brittled mind

11

I am coming to an end of my first month at Cornell. I've yet to invite my family or visit them yet, but we talk every night. My roommate, Joshua, is exactly what you'd expect of an upper class, private school, Cornell freshman. We seem to be on opposite schedules, but from the conversations we have had, we both seem just as awkward in each other's presence. He explained how soul crushing it was to have to go with his "safety school", rather than attend Yale. His parents are members of the country club my grandparents go to and so far that's our only connection. I'm a bio-chem double major, he's in engineering. He goes to parties, rushes, and clubs, I go to the gym, library, and gym. 

"Our second segment of the human biological sciences introduction unit is going to be on nutrition and metabolization. Be prepared for a final project due on October 16th, feel free to double check that date on the syllabus," Dr. Roshauer opens his powerpoint. I copy word for word, feeling the energy leave my typing fingers. My brain feels foggy and my heart feels fluttery. I can't let go yet, not till I get into med school. 

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The next morning at the fitness center, I dedicate my time fluctuating between the bike and treadmill. I listen to lectures I may have zoned out on while I go, still I can't focus. It's 7am, my next class isn't until 9. Time doesn't seem to pass and my whole body trembles. 

65.9 pounds. I haven't even come close to losing enough. My fatass will never be less than huge and out of control. When everyone looks at me they can see the selfishness and disgust. Next class is chemistry and I know I'll be sitting the entire time so I really should run a few laps before I go. I can't think, I can't breathe, I can't feel. In my heart of hearts I know I'm dying. I just can't stop it. I don't think I want to. 

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"Hey, Len, is it okay if we come up this weekend? Or would you rather come down here?" My dad speaks after I answer the phone. "I uh yeah sure either works," I say. "Why don't we go there, the campus is nice," he suggests and I hesitantly agree. I pace around the room, knowing if I don't seem one hundred percent put together, they'll hold some intervention as if I am a druggie. 

"Len!" my dad wraps his arms around me and steps back. "Oh my god, what uh...how've you been?" Great he can already see how fat I am still. "Hi honey," even my mom has gone pale. We sit and talk about Halima and Isa. Halima's birthday is coming up and they want me to be at the party because "after all she's turning the big one oh". After forced polite conversation, my mom brings up the elephant in the room- me. I am as big as an elephant at least. "Hon, are you sure you're feeling okay?" she asks. My dad looks cold and numb. "He's not eating, I can see it," he mutters. "Of course I eat, I'd be dead!" I try to laugh. "Maybe it's cancer or something," my mom says. I try to roll with it. "You're gonna have to come home if you can't take care of yourself," my dad announces. "I was worried this would happen," he said. "You guys act like you want to see me and talk to me but no all you want to do is criticize me," I tighten my fist. "Honey, we're just concerned," my mom says. "There's nothing to worry about," I pant. "Leonard, you can't starve yourself anymore. Game over, we as your family can't keep doing this," my dad stands up. "You know what, you don't have to! Get the fuck out of my life, get out of my business, and stop pretending to care. Leave right now!" I point to the door and my dad walks to it and even my mom looks saddened. "We just don't want a dead son," my dad slams the door and I can hear him sniff outside of it. Too fucking bad. I tried to be nice but they want to interfere. I'll show them. I'll succeed and they'll never have to put up with me again.

I wish I didn't have to put up with me again.

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It's been a hectic few weeks. I'm barely keeping up a 3.0, my roommate left for a frat, and I feel like my same boring life is on repeat. I can't even bear to switch up my exercise routine. I haven't eaten any solids in 2 weeks and the thought of consumption terrifies me. I haven't talked much with my parents, only to say hello quite bitterly. I finish up at the gym and run to my stats class. The lecture hall is so cold and dry. I walk in the door and can see I'm late but barely let it resonate in to shame. The room is spinning. Oh god I feel a throbbing. My stomach clenches and I can't hear the blood rushing anymore I know that this is it. This is the end. I'm dying and I feel completely neutral. Real me would be horrified and my illness would be thrilled but I feel-