Weightless

Lessons

Going to class, I honestly enjoy it. It's not as bad as some kids say, but it isn't the best in the world. I'd rather do it than, say, stay at home, but a day just sitting on the roof of my apartment complex, huddled in a blanket with the cold mist climate, drinking hot cocoa made from low calorie almond milk and artificial sweetener enjoying the place where the WiFi is best, I would always prefer. I pace the hallways, almost tinted green from the terrible lighting as I pull my cardigan around my shoulders . I'm freezing, I wish I had worn more than simple leggings. The leggings, which should be hugging my legs, droop everywhere. Almost pants around my legs, which are about 48 lbs all together. An ugly amount, I'm sure, but I am constantly determined to make it go down. As I start speed walking to my last class, art, I shiver. Our school has a really bad issue with ventilation. Last year, they even had to close for a few months because of mold in the vents, now they make everything way too cold in hope that it will not happen again. It's stupid, because if they simply took the time to keep our school clean it would've never happened.

Stupidity.

I rush into the art room and plop down. Our teacher starts talking, as do we. She doesn't care if we talk when she does, our grades mean nothing to her. I've heard her conversations on the phone with her best friend. Her friends name is Elizabeth, I'm certain, but she does go by Lizzie. They are constantly fangirling about Ryan Reynolds. I shit you not, our school is a fucking mess. As the art teacher hands out these super cheap canvases you can probably buy at frickin Sears, I look into the board. We're supposed to draw what we want to look like. I'm serious. This is part of a curriculum. Kids just drawing what they want to be. No depth. The ordeal is so stupid I almost laugh. I start sketching out a girl, one who had longer hair than me. Bigger eyes, better skin, longer hair, basically a female k-pop star. And of course, she's as bony as a skeleton. My art teacher doesn't care, of course. As I finish up the eyelashes, some random kid snatches the canvas or of my hands.
"Ew, why is it so skinny? Do you want to be like that? That's not healthy you know. My mom once..." they started droning on and on until I broke them off.
"Are you done?" My icy glare makes them roll their eyes and give it back, as if their so nonchalant. I can see their hands shaking however, the simple glare of a kid they barely know who they expected to dominate with their supposed 'brainpower' had easily taken over control of the situation. I let myself smile, not a grin, a simply bemused smile with eyes like stone. Before I know it, the teacher is collecting the canvases. I try to count the pricks on her arm from doing drugs, but she catches me again. She rolls her eyes, and so do I. She may be a terrible teacher, but if I was her age we would probably be friends. I know how cynical, bitchy and mentally disturbed she is, so I can relate to her with a lot. We have a bond, of course unspoken. I'm the only one who basically knows she does drugs, and she knows I'm anorexic. We never verbally confirmed any of this, but let's be honest. It's kind of obvious on both our parts. As the bell rings, I slowly grab my papers and gently put them in my portfolio. They're so much more efficient and easier to clean than binders. As I bend down to grab a pencil, the flask in my pocket holding all my coffee falls out. The teacher raises an eyebrow.
"It's just coffee." I mumble. It's ironic, I have coffee in a flask while she has some type of alcohol in a coffee mug. She notices this too and let's herself let out the same amused smile I gave that trash kid who took my canvas. I grab my flute and go out to the busses, just pulling onto the curb as rain falls from the sky. The October humidity is nasty, as my elbow length hair starts to stick to every part of my body. I shudder in disgust and run towards the bus. The bus driver nods at my as I nod back. Sitting down, I start to check my Instagram account. The thinspo is gorgeous, although it's risky because some kid may duck down to see what I'm constantly sighing at and see a bare stomach in lacy underwear, thin as bones. They usually just scream, "Omg your watching lesbian porn???!!! OMG, WTF!!!"At me as I switch to a meme with a girl in her underwear saying some trashy line, and tell him off for thinking I was watching porn when I was "browsing through memes." The entire bus proceeds to call them a perv for thinking I was watching porn, because in this shitty conservative community porn is hell, even though, let's be honest, they probably watch porn too. In the end, I really think
Thinspo
Is
Worse.