brittled mind

2

100.1

Just 0.2 from where I need to be to feel justified in being hungry. My dad watches me a bit closer now. I sling my backpack on my shoulder, make a racket in the kitchen by opening cupboards and the fridge, rattling a spoon and bowl. My dad comes down the stairs as I put the unused bowl in the dishwasher. "What'd you have for breakfast?" He sounds suspicious. "Some cereal," I shrug. "That's not a whole lot," his voice goes down. "I'll probably eat a big lunch if I'm hungry," I say. He opens his mouth to say something, but shuts it. We say a forced goodbye and I walk out the door. 

All of the neighborhood has beautiful Christmas lights and trees in their window.  I feel none of the Christmas spirit, but I assume that's what getting older feels like. The bus rolls around and I hesitate to get on. Every single move felt torturous. My lungs were forcing sharp breaths in and my legs wobbled. Damn, I'm so fat I can't even get on the bus? This has to change. My headphones begin to fall out so I have to readjust them to hear whatever nonsense song is on my recommended. 

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I get into Mrs. Rosetti's class just as the bell rings. She passes around an excerpt from our textbooks. Why can't we just open the book? What a waste of paper. Ooo was that a fly in the corner? Wait what am I doing?! Why can't I focus? Len, you idiot, just focus! "Whenever you're ready, Leonard," I snap out of my clouded thoughts and don't realize what she's saying. "What?" I simply gaze around. She turns around "Jessica, how about you read it?" and she confidently reads aloud some old-time literature that clearly I didn't know I had to read. I pick up my water bottle and just chug until there's nothing left. I feel full and I hate it. Why did I drink water and let it fill me up?! It probably has sodium in it since it's tap and sodium will make me retain water. What have I done?!

Mrs. Rosetti dismisses the class and calls me over, but I pretend not to hear as I walk out in panic. I turn around and she looks disappointed.

A few hours later, it's lunchtime. I sit down at my usual table with my re-filled water bottle and bag of grapes and crackers. "Hey Len, you want some of my pizza?" Ethan says, dangling a glob of grease and cheese in his hands. I just shake my head. "Look man, I don't want to invade your privacy but," he starts and I give him a cold glare. "Um are you having financial problems or something?" He asks fiddling with his pizza. "What? Um no, I mean we're not rich but uh, why'd you ask?" He catches me completely off guard. "It's just that you never eat much if at all and your clothes are all baggy I thought maybe your mom got laid off or something" He takes a bite. "No, I mean, well no," I start and stop. I cut my grapes apart into quarters but feel distressed into eighths and maybe I'll go for sixteenths just to show h- "No wonder he looks anorexic, Leah, Len's got those grapes into crumbs," I hear a familiar laugh. Mallory. School bitch who has a thing for being less than supportive. But why is looking anorexic a compliment? I know with her tone and just who she is it's meant as an insult but nothing feels better than being told I look like someone with the capability to control and not need. "Fuck off, Mallory.It's not his fault he can't afford lunch," Ethan says. Excuse me?! I see Mallory look a bit uncomfortable as she actually APOLOGIZES. "I will uh, buy you lunch," she says. "It's okay, I'm not that hungry." I see her smirk as she hears exactly what she wanted to. 

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I feel my life as if it's one day on repeat. I run, go to school, come home, work out and do homework, fake my dinner, and end my day in bed wishing for something to kill me at some point. I've always been depressed but never suicidal and now I just don't care about life at all.My chest hurts and my tongue feels numb. There's nothing keeping me from dying yet I still feel compelled to live. Perhaps because I want to feel myself shrink. Or maybe I fear people would remember me as fat. But deep down none of those have any affect. There's something deeper keeping me here. I have some sort of drive or purpose I have tricked myself into believing. I must be worthless, but why haven't I died yet?

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The next day, I'm packing up my backpack when my dad catches me. "Oh hey Dad, I didn't know you were up," I sling my bag over my shoulder. "Felt like a good cup of coffee early today. Did you grab breakfast?" He asks. "Yup, just a moment ago," I say not completely dishonestly. I had some tea and even broke my fast with some honey in it. "Bye dad," I hug him and run out. That was a close call. I hate watching the way he yearns to be closer as I push away. We used to be the best of friends until I started high school but even then we were close. I consider the fact that I'm afraid to let him in but that's weak.