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The Life of a Teenager
Nobody Knows
In the beginning of this story, I wrote a poem called, "I'm From," and it was about the things that made who I am. But to be honest with you, that poem wasn't the whole truth. No one knows where I'm really from. Not even I do. No one knows the flashbacks, the nightmares. No one knows what happened to me to make me so fucked up. No one knows why I was bullied by teachers, classmates, and so called "friends." No one knows how or why I harmed myself in so many different ways. No one knows why I thought I was so horribly, disgustingly, FAT.
And no one knows why I became anorexic. No one knows how I got so thin, thinner and thinner and thinner until I reached a breaking point and got caught doing something reckless: shoplifting. No one knows how painful recovery truly is...
No one knows what it’s like to sit curled up in the corner of your bathroom, shaking uncontrollably as you cling to your knees for dear life and think: “That will be the last time, surely.”
No one knows what it’s like to feel the nourishing food you just ate work itself back up your throat. They don’t know the panic you feel, they don’t know the terror, the hatred, the utter loathing you experience when you realize how many calories you took in.
No one knows what it’s like to shove two fingers down your throat and purge yourself of much needed nutrients. No one knows what it’s like to sit there, crying because you don’t want to yet doing it anyway because you have to.
No one knows what it’s like to sneak into your mother’s room and take eight laxatives when the recommended dose is four. No one knows what it’s like to be completely empty, lying feverish on the floor, tossing and turning and completely certain that you will surely die. They don’t know what it’s like to hope with all of your withering strength that you will die.
No one knows what it’s like to be so completely terrified of food that even the smallest thought of just bringing one piece of watermelon to your lips nearly sends you into hysterics.
No one knows what it’s like to tackle each failing part of your digestive system after the other, knowing how to get better yet not being able to.
No one knows what it’s like, how frustrated, disappointed, and utterly disgusted with yourself you are when you try not to purge and yet still find yourself sending those two ghastly fingers past gums that bleed and down a throat that throbs with pain.
No one knows what it’s like to be anorexic and bulimic.
No one understands the agony…
And no one knows why I became anorexic. No one knows how I got so thin, thinner and thinner and thinner until I reached a breaking point and got caught doing something reckless: shoplifting. No one knows how painful recovery truly is...
No one knows what it’s like to sit curled up in the corner of your bathroom, shaking uncontrollably as you cling to your knees for dear life and think: “That will be the last time, surely.”
No one knows what it’s like to feel the nourishing food you just ate work itself back up your throat. They don’t know the panic you feel, they don’t know the terror, the hatred, the utter loathing you experience when you realize how many calories you took in.
No one knows what it’s like to shove two fingers down your throat and purge yourself of much needed nutrients. No one knows what it’s like to sit there, crying because you don’t want to yet doing it anyway because you have to.
No one knows what it’s like to sneak into your mother’s room and take eight laxatives when the recommended dose is four. No one knows what it’s like to be completely empty, lying feverish on the floor, tossing and turning and completely certain that you will surely die. They don’t know what it’s like to hope with all of your withering strength that you will die.
No one knows what it’s like to be so completely terrified of food that even the smallest thought of just bringing one piece of watermelon to your lips nearly sends you into hysterics.
No one knows what it’s like to tackle each failing part of your digestive system after the other, knowing how to get better yet not being able to.
No one knows what it’s like, how frustrated, disappointed, and utterly disgusted with yourself you are when you try not to purge and yet still find yourself sending those two ghastly fingers past gums that bleed and down a throat that throbs with pain.
No one knows what it’s like to be anorexic and bulimic.
No one understands the agony…
♠ ♠ ♠
People say I've changed. The truth is I just stopped pretending..,