First Light

7 jonah

Faye:

I light my cigarette with shaking hands, and take a long drag, feeling the smoke curl its way down my throat and into my lungs.

I hated the feeling of it at first, when I started about a year ago. I still do, faintly. I still hate the smell, how it clings to your skin and your clothes and your hair.

I've grown used to the feeling of the smoke, though, given how many cigarettes I used to burn through each day. Sorta like meals. Breakfast, lunch, dinner.

It's funny, how I think of it like that, because they were replacements for meals. Well, not exactly replacements. I still had to eat something eventually. But nicotine helps with the hunger. There's nothing more that I hate than the feeling of being hungry. I'll do anything to stop that feeling. Anything so I don't have to eat.

Sometimes if I think too much about food, I'll convince myself I don't deserve to eat, even if I want to.

But that's silly, right? Everyone deserves to eat.

Not me.

Summer is always the time when my anorexia is at its worst. When everyone's bodies are on display in those little tops and skirts and dresses and shorts. On display for others to judge and to look at, to compare to your own. I've always felt that my stomach wasn't flat enough, waist not small enough. Arms and thighs and face too fat.

Too many calories, you can't eat that.

Count them.

Stop. You're eating too much.

Diet, always diet.

Always ration.

Just skip this one.

Skip breakfast.

Skip lunch.

Skip dinner.

Weigh yourself.

You'll never be skinny enough.

You'll never look good enough.

You're disgusting.

Everyone can see how disgusting you look.

Thoughts like those control me a lot more than I'd admit to anyone. Sometimes I listen and they consume me, wrack me with guilt for even thinking about eating. Sometimes I tune them out, eat anyways, and I can always feel the gratitude from my body that contrasts with what my mind is trying so hard to tell me.

But, at the end of the day my mind always wins.

I lied to Gia, told her I would slowly give smoking up. That part is true, I guess. I do want to give them up, I've been trying to get better, eat more.

I said to her that I hadn't had one in two weeks. That part was the lie. In truth, it's only been a few days. Longest I've ever gone without having one was a week.

That's because of myself though, I gave in. I really wanted one, to help with the hunger. Worst part was that I didn't even try to stop myself. And here I am again, having another.