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𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐍, 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟕
In the corners of my mind, where darkness and memories form a sinister alliance, time takes me back to another hospital room, far from this one, yet so similar.
Psychiatric hospital - those were the words that weighed heavily on my chest.
They said it was for my own good, for my own safety, but the room, the steel beds and the white, sterile tiles told a different story. They spoke of isolation, fear and the destruction of my childhood.
I spent almost half a year of my life within those cold, white walls, surrounded by other children who were as lost as I was. Children who had lost hope, children who had lost themselves.
It wasn't a place of recovery, it was a place where children who didn't fit into society were held captive.
Katie, who was five years older than me and whose charisma cut through even the gloomy light of the institution, was a constant shadow in the room.
A girl with eyes too big for her hollowed face and lips that kept counting. Calories, steps, breaths.
We shared a room, a fate, perhaps a kind of sick comfort in the darkness of our souls.
Every meal, every snack, every calorie was counted by her, analyzed and recorded in a diary.
I watched her hands tremble when the numbers didn't add up, her eyes narrow when she felt she'd eaten too much, and she'd start the calculation all over again, doggedly looking for ways to deduct something somewhere, like stingy pensioners filling out their tax returns.
It was as if she was chasing a hidden truth, as if a perfect equation would save her.
Worst of all, her obsession made sense to me.
Her excessive calorie counting became our evening routine. At first it was just a little game to distract us from the sadness of this place.
But over time it became more. It became my own obsession, my own nightmare.
Katie taught me everything she knew. Every calorie, every trick to fool the Nurses, every conceivable way to expend energy.
And I, the girl so desperate for approval, hung on her lips, letting her mold me.It was as if her disease had spread to me like a virus.
Her words became my mantra, her approval my lifeblood. When I didn't eat, when I cut my calories, she was proud of me.
And for a moment, for that one fleeting moment, I felt seen.
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