I'm Not Who You Think

"Smile,"

They whisper, but it's not

Like I can hear--or do I want to?

Everyday goes by,

And everyday the smile is harder,

Harder to fake, harder to wear.

For once, I want someone to notice.

But then again,

That is what scares me the most.

What if someone finds out?

What if someone knows,

I'm not this happy go lucky girl?

I wake up each day,

And a little more of me fades away.

I go to school,

And get good grades.

But what's the point anyway?

**

I wasn't supposed to end up like this.

Broken.

Shattered.

Torn apart.

I wasn't supposed be the girl who dreads waking up every morning.

I wasn't supposed to be the girl who cannot stand walking past a mirror.

That wasn't supposed to be me.

But it is.

I sigh and pull on my clothes,

Usually an oversized sweater to hide my flaws.

Anything to make me look thinner.

A pair of jeans.

I glare down at my legs, wishing my they didn't touch.

I sigh, and all it is all I can see.

All I can even think about.

Fat.

That one word tempts me away from the cereal, from the orange, as I make my way out of the house.

My stomach growls, so I fill the need with water.

Zero calories.

Another sigh and I head to my car.

I drive off to school.

I have a nice car.

Nice clothes.

And overall, a nice life.

But it's all so fake.

I'm greeted at school,

By my so called friends.

But they have no idea.

No idea what a struggle every day seems to be.

"Hey Stevie," they all say.

It's always like I'm the center of attention.

Most people would kill to be me, so I've heard.

They. Have. No. Idea.

"Hey guys," I smile. Fake. Fake. Fake. Fake.

Everything is so god damned fake.

I go to all my classes, complete all my work.

At lunch, I sit there with a bottle of water in front of me.

Sometimes spin an apple around.

I stare at my friend's plates like they're the enemy.

Like the enemy isn't living inside of me.

"Why don't you ever eat?" Samantha, my  'best friend' asks.

"School food? Really? Gross." I sound like a spoiled brat when I say this.

When really, it's my body, the spoiled brat.

Gross.

The word anorexia crosses my mind frequently,

but then I remember--I'm too fat for an eating disorder.

My eyes scan the cafeteria, and I see all these girls.

They're all so pretty, so skinny. 

I bite my lip.

As I see the food on my friends' plates.

I close my eyes for a brief moment,

And let the water slide down my throat

This tastes better than any of that,

Ever ever could.

Food is filled with enemies. 

I repeat this in my head,

And manage to continue conversation.

All with a perky smile.

while my stomach growls.

Another drink of water to shut it up.

"Stevie, are you coming?"

Samantha asked, her head tilts like a puppy when she speaks.

I smile, nod, and start following them.

I sigh, but this time of relief.

I had made it through another lunch.

After school, I hang out with my friends.

I do my homework,

Though I almost always do it in public.

This occupies me so I wouldn't be tempted.

When I get home, I eat an apple.

Only if its before six.

Usually it wasn't.

So I chug a bottle of water.

And head to my bed.

My mom works at the hospital,

So she's hardly home.

In bed, I wonder what she'd think

If she knew me at all.