You Said

Dear Diary

Today the boy was at school today, and during 4th period I slammed him against a locker, demanding answers. He wasn't there the next three days after I punched the girl, and then it was the weekend so I knew I could wait any longer.

"You told her!" I spat angrily. "You told whatever her name is my secret!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied calmly. He knew what I was talking about, I could see it in his eyes and the way he talked was suspicious.
"Yes you do," I continued. "I don't see you as a person, but to expose that is low, even for you."
"Who said you could trust me?" The boy smiled.

"You admit it! You told her!"

"I never admitted that. Your just making up lies."

"That's bullshit!" I yelled. "You told her, you bastard! I don't even know your name, and I'm glad I don't. You don't deserve respect from anyone, especially--"

"Maybe I don't deserve respect," he cut me off. "But you gave me it anyway. If anything, you are to blame if your 'secret' was exposed or not."
I was tongue-tied, unable to produce the words I was thinking despite how much I wanted to.

He shook my hand off his arm, shrugging me away and began walking in the hallway again.

"Reece," he called. "My name is Reece."

I can't stop thinking about today, about him and how much I wish Reece was the person I punched. He had that kind of face that was punchable.

I did not speak a word to my parents, except the punching the girl in the face thing, which they'd have to sign a slip. They were disappointed in me, but to be honest, I was disappointed in them.
How can you not notice what's wrong with me? I think to myself. It's as plain as day.

In my room, I called Kara, my best friend who has been sick for the past week to fill her in. Kara was like me: Eating disorder type, but incredibly good at hiding it. She'd joke about how much she loves strawberry milkshakes, but I was her only friend that knew the truth.
She laughed when I told her the girl was punched in the face by me, and sneered at the annoying Reece boy who I had just figured out his name.
"Yeah, he is in my PE class," she told me. "Just about everyone except a couple people hate him." I couldn't blame them. He was also that type of person who was very hateable, even if you had never met him.
We talked for a while, then hung up. So here I am, writing right now, wondering if life will get better. When my brain will think right, when people will stop finding out that I'm anorexic. The list never ends.

Anyways, I'll end it here, because my parents don't know I have a journal, and I sure as heck won't tell them. No way, no how.