have a little bit of juice." Was she commanding him? He couldn't tell, her voice skewed by his exhaustion. He shook his head, giving her his answer.
She was crying now, tears pouring down as she sat on the edge of his bed. Delicate hands lifted the bowl, one hand dipping in and bringing the largest grape of the batch to his lips. Feeble hands swatted her away; her tears fell faster.
"Please eat the grapes, Eddy." She tried again but was once more denied. He already allowed his body the pleasure of one sin today, he would not allow another.
"Please." A whispered prayer. Eddy wanted to laugh. Who was she praying to?
He turned away, every muscle pulling taunt to turn his withered frame over, his back to his mother. He heard the clang of the bowl hitting wood, felt his bed rock from his mother's sobs. It was peaceful. Her anguish brought him tranquility.
He closed his eyes, let his rocking bed lull him to sleep, his mother's cries a distorted lullaby sending him away.
When his body weakened and his fragility surfaced, he stop showering daily. It became every other day. Then every couple of days. At some point, it dwindle down to once a week. He wanted to be clean, but it took every ounce of strength to actually go through the motions, with many pauses before, during, and after.
That was okay though. He would give up his daily hassle for his compulsion, always. If it meant he could maintain his disillusioned reality, then he would have gladly gave it up, and more.
He started to miss school, days upon days bleeding together in an endless cycle of soul sucking fatigue. His parents allowed it, often watching as their second born succumbed to his weariness, body collapsing once. Twice. Near constant now.
He did not mind. School was just another setting to celebrate his failings. He gladly gave it up, if only to keep intrusive eyes away from him. He got tired of always answering the same question, always placating that disgustingly fake concern.
A blue tinge kissed his lips as his extremities emerged white, sometimes purple coloring his finger and toes. He remained covered, head to toe, always swaddle in a blanket of bulky clothing in an effort to regulate his core temperature. It hardly ever worked; that frigid hand held him too closely. A searing twinge of blistering cold kept him hostage, no matter how many layers he built up.
That was alright. He could build layer upon layer if necessary; it never bothered him. What was one more hoodie? One more blanket? To Eddy, it was a meager price to pay for his devotion. He was close, so close; he would not stop now.
After months of crippling fealty, he began to lose mobility. Just a hint at first, needing assistance in climbing the stairs, sometimes a helping hand to pull him out of bed. Then progression took hold; he needed help to stand, someone to hold him up as he walked, carried from floor to floor.
He didn't mind. He preferred to stay in one spot almost always now. He didn't need to get around; he was fine being cemented to one dwelling or another. Life was easier that way, less troublesome, more predictable. The only time it got in the way was when he was overcome with the burning need to reward and punish his body.
That's where he was now, chained to his stiff sofa, body curled under the weight of several blankets as flat, somber eyes gazed unseeingly at the TV. His mother had turned on some jovial movie, the overly eagerness and relentless cheer oozing from the screen making him flinch. She insisted though, said he should watch something 'lively'. He disagreed, but he had neither the strength nor the energy to protest.
Eddy shifted his numb body, arms pulling the velvety soft blankets tighter to his frame. Blearily eyes blinked, life to death and back again. He watched the vivid images flutter on screen, the brightness hurting his tired eyes. An untouched glass of vicarious liquid sat on the coffee table in front of him; he would not partake, not unless he was absolutely certain that whatever poison they were forcing on him wouldn't contribute to a shifting in his ever-declining number.
His mother walked into the living room, her small frame sliding onto the couch very near to his own. He felt the couch dip, his mother's arms pulling his alarmingly light frame over to her body, her slender fingers combing through his thinned locks. She began to hum, a forgotten lullaby from a time before.
"Eddy," her voice cracked, singed with despair and hopelessness, "You know I love you very much."
"Love you too, Mom." His voice airy, shallow breathing leaving him gasping. He felt those arms tighten around him, tear drops raining down on his face as he turned to look at his mother. She fought her tears, lips biting flesh as she strangled her sobs.
He heard a bell chime; he heard one often now, always calling to him. He heard the sound of heavy footsteps, watched as the shadow of his father drifted from wall to wall in the dulling sun. A door opened, voices spoke, and then more footsteps. A form passed his eyes, the image blurry as his world spun.
It swirled in a conundrum of colors, that lace of dazzling static bordering his vision as his faithful fireflies danced around him. Moments passed as all the colors bled into reality, blue eyes staring into his own.
"Hey pipsqueak." He was gentle now; when had he ever been gentle? Eddy closed his eyes and counted backwards from three, and when he opened them, his mirage of childhood trauma still knelt in front of him, a tentative smile plastered on his face.
"Bro?" He just wanted to confirm, make sure he wasn't hallucinating.
"Yeah, Eddy; it's me." Again, so soft, almost caring. It drove a spike of suspension deep into his core.
"Why are you here?" He was rightfully curious and completely unsettled.
Was he not punishing himself properly?
"I came to see you." Eddy's brow furrowed, a thousand questions lighting his eyes. His eyes shifted, looking up to his mother who smiled encouragingly through her wet tears. He glanced at his father; his eyes were red, as if he had been crying. That wasn't right though. His father never cried.
"Oh." It was all he could give and even that took everything in him. He felt his mother shift, her frame leaning forward to embrace her first born. The pair stood, walking away, like they always did when bro was home. He lost sight of them, but could hear the mumbling of voices not that far off.
He tuned them out, he always did. Why would he want to be reminded of his shortcomings? He was second best; he understood that now.
Another shift and a bulky arm wrapped around his gaunt shoulders, a firm hand squeezing his bicep. Eddy looked up, a frown marring his features. Big Bro was holding him, gently, as if he would break in a moments notice.
"What are you doing?" suspicious now, overwhelmingly so. His head swiveled around the room, noticing the complete absence of his parental figures.
"What? Can't I hang out with my little brother?" Eddy's frown deepened, a brow quirking in response. Oh, liar, liar.
Before anymore was said, his parents appeared before the strained siblings, a weak smile of his mother's lips. She was speaking now, muttering something about being back shortly, and then they were gone.
'This is wrong, so very wrong.'
Eddy shifted uncomfortably, the weight on his shoulders beginning to grind his bones, a wince catching his features. With much effort, Eddy pulled himself away from his older brother, tangled limbs draping over the arm of the couch.
He could feel eyes on him, knew that preemptive feeling well. He pulled closer to himself, away from the other, form automatically trying to retreat into safety.
"Eddy," normal tone, normal infliction; it was therapeutic for once. Dull eyes shifted, his brother's face a hard, unreadable expression. Not aloof, not cold… simply unknown.
"Take a drink." It was a command, ordered in that same tone that lingered in his dreams. Eddy scoffed, body slumping further in the arm of the sofa.
"No." He would not be persuaded, whether it came as gentle as a lamb or as boorishly as an ox. Bro frowned, expression shadowing into a glimpse of his past.
Silence now, the void only filled with the sickeningly sweet music of his animated movie. Neither spoke for minutes, wills locked in a stalemate.
"Please." Eyes widened, head snapping over to look at his once future self. He looked so uncertain, on edge, like a great cascade of something was just barely kept under lid.
'Had he ever said 'please' in the past?' Eddy didn't think so, not in any of the violent memories that haunted his psyche. The only pleading going on then was his own for mercy.
Say Uncle.
"Why?" Alarm bells were ringing, the red flags flying. A shadow passed over his brother's face, mouth pulled taunt, the faint sound of grinding teeth.
No words came, no profound epiphany uttered into the stark silence. Eddy looked back to his movie, watching soullessly as the characters bounced around their vibrant environment.
"Eddy," he was so quiet now, almost a hushed whisper, as if they were sharing secrets, "Am I the reason for… this?"
Eddy's brow rose, confusion clouding his thoughts. Bro wouldn't look at him, his own gaze glaring at some unseen spot on their barren wall.
"What the hell are you talking about?" His brother tensed, his expression darkening.
"This!" a large hand gestured to all of Eddy, "You not eating… and fucking hurting yourself."
His brother looked stricken, helpless even; Eddy frowned, he didn't like that look on bro, it didn't suit his personality.
"I know I was an ass growing up, okay! Just…" his voice cracked, desperation hanging onto every word, "Just tell me how to fix this."
"Bro…" Eddy was astonished, his once idol looking so broken in his presence, "What?"
His brother growled in frustration, his eyes suspiciously wet, "Tell me how to fix you!"
"Fix me?"
What was there to fix? He wasn't broken.
"Yes!" Bro's voice ricocheted off the walls, thundering loudly in the small space. Eddy flinched, that tone all too familiar.
Say Uncle.
Bro must have noticed his wince, as he swallowed the rest of his ranting, his form melting into his side of the sofa, far away from Eddy.
"Terry," he couldn't remember the last time he had actually spoken the older sibling's name. It felt foreign on his tongue, a weighted syllable that didn't belong. Mirrored eyes snapped toward him, chest frozen with baited breath, "You're not that special."
A floodgate of emotions exploded over bro's face… Surprise… Disbelief… Agitation… Fury. Many of the displays are ones he never seen before, at least, not in their sincerity. He was used to his brother's masks, always a false smile and charmed words; it was how he had managed to warp his revered vision of his older protector.
"What?" He seemed angry now and, to Eddy, that felt more appropriate. His large form was in his face now, cold eyes glaring as that twisted sneer bloomed across his features. This, this is what he remembers, that monster stalking his nightmares; this was his brother.
"Move, I can't see the movie." Eddy frowned, his weak arm sluggishly pushing his looming tormentor from his face. Bloodthirsty eyes instantly softened, his sibling watching as his hand trembled under the effort. A violent shiver crept up Eddy's spine, forcing him to bury himself back under his comforting dome.
A large hand took the remote and, in mere seconds, the once disgustingly colorful picture was now a black screen. Eddy unknowingly sighed in relief, his tired eyes welcoming the change.
Bro had moved his glass aside, sat haggardly in front of him. His hands rested on thick knees, head hung low as he fought for words.
Say Uncle.
"Cut the shit, Eddy." Another command and, like it's brethren, it fell upon deaf ears, "Why else would you be killing yourself?"
Truth. His brother wanted to hear the truth, but was he capable of turning his twisted ideals into literate sentences. He had the words, but words jumbled together only rambled.
"I'm not killing myself." Eddy protested, watching in awe as his brother fought a war in front of him at his response.
"You really don't believe that, do you?" Bro was seeking answers to questions he barely understood, "You can't even stand without assistance."
"Not on purpose!" Eddy cried, own eyes glaring at his future. His brother raised a brow in question.
"Eddy," they way he said his name sounded like it was weighted with grief, "Talk to me."
Say Uncle.
"Why should I?" He was resisting now, vocals harsh and weary. He felt the sigh that left his brother's lips.
"I'm your brother…"
"That never mattered before." He was bitter, but that was nothing new. Eddy had always been bitter about the past. He grew up in a shadow far too big to fill.
Bro flinched, his hands coming up to fist against his temples. A loud, groaning roar escaped his larger frame, catching Eddy off guard, his own body instinctively leaning away.
They were quiet again, the air only filled with his brother's harsh breathing; Eddy's own ragged panting playing softly in the undertones.
"I was a terrible brother." Bro started, teeth clenched, the words hissing through his teeth, "I was an awful, complete shit of a person, and I'm sorry."
Were this not an unexpected confessional, Eddy would have already tuned out his sibling's ramblings. But the biting words uttered by his defeated and helpless hero left Eddy cold.
"I took all of my anger and aggression out on you. It was wrong; I shouldn't have done that. I may have hated you at one point," Bro left Eddy feeling choked, a lump forming in his throat, making it hard to swallow around it.
So suddenly, he was pulled forward, into the arms that used to break him. They were so gentle now, soft even, and the unfamiliar feeling of safe crept into the warmth of that significant embrace. Eddy could only be hugged, his own arms bound in his cocoon of shielding blankets, glassy eyes widening as he sunk further into his brother.
"But I never wanted you dead," his brother's rough voice whispered into his ear. He felt that older frame shake against his own, the wet feeling of unwanted tears plopping against his shoulder. Bro tightened his arms, shaky breaths rattling their frames before he let go, settling Eddy back into his seat.
A plaid covered arm furiously wiped away any evidence of his waterworks, but the lingering redness that remained spoke volumes. Eddy was left speechless, mind empty of all rational thought at the sudden revelation before him.
Say Uncle.
Eddy was the first one to collect himself, fully believing his brother's theatrics to be nothing more than that: a brilliant performance. His petite frame curled back into itself, suspicious eyes glaring as he sought to unscramble the jittery mess that were his thoughts.
"What the hell do you want me to say?" It was his turn to be clipped, cold even. He watched his brother startle before a look of resolve settled on his face.
"Just… tell me why you're doing this?" Bro wasn't commanding, no; it came more of a request.
"Doing what?" Eddy was getting irritated now; no one understood that he had lost control of this disaster long ago. He was in free fall and could only just barely hold on.
The look he received was dark, damning even, "Stop playing games!"
Him? Playing games? Eddy considered this, but he could only conclude that he was sincerely clueless as to what his sibling was ranting about. Neither spoke for several minutes before a glass of sloshing liquid was all but shoved into his face. Eddy frowned.
"Take a drink." It was voiced as if it were an offer, but the underlining tone, Eddy grew up with, was screaming at him in command. A weak hand batted the glass from his face, irritation setting in.
"What? No." Eddy stated, watching as some of that colorful liquid spilled over the rim, gliding decisively down the glass to drip precariously to the carpet beneath them.
"Why not?" Bro was challenging him, shoving that damn glass back in his direction. Likened eyes glared into his own.
"Cause I don't want it." Had he not been clear enough? Did he need to spell it out for the older of the two?
"Why?" 'What do you mean, 'Why?'? He had no interest in it. Had he not expressed that successfully?
"It's just juice," his brother shrugged nonchalantly, holding the glass to him, even as he repeatedly batted it away, "You'll piss it out later. So why not drink it?"
Conflicted. That's what Eddy was feeling at the moment. His brother spoke true, but that so very angry voice speared through his thoughts, demanding he not indulge. But why?
"Can't give me an answer, can you?" his brother was domineering in a way he had never before experienced. He knew his brother well, knew his anger and hatred. Not this. He didn't know what this even was.
"Tell you what," Bro started, a challenge roaring behind that indifferent mask, "If you can give me one good reason, I'll leave you alone."
A deal then. Eddy's lips pursed as he considered; usually his brother's deals were a double edged sword, one he usually fell upon.
Say Uncle.
He thought for a long time, mulling over the various reasons that were being seared into his brain. He only had to pick one.
"You can't, can you?" Bro interrupted before he could open his mouth, "You know, that no matter what you say, it will be ridiculous."
Ridiculous? His reasons were not ridiculous; they were his own, even if no one but him understood them. They have sounded empty and possibly even childish to others, but to him, they were validating points.
"You're talking out of your ass," Eddy seethed, his hand pushing away the offending liquid harshly.
"Am I?" Bro challenged, thudding the glass against the old wood of the coffee table he was perched on.
"Fuck off, Terry." He spat his brother's name as if it were poison, not missing the way the large hands curled into a tight fist.
"Make me." His voiced whispered, an edge to it that Eddy remembered well. The youngest rolled his eyes, shoving away the various piled on blankets from his frame. It took everything in him to stand, unseeing eyes ignoring his ever faithful companions as his world darkened. He squeezed his eyes shut, lungs pulling in a greedy gulp of air before he slowly blew it out, eyes blinking open.
They were both standing now, Big Bro looming over him while he swayed on his feet. He loathed it, his body still being bathed in the shadow he could not overcome.
He began leaving, each step carefully paced as he made his way to his room. He was thrown into the fray of rapid fired questions, each one slamming against his carefully constructed prison. Eddy felt the heat behind his eyes, the sting of shame masking the wetness that followed.
Why did they never understand? He was fine. He was, really. He was in control; that's what this was all about. Control. He held the reigns to his destiny, no one else, only him. That sinister voice may whisper in his ears, but it was Eddy's choice to give in or not. He chose this.
.
.
.
.
'So why did it feel like he was powerless in the face of his eager vanity?'
.
.
.
.
'Why did it feel like he was losing control?'
Eddy could feel his ragged breathing, his spiteful tears spilling down he face. He choked on a sob, lungs pausing long enough to watch his world skew.
He couldn't take this. Eddy was at his limit. A war was raging inside his head, and at his back came questions he didn't know the answer to. It was all becoming a ruthless whirlwind of too much and not enough.
His world tilted, unstable feet giving out under his distress. The tears came faster, his voice choked behind gasping sobs as thin hands clamped over his ears. When the edges of his world blackened, and that wonderful kaleidoscope of static filled vision, Eddy willingly gave himself to it.
A wonderful mercy in the silence.
Say Uncle.
Eddy swam in the unruly ocean, each monstrous wave crashing down on his head as he sank below the surface. He struggled to get his head above water, but he was quickly losing all strength. His limbs ached, so tired of fighting a winless battle against a current far too strong.
He choked, mouthful of bitter water smothering his lungs. He spit it out, only for it to come back again. He wanted to scream, but only watched as words dissolved into ephemeral prisons of air. They floated to the surface, popping out of their short-lived existence.
He was sinking now, the weight binding his frame pulling him down, deep into the darker, cooler water. He watched, as the surface swam, a distorted barrier between this world and the one after. It was gleaming, a shiny conundrum of endless colors and shapes, of lights and shadows.
He stopped struggling, the fight futile. He came to be at peace with the crushing weight of the water pressing down on him. Welcomed it. The gliding, falling stars around him lending their comfort as he watched his world dissolve.
Tentatively, a listless hand raised, fist closing over the ever beautiful, burning star. He held it for a moment, a smile gliding over his lips. Then he let go, that dancing star pulling away.
In a moment of absolute tranquility, Eddy followed after.
LeavesofMyself: If you have made it this far, thank you for reading brief descriptions (using Ed, Edd n' Eddy) of what it was like when I was deep in my illness.
While it may seem like a choice, it most definitely isn't. It's a winless game that warps into 'for keeps' before you can even blink.
Luckily, I will be 1 year in recovery come June. I have a better handle on things, though there is still much improvement to be made.
If you are, at all, struggling with anything mentioned in this chapter, please, feel free to reach out. I have amassed many resources that may be beneficial to you in your own journey.