Fingertips

Truth

When I heard those words come out of his mouth, I felt guilty in a sense. I felt so selfish that I couldn't hold myself together and just say that I was fine. I wish I could've just lied. I wish I could've lied so that he wouldn't have to feel this way. I wish I lied just to make this situation easier. I wish I lied so that this day could've been perfect instead of disastrous. What do I say? What can I say?

If I lie to him now, he may never trust me again. What am I supposed to say? 

Of course! I'll eat food! I'll get better in no time! 

No. It isn't as simple as that. I wish it was. If I tell my parents, or if they find out somehow, they'll put me into all kinds of support groups and therapy sessions. They'll take me to a bunch of nutritionists and doctors and counselors who care about me because my disorder is what fills their wallets with money. It's almost as if my parents are investing money for people to act like they understand me and are willing to help me through my situation.

I've heard it all before. 

We can help you get through this.

I understand that this is difficult, but you can trust me.

We're here for you.

I know it's hard for you. 

They tell me all these lies when instead,  they can just tell me the truth. They say the same things to the hundreds of other boys and girls they see, sitting in the same chair I sat in, to make them feel like the words they're being told have never been uttered to another living soul before. 

I know better than to believe that some random person who was paid to listen to me and evaluate me, actually gives a sh*t about my well-being. 

I can't stand to sit in another chair, be forced to talk about my problems to a total stranger that'll just tell me to pull through and tell me that I'm loved, and make me feel guilty by mentioning all the people I'm hurting. 

In fact, their words seem more like they're criticizing me rather than trying to comfort me. If that's their idea of help, it's inaccurate. Don't they understand that I get enough criticism from myself, let alone my bedroom mirror? 

Mirrors are awful inventions as well. They're just reflective surfaces that exist solely to show you every imperfection and blemish on your body that everyone else sees. When I look in the mirror, all I see is a girl that has fat on every inch of her body. I can't get rid of that mentality just by acknowledging that I have a problem. I've already acknowledged that. So what makes them think that talking about it to a stranger who knows nothing about me and simply makes generalizations to try and figure me out can help me? 

I'm constantly searching for answers as to how people think this is how this can help me get better. And for those who do get better through this form of treatment? I envy them. But in a way I also despise them. If simply talking about the problem helps them? Why doesn't it help me too? Why is the world such a sick place?

You'd think I'd say that to him right? Tell him the truth? But what is the truth anymore? At this point, I don't know.

It's funny when you have an entire story to tell in your head, but all you manage to tell the person is,

"Ok."

"You promise?" He replied, looking up at me.

"I promise," I confirmed, plastering a smile faker than my statement onto my face.

Did I lie? No. Did I tell the truth? No.

What I told him was false at the moment, but it would be true someday.

I would get help someday.

But now? No. 

He smiled and I saw his eyes light up.

I couldn't help but think about how awful it would be if I suffered the same fate as his sister because I would no longer be able to see that smile of his anymore. 

It made me wonder if the generalized treatment would be worth it, just to keep that beaming smile on his face just a little while longer.

A.N.

So... this chapter was kind of just a look into how Phoebe plans on approaching her illness, and how she approaches life, really. I know she seems a bit selfish, but just try to understand her and why she feels this way, please. This chapter was inspired by a very deep conversation I had with one of my best friends, neeneebearz . And although this topic was not the one we were discussing, it truly fits in with Phoebe's situation right now, so I have to give her credit because she truly brings out the best in me. Go read her amazing story, Broken. Please vote, comment, and share. Stay tuned for the next chapter! Thank you!