Saturday finally rolled around after what seemed like ages. My reflection in the mirror was someone I didn't recognize. At 16 I only weighed 100 pounds and was 5 foot tall. My eyes shimmered, but were darkened by the makeup I wore. I draped a sweater over my shoulders and wished to be skinnier. My ribs slightly protruded through my flat stomach. I desperately wished to tell someone about all the nights I refused to eat. All the nights I sat in my room and tore my skin with razors. After a few minutes of pondering my choices, I realized I was too fat to have an eating disorder.
"Ready to go?" My mother's voice, sweet and loving, questioned as she pulled my door open.
"Yeah," I sighed, unhappy with my body.
"I've got a little surprise for you," She said grabbing something our of her purse.
All I did was raise my eyebrows because this day was already becoming grim as it was. Unraveled from the mess of things in her purse was a meet and greet ticket. As my heart sank, I smiled and thanked her. My depression wouldn't ruin this for me. Five foreign goofs had taken over all the feelings I had that related to love. I felt as if I was unaware of my surroundings as I took a moment to stop thinking and realized I had made my way to the car.
An hour later and all I heard from the stage was, "Hello, we are One Direction!"
