Sinking Through the Cracks

Painting

I decide to start painting today as soon as I woke up.
My dad has already left for work, but he made it clear that I was to eat the breakfast and lunch that he made for me.
I stare around my bedroom, making a plan. I dress myself in a pair of jeans and an old T-shirt that I've cut up and already dribbled paint on. I slip on some converse and and flowery bandana over my ponytail to start painting my bedroom walls with a base coat.
Now that they're prepped, I walk toward the nearest paint store. I hum along to the music playing on my phone, feeling warm and happy in the sunshine.
Starring around at the paint chips, I feel overwhelmed. Eventually I settle on a sort of lilac color that will go well with all the black and white furniture I already have. I lean over the counter, giving the attractive helper guy the chip for him to copy and mix up. Tapping my fingers to the beat of the song, I nearly miss seeing Anthony. He comes up to the counter next to me, passes a few color swatches over to the guy, and leans back, drumming his fingers to some irregular beat. He glances over at me, making eye contact, and gives me a art of friendly smile, like you do when you catch a stranger looking at you.
Having thought that my heart had broken enough because he didn't even recognize me, I'm proven wrong as a girl comes up to him, tilting up to pull him into a deep kiss.
I take my paint and pay, walking away quickly, a numb pain stirring in my chest.

She was so pretty. Her hair was golden brown, her eyes wide and doe like. She was tall and lean, but still curvy enough that she had full boobs. Her hips swayed as she walked. She wore tight, flattering jeans and an old T-shirt that looked so retro and perfect.
Anthony found someone else.
I've gained so much weight that he didn't recognize me.
I don't know what to do.
I don't know how to feel.
I just cry.
I walk home, tears streaming down my face, my arms sore from the heavy cans, and my chest sore from my heavy heart.