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Notice the small things

"It's getting bad again"

"How do you know"

The girl could tell by the little things. She was very aware of her state and when she got bad or was getting bad. But she'd never say anything. She'd break down silently in her room or in the bathroom when her parents were out. Her brothers never took any notice but her parents did. Although a small lie was enough to convince them that she was fine.

She was loosing weight. Although her eating habits had gotten bad. They were never this bad before. She would skip meals someday, eat as less as she could even if she didn't do this on purpose. Or on the one day a week she'd pig out and eat too much. Making her feel fat.

She felt lonely. Perhaps she noticed this when each day hit 3pm and she couldn't find a reason to smile. Or when she had been exhausted to the point she couldn't do anything. Or maybe it was the sinking feeling and the knowledge that she was loosing her friends all over again.

It was always this time of the year things got bad. The new friends she made would talk with her less, leading her to think they hate her. Not that she ever thought they loved her 100% in the first place. A horrible feeling. So, she'd convince herself that they wouldn't want to talk to her anymore and so she would push them away. 

Until eventually, she was no longer in their lives. In the past she wasn't able to handle their lives. She couldn't handle being their rock when she herself was breaking.

And then she remembered the promise she made someone. A promise to keep trying, a promise to tell someone when she wasn't feeling the best no matter what or who it was. 

Guilt swerved in her gut as she recalled her breakdown in the bathroom the night before. When she tried to talk to someone but ended up not telling a soul. 

She felt like a failure for not sharing that. 

Maybe she was a failure.

The countless tweets she sent out having been deleted the day after. The stories she had written were glazed over with hope. But her hope was fading.

Hope is what kept her going. Sometimes she thinks she should've been named after hope considering how much she had. But at this time, it was slipping from her quicker then her toxic thoughts invaded her mind.

She was scared.

She hated being scared but the past few years it had been the feeling she became closest too. 

Fear.

She noticed that with everything she did lately, fear was erupting inside of her trying to stop her.

She noticed how her room got messier by the day. 

How she had no motivation to clean it.

How she stopped doing her laundry.

How she stopped being hydrated.

How she stopped writing her books.

Stopped smiling in the mornings.

Stopped saying goodnight to her internet friends.

How she stopped being human.

To others, she would look normal. But for her, she picked up on all the little things. And because of this, she knew she was getting bad again.

"It's the little things that matter"

Has more meaning to it then finding happiness in small things. For the girl, it was finding the little things that show her her own mental state. 

But, who cares about her anyway.