Bobby

There are a few things i am tired of. but none as much as this one.

I undstand (that is a lie) and know that i do not and find it very difficult to communicate with my parents. So, as a result i remain quiet i dont interfere much even though i want to , but i do not, because i do not know how. 

Since march i have been anxious, so anxious i cannot eat, on meal a day was enough, and i would jump into work and have 10 cups of tea or coffee because that was easier to ingest. June, July, and August came around and everything got worse, the sight of food was offputting, and with every bite i had to eat slowly, but when it came time to swallow a wave of certain nausea always came over me, but i knew i needed to swallow, because i knew i needed to eat to complete my daily tasks, it would be healthier this was at least. As soon as August began, eating became too difficult, but drinking tea was so easy, but that did not help with the lightheadedness, the nausea, that bile that rose to my throat everytime, the nightmares, the restless night, and the days where i lay paralysed in my bed not wanting to be...here,  but not wanting to be... 

When everyone did see me, those moments when i had left my room -my safe space, they all complimented me on how much weight i had lost, and asked me what my secret was. I had lost more weight in a month than i had lost in a year, all because i was too anxious too eat, too scared of having my body reject what i was eating- i was tired, i am tired. 

My mother was fairly quiet when she got back, but something i noticed, was the praise she’d always give my brother, but i always work behind the scenes, unnoticed, and thats alright (Not really). i love my brother like a sister does and should, but i too would like just a small bit of the praise he recieves, i dont want all of it, thats too awkward for me to handle, just some, a small bit. 

There are a few things i am tired of, but none as much as this one. I feel like i am a shadow, or a shell, or a ghost. I told Teddy- Bear about this, but i dont thiink he understands me, and thats okay at times too, but then he tells me how to feel about things i’ve personally experienced, my unique experiences, and then i get really... disappointed. It was small incidents, i feel like ive lost ,myself and the memories ive had- have....

“I used to be pretty.” is a thought I had yesterday. I had looked in the mirror and did not recognise myself. I admit that I have changed, I am not sure in what way yet, but perhaps my moon can tell me. My Teddy Bear would look at me funny, he doesn't like those things.

“I used to be pretty,” is what I thought as I zoomed into the mirror and scrutinized every last freckle on my cheek checking if they may have moved. When I had noticed pesky blackheads,I hate them,and upon impulse I reach for my cheek to pinch at it and immediately begin to notice so many more. It was as if everytime I blinked I saw more and more insecurities pop up- it was like a game. I see the blackheads on the line of my lip and see the hair growing out of every pore all over my body and my chest tightens. I panic. my heart is racing, and my eyes are red “When did my eyes become so red? God, when did I become so insecure?” I ask my reflection.

The tears stream down my face, and I sit down.