Identity | Depressed Todoroki (Short Story)

7 | Broken

This story is not intended to promote or encourage actions/behaviors such as suicide, self-harm, purging, or eating disorders.

Five weeks had passed, and after presenting another excuse as to why he hadn't eaten dinner, Todoroki ambled into his bathroom. It had been twelve days since he'd last eaten, and both his classmates and family members had noticed his growing thinness and refusal to eat. They asked him if he was all right or if anything was going on, but Todoroki was adamant about hiding behind his lies of being fine.

When he gazed into his mirror, Todoroki could no longer recognize the faded phantom staring back at him. The pigment in its skin had been washed away. Rivulets of aqua slithered beneath its ghastly flesh like snakes. Its frail body shook, and its bones jutted from the threshold of its paper-like flesh. Even its unique eyes were bereft of light and weighted by exhaustion.

All I see...is a tattered cloth of regrets. The remnants of an experiment. The constituents of what was once a whole. A definition constructed from habits and issues. It's not 'me,' and yet, there is nothing else it could be. It really is just a reflection—it's not what's being reflected, but it encapsulates what it is. It isn't me, but it is a tinted reminder of everything I've fucked up.

Todoroki absent-mindedly began to sieve the twigs that were his arms. Yet, what his mind reflected to him was not in the slightest what he was. He glimpsed back at his reflection, but somehow, he didn't feel as though the flesh ensnaring his body was his own.

My reflection is just another part of me, but I can't even love that. You're supposed to love yourself, right? To embrace your failures and mistakes? To be proud of who you are? But I don't even know who that is anymore. It's just...a mess of words that I hate. Labels I don't want. Definitions that cut like a blade. I can't even look at social media anymore. They make fun of me. They pity me. They make me feel ashamed. I wish I could be the people there rather than myself. They all look so nice, and they seem so confident in and comfortable with their looks.

With a sigh, Todoroki cupped his hands around his waist, and he traced his hands over to his abdomen. He still wasn't happy. He'd eaten to find a moment of respite, he'd purged to alleviate the guilt from eating, and he'd cycled again and again through the same self-destructive loops. But he'd finally broken that cycle.

Isn't this what I wanted? I wanted to lose eighteen pounds. I did more than that. Yet, it's not enough. The pain didn't go away. My views haven't changed. I'm not better at all. I got what I wanted...but it hurts the same as before. In fact, I think it hurts even more. But the only way my grayed, unknowing eyes can see a glimpse of hope is by continuing down this path, even when, deep down, I know it will never be the solution. I'll deny it because of the possibility that it could be my easy, perfect answer.

"Lazy."

I just don't have the energy...

"Desperate."

I want easy, instant solutions to mitigate the pain...

"Guilty."

I gave up on those old habits, even if they never die...

"Anorexic."

But I'm not...

"Insecure."

I just need to lose a little more...

"Ungrateful."

It's hard to appreciate anything when I'm too focused on trying to please everyone...

"Selfish."

But it's all for them...

"Liar."

I want them to believe I'm happy...

"Depressed."

I'm absolutely not depressed...

"Suicidal."

Shut up...

"I detest labels..." sibilated Todoroki under his breath.

He grimaced as he stared at his abdomen; it protruded from his body more than he was comfortable with. Repulsed at the sight, he averted his gaze, but rather than breaking down and sobbing over how disgusting his body was, Todoroki let out a long sigh.

"I'm thin," he attempted to convince himself. "I'm attractive. I like my body and how it looks. I like myself. I don't n-need to go down this path. It's not worth it. I can find another way. I-I can be h-happy. I..." He buried his face into his hands as his quaking, fragile knees began to cave in; he collapsed to his knees. "I can't... I've forced myself to swallow so many methods of getting better, but in the end, I know they're bad, so I get rid of them. But...I keep coming back for more. More, more, more... Always, always, always... It's never enough. Even when I refuse to choke anything down, it's still never enough." He curled his nails into his palms. "I'll win this war...by giving up. By doing nothing. By letting it take over."

A splintered, trembling breath escaped Todoroki's pale, thin lips as he thought, If I can't win against 'myself,' I'll let it win instead. There's no harm in that...right? Because 'it' is still a part of 'me,' and it always will be. It's not 'me,' but rather, it's my flaws. Every failed coping mechanism, every failed attempt, every failure I've seen... They're all hazy and gray. They've all become a part of me I can't get rid of, erase, or destroy. A soft, choked sob shattered on the floor rather than any tears. But I deny it. I deny it all. I reject it. I hate it. It isn't me, but it defines me. So, it can win. All of it. This is my last resort... Those words, those thoughts, those flaws... Let them win.

"I'm sorry..." whispered Todoroki in a sigh like an ember being extinguished. "You win. I surrender. We both hate each other...so I'll let you win. After all...that's what best reflects 'me,' isn't it?"

So, then...which side of the mirror does this identity truly reside in?

。。。|
and that is all. the eating disorder aspect is actually a metaphor.

but i hope you guys enjoyed, and thank you so much for reading. i hope you all have a wonderful rest of your day/night.