Don't Go

Chapter 1

'Today like usual sucked. I want to leave this stupid town, I want to go somewhere else. Anywhere else. We've moved so much, why would one more time hurt?' I lay in bed thinking to myself.

"Why aren't I enough for anyone? Why aren't I good enough at all? Why is it that I fail at everything?"

I clutch my stomach, it rumbles, I run up the stairs into the kitchen and close my eyes. I navigate my way to the fridge and feel around for a bottle of water. I grab it and head back to my room. I lay in bed and drink it all. "skinny, skinny people have friends. Skinny people are prettier. Skinny people are happier. Skinny people are better. Maybe if i were skinny I'd be happy." I start to work out a bit. I have to be the best I don't care how long it takes. I work out until I can't anymore and let exhaustion take over my body. 

I fall asleep and drift into a nightmare. I'm falling down a dark hole, filling my mind with every word I see, 'Worthless, fat, useless, undesirable, air head, stupid, thick skulled, bastard, ect." I keep falling into this void until BAM! I hit the ground. It doesn't hurt like it should, so I just lay there and sob. 

I wake up, there are tear stains on my pillow. I grab my phone and check the time, 6:03am, may as well get ready for school. I grab some clothing out of my dresser. Dark blue skinny jeans, a black form fitting shirt that shows all my fat rolls, a black sweater, black socks, and under garments. I go upstairs and head into the bathroom. I disrobe and step on the scale. 113.3 pounds, this diet is working, but I'm not small enough yet. I get in the shower and turn it on, I examine every inch of my body, I grab my thighs, to big, I look at my hands, to fat, I grab my cheeks, to chubby, I look at my stomach, unacceptable. I feel every scratch, bump, and bruise as I wash myself making sure not to miss a spot. I was hair, trying to scrub every bad thing out and away from me. Trying to feel clean.

I get out and wrap my towel around me, I brush my long brown hair, I wish were any color but brown, I wish I was anything but me. I pat my hair dry and mouse it. Hopefully it won't frizz out of control. I finally get dressed, and start to put on makeup. Light cream foundation with powder, bold eyeliner, thicker than it is meant to be but I like it like that. I leave the bathroom and watch the daily chaos unfold before me. Molly needs to pee but Mom's hogging the bathroom, Dad needs to eat but Molly's throwing a fit to him about mom, and where am I? Getting everyone's things ready so we can leave and have everything all together. I get Molly's homework into her folders and into her bag. She's 12 years old and acts like she's 6, I bring my mom her meds and a glass of water and get a snarky "bout time" in response, I get her bag ready for work, I find her some clean socks, and find her shoes and set them all together. My dad and I are the only two who actually take care of themselves in this freaking house. This is everyday...