The Dying Girl ✔ {Slowly Editing}

Chapter 18: Amends

I personally think this chapter is good. Not even good great. It's my favorite one so more.

I hope you like it as much as I do.

I also recommended that you play the song in the media box.

I think it's what everyone in this chapter feels.

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It's been a couple of days since, well, Jason left me feeling like a total self-absorbed bitch. Pardon my French.

After that moment, was when everything went back to basically shit.

After he left I just stayed in that spot and yea. Couples hours I left, went home, got lectured, insults from my mother, and so much more than I just ignored everyone.

Every. Single. Person.

It's like everything I do isn't good enough so why try anymore. I mean it's obvious they don't want you to so why not focus on your self and your well being.

I know people must be calling me a selfish bitch who always want attention and more nonfriendly words but truly I don't give two flying fucks.

I'm sort of happy at the moment. I mean I'm still dying but I'm still happy.

I really miss Jason though. I didn't realize what I had until he was gone.

Jason was so kind and caring. He was so loving and gentle to me even though he had some anger issues. He was my sanity, my support system but because of myself, he's no longer speaks to me.

I sit down the classic generic yellow pencil that everyone is familiar with and close my Journal.

I've been writing in here since I've gotten sick. Sicker than usual.

I sigh and rub my hands across my face. I blink rapidly, clearing the fogginess in my eyes from the lack of sleep. I sigh and look at the mirror straight in front of my emaciated body.

I was so skinny my knees only touched each other when I forced them to. My legs thin as twigs, bundled in nothing more than soft, worn skinny jeans. What hurt me the most was the gap.

The space between my thin thighs, so wide an array of stars could reside there. So wide my knees didn't knock together when I walked. So wide they created a wind tunnel effect each time the breeze picked up.

My bones jutted out each and every way. My hands looked like an old woman's, skinny and bony and my cheekbones looked like they'd been dug out with spades.

I looked like an oversized gingerroot!

My chest so frail, the bump of each rib was visible underneath the woven cotton and knit. My face was so sunken in, the intense outline of my skull was detectable under the pale and bruised skin.

My face was so gaunt and pale. You could see where my veins were carefully crafted underneath my skin. My usually brown, joyous eyes were now dull and dead.

I looked just how I felt.

Weak.

Dead.

A small tear rolls down my face. I immediately look away and sigh.

Death can be a beautiful and ugly thing.

I look towards the door when I heard a knock. The door opened showing my mom.

I turn towards the wall opposite of me not saying a thing. I quite frankly don't feel like arguing or being yelled at. I just honestly want to sleep