Jessie is a 17 year old boy with an issue that everyone forgets. Jessie knows Hunger like he knows no other. He loves Hunger, and he's pretty sure Hunger loves him. Jessie doesn't remember what it's like to have a full meal, or a full stomach. Will someone realize their friendship before its too late?


10. "Happy" Birthday

Current Weight 118 lbs

Current BMI: 18.2

Total Weight Loss: 40 lbs


I'm 18 today.

18 years of breathing.

18 years of existing.

Maybe I was happier before being obsessed with the mirror. I was large then. But until 7th grade, I was fine with myself. I thought I was decent looking. I thought that someone would be able to love me for me. Then Trace Moores and Steven Robins attacked me in the locker room and taunted me.

I remember every second of it.

I was scared they were going to molest me. But boys don't molest boys, right?

Why does it feel like that was their plan?

It was a swimming day. I hated swimming. Though I was more accepting of my body, I wasn't the thinnest person. I didn't want to take my shirt off. I didn't want to seem like a chicken though.

That's when they showed up. Steven didn't have a swim trunks. He had his hard on though. Boy, was it small!

It all happened fast.

Their hands were rough and fast. I guess they had to been since gym is only an hour long. They walked out of the locker room, joking around. I laid on the floor, fully clothed, ready to kill myself.

If I was thin, I always thought, that wouldn't of happened.

Every diet out there, I tried once.

Only a few pounds were lost.

By the time I hit 16, I found Hunger. He showed me the way.

Every meal with my parents is a struggle. Every holiday. Every workout. Harsher. Longer. More tiring. But anything for Hunger. Hunger knows Perfection. Perfection says 60 pounds is wonderful, and I can be that little if I listen to Hunger.

But they look at me. My parents.

They made dinner. Sweet coco-cola ribs with grilled corn on the cob. Mom made her mile-high brownies too, since I can't stand cake. They shove food on my plate and smile way too much.

"C'mon, eat another rib!"

I've already had one.

"Eat more corn!"

Stop, please.

"What the hell are you? An anorexic?"

No, I'm too fat obviously.

"You're funny, guys."

Two eaten ribs, half a cob of corn, and a brownie later, I'm outside walking. I go into the woods and purge my guts out.

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