You Said

Dear Diary

The boy was not here at school today. I looked for him, hoping I'd get to say I hate you at least once so he would know that he had no soul. As if he didn't know that already.

My parents are starting to catch on again, so it's a repeated cycle of eating then not eating then throwing up then eating again. It sounds gross, I know, but to me it seems like the most normal thing in the world.

Unfortunately, they caught on too fast. Dr. Richards is coming to visit me at home tomorrow to do a "diagnosis" on me. They'll find nothing because I'll do what they say. What they want me to do. So I won't get caught.

Inside, I am burning, like a fire that can't be extinguished, angry at my parents for not trusting me even though I shouldn't be trusted. Outside, I use my face as a mask, to forget the horrible things I have done and am doing. I hide my deepest fears and weaknesses, afraid someone will uncover the truth about me.

Sometimes I got so tense at school, I would be moody and snappish towards classmates. I was once so frustrated I slapped a girl in the face, and was suspended for the next two days. But she deserved it--after all of the shit that came out of her mouth.
"I know what you are," she said, disgusted. She sounded exactly like the boy whose name I couldn't bother to remember. I guessed they were probably friends.
"And I know what you are," I responded harshly. "A friend-less, heart-less, soul-less shell of a weak girl who pretends to to be someone she's not."
"And least I don't plan the next time I'll throw up. But I guess it's easy for you, all you have to do is look at your face and it will make anyone want to throw up!"

"Shut up!" I screamed. "You are a coward and a liar! No wonder no one likes you!"

"Look who is talking! By the way, no matter how many times you get skinner, you'll always be ugly," she smirked, happy that she could make someone so ashamed of themselves. I was seething with built up anger and hormones, but never had I felt so satisfied or happy to have punched her in the face.

I saw blood dripping out of her nose, and I was thinking: Now who looks ugly, you or me? I didn't care that I was suspended, or rumors were spread, all that mattered to me what getting the justice I deserved.

I guess I'm not a person to mess with.