Tw: eating disorder/ body dismorphia/ self-harm.
I pluck at my belly fat that emerges from the side of my stomach more excessively when I sit down.
I raise my head to look at the mirror while still clutching my stomach.
But the fat doesn't seem to leave my body or reduce the longer I look.
I have been staring at the mirror for more than an hour now.
I should have been out with my friends, having fun, eating ice cream.
But I cancelled with them because... I simply saw my body.
Lately, I have stopped looking at mirrors because I started to compare myself with my friends or, literally, any other human alive.
I judge other people if they grow fat just as much as I judge myself.
I have let myself loosen this time.
I shouldn't have eaten the cake my mom made for me, for my own birthday.
She wants me to grow fat.
She intentionally must have injected the cake with oil.
No.... I am going mad. My mother would never do that.
I keep posing in front of the mirror, but it's not changing. The fat is melting out from every angle of my body.
Fat cells are like cancer. It increases everywhere without a cure.
I need to stop eating.
I need to stop looking.
I pace around the room, as if I could lose all that I have gained in one night if I just...walked enough.
I pace for longer.
I turned pacing into running in my square shaped room.
I glance at my watch, I only burned fifty five calories.
I couldn't take it, I started screaming and plucking on my fat more aggressively.
That's it.
I won't take it anymore.
I get out of the room half naked, ignoring the screams of my little brother.
And I search maniacally for my comfort knife.
Once I found it, I stood in front of the same mirror, thinking for a second.
I shouldn't hesitate.
This will only make me feel better. This will make me feel free.
Next time my friends see me, they will be the ones who are jealous.
They will compliment my new look, and they will envy me.
They will love me, and I will finally be worthy of love and attention.
I started cutting parts of my flesh, parts I thought unnecessary.
Parts that only made me loath myself.
Seeing blood only made me more enthusiastic.
But I couldn't say it made my parents feel the same way when they barged into my room.
