Getting progressively tired as I waited patiently for a reply, my stomach grumbled with dissatisfaction as I hadn't eaten anything in the past three or four hours. I felt empty. Arranging the room to distract myself from the growing longing to eat, my abdominals rippled with hunger, whimpering at my refusals. And even though I tried to control myself, I felt that I was gravitating towards the kitchen.
No. I stopped in my tracks, pinging the thin, but strong, white hairband that lay tightly around my wrist. I gritted my teeth at the stinging sensation. I looked at the length of my left arm, the orderly and straight scars from my self inflicted wounds were prominent. There was no use of hiding them. I could know my first scar from my last. Running my fingers along each scar, I turned around. Although my scars were in order and strategically done to appear neat, I couldn't stand what people would think of me. If I had anymore.
Resuming my position on my bed, I ran my fingers through my hair, conflicted in feeling. In anger, I slammed down the cover of my tablet. I probably repulsed him with my picture. Who could blame him? I'm a freak. Flipping obese and so disgusting. No wonder he ran away. I was ranting at myself so much so that I had been digging my nails into my arms, penetrating through the first layer of fresh. The pain was intensive but satisfactory.
Wiping any tears that deared to fall from my eyes, I walked from room to room until I discovered where the bathroom was again. One look in the mirror and I couldn't, wouldn't keep it in anymore. My puffy eyes gaped at my reflection. Blood ran through my half rolled pyjama sleeves and my cheeks swelled with my anger and tears. Ugly, so freaking ugly. It hurt so badly.
Hands shaking, I picked up my toothbrush and slowly spread toothpaste along it. Frustrated, I brushed hard along my teeth, concentrating my anger on myself. Four slices of cake, two glasses of seven up. It's a wonder why no one ever guessed that you had an eating disorder. I smirked sarcastically. Pig.
Continuing to abuse myself, I noticed a drop of blood fall from my mouth. Great. I had cut my gum from brushing so aggressively. Rinsing my mouth was painful, the pain burnt through me, adding to both the physical and emotional wreckage that I had piled up. I staggered into bed after turning the lights out in the bathroom, covering my shame.
Pulling the duvet over my head, I let the tears roll along my face. Grabbing my tablet, I flickered through websites to find My Pro Ana. Reading the thinsperations soothed me. I had been glutinous today but at least I resisted one temptation. Thinking if this, I allowed myself to slip into an uneasy sleep.