heartbreak in many forms

i'll see you at 8.

(Mentions of self harm, emetophobia and eating disorders, proceed with caution)

——————

I hadn't processed that it was a new say until I had to leave. The aching of my skin pressed against my too tight trousers and the emptiness of my stomach pained me further. I didn't want to eat because I knew if I started I wouldn't stop until I had to throw it all back up again. Perhaps, if I just ignored it, the anger of my empty stomach would cease and I would be able to then finally relieve it with something small without then binging and purging all over again.

It wasn't like I wanted to throw it up. I wanted to stop the feeling of my heart shattering and it was easiest to do that with large amounts of food, an unstoppable amount that would pile up and up until my body became at least 1% of the food entering my pathetic excuse for a body, with words sliced into my legs and back every night. My friend had texted me and I knew if I didn't respond I'd be in for it later.

"Do you have a white shirt?"
It was at my other house, and so I told her we could go shopping after school to which she agreed with. I didn't actually want to go out after school but anything was better than the ridiculous excuse for a fucking house of four walls and family that never seems to care when I just stay up in my room sleeping the days away and craving the sleep to become eternal at last.

He had messaged me whilst I slept and I was too tired to respond very well. So he must've been annoyed at me for that. But I wasn't going to apologise, I was tired.

I was always tired.

We spoke for a bit and my words suddenly couldn't form into anything worthwhile so I left him be for the day, swearing to myself I wouldn't bother him no matter how badly I craved it.

"I love you"
Do you though?

I wouldn't tell him about the guy who flirted with me because he wouldn't care. I wouldn't tell him about the girl who tried to kill me because he wouldn't care. I wouldn't tell him about my friends who drained me because he wouldn't care.

Because I needed everything to be about him rather than me. Because if it became of me, it would be an issue for us and I didn't want for us to break up.

Thump.

What if he did want to break up?

Thump.

Maybe I was starting to bore him...

Thump.

Maybe he would date his friend for real !

My heart was doing kick flips constantly, and every time it landed it dropped, harsher and harsher each time. He was going to break up with me. He was going to cheat on me. He was going to leave me. He was going to hurt me.

He was going to hurt me.

I couldn't say it back. I couldn't say "I love you too".

Because I'd cry.
I'd cry.
I was crying.

Crying on the journey to school, like a bitch. I was a bitch. That's why he was going to break up with me. Why he was going to hurt me. He would never hurt me intentionally, he said, but he was going to. He was. He was planning on it. On causing me pain. Bad pain. Horrible pain.

Pain.

It would be ok, I would pretend to be fine. I wouldn't let the others know. I couldn't let the others know. They'd berate me and torment me for allowing myself to get my heart hurt again by someone I swore loved me.

Did he ever love me?
Will he ever love me?
Does he love me..?

Silly questions for silly boys I guess.

"Hey you there yet?"
"i'll see you at 8."

I should have said it.
I should have said it.
I should have said it!

I love you too.