This was a very difficult piece for me to write. Please keep in mind that I am no professional and, by any means, mean no offense to anybody with eating disorders. If any part of this imagine is offensive or taken personally, please message me.
If you are suffering through something this fatal, please contact help as soon as possible.
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Time.
It was a funny thing for you. Between every hour and every minute, there was a purpose. Every second counts, whether it determined the rest of your life, or it ruins what's left of it.
Everyone relied on time, you would all die one day, unexpectedly or anticipated and if a second was wasted, it would haunt you until your dying day.
When you were younger, time meant everything. You counted the days until your birthday, new years and any other special event in your life. You believed each second mattered and that everything could change in the blink of an eye.
It wasn't until 2019, when all of your expectations were destroyed in the blink of an eye.
You lost your father.
An unexpected car crash in the early hours of the morning. You were at home, locked in your room because you had an argument with him early that night. Money was tight and you weren't able to go to your college choice. You told him you'd take out loans, but he refused.
Of course, there was other schools but you were too stubborn and so set on going to that one, none of them mattered as much as the one you worked towards.
You spat out words you didn't mean, full of anger. You worked so hard for this, to make your parents and yourself proud. You had never been so upset and it was the first time you raised your voice to get your own way.
He begged you to calm down, he said no matter where you ended up, he'd be proud.
"I never want to talk to you again"
You didn't mean it, you were just upset.
Your dad was already late for his meeting, he placed a kiss on your forehead. It was to show that he still loved you, even when times were tough.
"I'm sorry, honey. We will talk with your Mom when I get back from my meeting"
A couple of hours later, your Mom called you.
Her breath was so harsh you didn't understand a word she was saying. All you heard was 'your father' and 'car accident' and that was all you needed to know that your dad didn't make it. He was never coming home.
You spent the next few months learning to cope with his loss. You didn't understand what it was like to lose someone forever. The pain was too much, living without your Dad and watching your Mom change into someone you didn't recognise.
The only way you learned to cope, was to stop eating.
You didn't know how it helped, but it did. You saw it as a punishment, for all the horrible things you said to him and making him believe you never wanted to talk to him again. You didn't yourself, but you carried the guilt. You skipped meals, which wasn't hard because you couldn't stomach the thought of food. What started off as a coping mechanism, turned into something more fatal.
Now, time meant nothing to you. Every minute you were alone, closer to your end. You sat and stared at the clock in your therapists office and watched as the time went by.
"Y/N.." she mumbled, looking down at her watch to check how much time wasted since the session started.
"Are you going to talk?" She asked, long past her patience because the last sessions were just unanswered questions and the same expressions on your face.
