No one notices when you aren't yourself. No one really looks at you. They only notice if you're in their way. And that's how it was with my friends. I noticed everything. I could tell if your iPod had a new scratch on it. But when it came down to me, if I wasn't there, they wouldn't notice. It was like that since grade nine.
I could keep a secret, with the occasional slip of course. It seemed that everyone told me everything, even my family. I never understood why but I kept hoping it would stop. I just don't like being forced to not do something when I wouldn't anyway.
The secrets continued to pile up, everyone trusted me with secrets but not their company. I started to feel so utterly alone that when I was with them, I would just sit and daydream. They didn't care if I had input in a conversation, it was just as long as they looked like they were having a good time. It started to bother me as soon as I noticed that it happened.
It all started to really go downhill when I noticed that I had gained a lot more weight since the previous year. I would stand in front of the mirror before I got a shower and try to tell myself I was thin, that I was healthy, but it only worked for so long. The stretch marks on my legs, my ugly teeth, my short nails, my gross feet, my muffin top hips, my large stomach, my huge lips, my marked up back and chest, my horrid voice, my gross hair, my shapeless nose, my small breasts and an overall unattractive look started to wear me down.
I always had the thought of purging in the back of my mind. It stayed there like a tattoo. It was there after every meal, every bite, every moment of every day. I knew what it felt like, I had done it once a summer prior only because I had already been puking for the 3 weeks straight. But there was a part of me that just wanted to be perfect. No one ever looked at me and thought “Wow, she's pretty” it was all “There she goes again”. If I was pretty, I could catch a guys eye, maybe even get a boyfriend, maybe even be comfortable enough with myself to be in something other than a baggy band shirt and skinny jeans.
My high school years consisted of helping my friends with their problems, trying my hardest to get good marks, applying for music engineering schools in Vancouver, volunteering at studios, working for the money to get to Vancouver and pay for school, and wishing the days away that I could leave Nova Scotia behind me and maybe never turn back. I didn't want to end up like my parents and stay in Nova Scotia for life.
With all the hard work, I got accepted to a school just outside Vancouver on a scholarship. I left my old life behind. I moved to an apartment near the school, it didn't have any rooms, just a kitchen, bathroom, a clearing for the living room and a loft that was the bedroom. It was a good price but I couldn't afford it by myself.
The first month was half price and I had enough in my bank account for it, so it gave me a month to get a job and a roommate. The search for a job didn't take long. I was hired as a bar tender at a local bar starting at 5pm and going until 10pm on weekdays. But when it came to the roommate, it took a little more. I posted an ad in a few cafes around town and in music places, hoping for someone with similar interests to reply.
3 weeks passed and all I had were immature frat boys that always wanted to party, and slutty girls that just needed a place to get it on. But then one day, I was putting together a new coffee table when someone buzzed up to the apartment. I went over to it and asked who it was.
“I hope you don't mind, but I saw the ad and am interested in the apartment, can I take a look?” the male voice said.
“It's no problem at all! Come on up!” I said and then buzzed him up.
A minute later, there's a knock at my door. I open it to see a guy slightly taller than me with straight black hair, deep green eyes and a smile that made me want to smile myself. He was wearing black skinny jeans, a faded gray t-shirt and black high top shoes. His pale skin made him look like he was glowing.
