Just one bite.

Hunger.

"Just one bite, that's all it takes, to keep aches and hunger pains at bay."

I smirked at the thought of eating. It wouldn't be the first time I tried to make myself ingest something. Salad, toast, soup, pills. But nothing would ever stay down. It was as if I had some hidden spring in my throat that pushed everything out before my body could process it.

Weak. I was weak. Why couldn't I just go through with it? I had never seen someone as run down and pathetic as I was. I truly hated myself.

Looking in the mirror, I overlooked my bones grotesquely poking out to focus on the more important aspects. Like how my skin sagged around my stomach or how my arms looked like they could take flight with any sudden movements. I hated it.

I didn't want to be like this I swear. I just. I couldn't help myself; I was never good enough so I tried to change. Big mistake. I should have accepted myself for who I was. But was too late now. I had made my bed.

People noticed too. My mother- god my momma-when she realized I wasn't okay, the tears slipped down her skin cracking into her porcelain features. That's what I regretted the most. Making people grieve over me. There had to be a way to stop them.

But I had figured that out long ago, and it worked too. Progress they called it. Academy Award acting I named it. Faking it. Making people think that I was getting better when really, I was slipping down a deep hole without any qualms to stop myself. I didn't care. I wasn't worth the effort.

And I wouldn't stop, not until I was perfect. And they never knew it because an apple a day kept their worries at bay.