Me

Not a Good Morning Sunshine

I wake up every morning to the sound of eight alarms. They ring, one by one. Eight because I snooze them over and over, until finally I slowly roll onto my back as I snooze number seven. I am awake now, although I feel as if I am just an empty body. I lie staring at the ceiling waiting for the eighth one to sound. Thinking about how I will survive another day in this life that we have created. Eight minuets, now the final sound of that last alarm. A painful reminder that I woke up today, my only thought of this sound is how unfortunate.

My once strong legs now quiver as I stand. I undress and stair at the girl in the mirror. She is thin, no she isnt. I pinch at my sides, my legs,  every inch of me that has skin I can grab and stretch as she watches, judging, as I wince at the image I see. Always a small figure, genetics. Blonde with that edginess of red in her hair, and petite as she, no as I always was (genetics). Blue eyes that were once potent with passion,they were piercing, noticed by all. They now are only enlarged pupils, which stare into nothing. I am covered in tattoos, ink that the pain and beauty that cover this skin with things I love, with passion. A girl with still the most grimacing face, rarely positive expressions take over her smile. I thought I was beautiful until the day that she arrived. This 5'2, now 80 pound girl is glaring back at me. This girl is covered in bruises, lack of iron I guess. I feel disgusting, dissatisfied, and ultimately disappointed with this reflection. This isn't me, I'm looking at a ghost, all I see is her. I can feel all my bones and I can see my hips, spine, collarbone, and the tips of my shoulders protruding from my body. Why do I feel fat? Mentally I assume I am, she screams that I am, pointing out every imperfection this person has. The girl in the mirror shrugs and turns away.

I dress which is more tiring than it should be, than it used to be. Taking another last look in the mirror, as she wraps this body in a blanket, covering this body so I no longer have to stare at it. Together we go down stairs and I'm feeling more dizzy than I did yesterday. I am shaking and still wobbly. I step outside and we sit on the porch, morning cigarette. Every inhale is a release. She walked me down, sat with me, then disappears for the few minutes about to pass. I take my time in the morning with that first smoke, for I am alone for this small amount of time. The nicotine calms me in a sense. As I struggle to stand again and walk to the kitchen feeling light headed, it's time to fight. She's with me again now.

I force myself into my daily routine, peanut butter and toast. Drinking a full glass of water first, boosting my metabolism. Making coffee, black. Sitting at the table now, I cautiously eye the food, and then the fight starts as I'm forcing myself to swallow each bite of the calories I do not want. I go back upstairs and get ready for school, makeup, books, bag, car keys, it's time for another battle.