Anorexia - My Story (Fiction)

What's the harm?

(Now edited:))

This is completely wrong.

Is this scale broken or something?

I stand on the scale looking down at my weight.

104 pounds. Exactly.

I mentally slap myself in the face. The nurse looks over and writes down my weight, and says she would be back soon, and I sit in the small room and wait. I hold my hands together rubbing them to calm my anxiety. I lean back and rest my head on the wall, closing my eyes.

I always feel that I'm doing something wrong, that my life is a waste. My conditions are taking over my life and I don't want that. I don't want to be a doctor anymore, I don't want friends, a husband or kids, I want to be free of all stress in the world. I want to be the person I see for myself. Life will never work that way, it will never be perfect, it just is the way it works.

Words formulate in my head and I instantly understand a way to cope with the pain.

A nurse walks in pulling me from my train of thought, but keeping it in the back of my mind. I'm excused from seeing the doctor and I walk towards the other side of the hospital, toward my room. I took the elevator up to my floor and went into the room and plopped down on my bed.

I sighed and pulled out some homework from class, crap, I have a essay due in 3 days. I groaned and pulled out all my notes from class; looking over them to begin writing my essay.

Derek walked in with two other boys I didn't recognize. One boy was tall, he had blonde hair that was messy until he ran his hand through it, and I noticed freckles that ran across his cheeks and nose, his dark brown eyes scanned the room and landed on me, but instantly looked back at Derek to continue their conversation.

The other boy looked to be about 5'5, and completely opposite than the pretty blonde boy. He had tattoos, running down his left arm and onto his hand. His other arm was completely bare but I could imagine the other tattoos that ran across his chest. He had dark hair, almost black. A single blue strand in the front of the long locks. The blue strand matched with his dark blue eyes that looked so strange that I couldn't even look at them, it confused me even more cause his tan skin, short height, and his sense of style made him look Hispanic. He obviously was toned but not as toned as Derek or the 'blonde boy.'

Derek however stood in front of them, wearing joggers and a plain black t-shirt that hugged his muscles perfectly. His brown hair has gotten longer than when I had first met him back when he had picked me up, and I liked it. His hazel eyes darted to my green brown ones and he smiled, his hazel eyes remained blank while he studied my eyes, face, and attire. I wasn't wearing my usual sweatpants converse and a tank top with my messy buns. I actually tried and put on a pair of skinny jeans with a v neck t-shirt and a jacket. I felt his eyes graze over me and his gaze ended up back at my eyes.

Derek noticed the change in my outfit and raised an eyebrow at my attire and I responded by me rolling my eyes, with resulted with his faint smile. I realized that his tattoo friend saw this whole exchange and was looking at me, then at Derek multiple times.

"Where you guys just doing it with your eyes?" His own eyes widened and he took a step back, stopping completely.

I simply rolled my eyes again and the blonde boy looked at his friend confused. Derek smacked him upside the head.

"No you idiot, this is my roommate, Rose" he stated causally and walked over to his bed and plopped down on it.

I faintly smiled at the two boys now looking at me. I could tell by them just walking in the tattoo boy was carefree, not having any care or problem in the world. Lucky bastard.