Skinny Love

I feel fine. I feel like I am getting better. I feel like I am gaining control of my life again. I don't need you fuckers to tell me what to eat and when to exercise. I feel happy.

There was really nothing for me to say in my journal. They never expected me to say much in my entries, unlike some of the other girls. I had never felt comfortable with pouring my soul out to a stranger. Which is horrible, since everybody in my life seemed to be strangers. It's a wonder that I didn't break with all of those emotions inside of me.

I knew that some of the other girls would probably be talking about that new girl in their journals. They would always get defensive when a new girl came along. It was like their territory was getting ambushed. The jutted out their chins, raised their sharp claws, and barked words at the new prey. How could I forget? I had only been in treatment for nearly a month, and they had made my start at the hospital a living Hell.

I was secretly hoping that they wouldn't act the same way to Isabella. Although, by her attitude, I could tell that she would be fine taking care of herself. I didn't know much about her, but she seemed to have a backbone. The counselors would have a hard time breaking her down and dissecting her life.

She seemed like somebody who could hold a fast for long, too. I would say that she could handle a couple of days without eating, seeing as her waist was nearly as small as mine. But I bet I could outlast her. I had gone a week without eating anything besides a single carrot stick. I ended up giving in and binging after the week was finished, though, and lost all of my work. I still bet that I could beat her.

After all, I was the girl that knew all the tricks. I was the girl that everybody glared at when I walked by. They were all jealous that I had figured out a way to keep my ribs showing, even as I was force fed. They wanted to be me, while I wanted to be air.

Isabella would be no competition to me. I could already tell by the way that she stared at me in the meeting today that she envied me. She was trying not to glare. And I was trying not to notice her staring. But it's hard not to tell that somebody is glaring into your skull. Every time that I looked up, she seemed to be looking in some other direction.

I jumped in my seat when the chair next to me screeched back across the wooden floor. Mrs. Morris dropped into the chair, her fat hanging over the sides of the chair and her second chin trembling. But the warmth in her eyes was apparent, and her disappointment had disappeared. It was replaced by hope. She still had faith in me.

“What's going on in your life, Evelyn?”

I really wished that she said what she really meant. 'What's so wrong in your life that would drive you to ruin all of our hard work?'

I was quiet for a second, as I always was when I was considering what would be safe to say. “I'm just finishing up my journal entry for today.”

She looked down at my journal, a bit curious. “May I read what you wrote?”

She already knew that the answer, but she asked me this question every day. “Not today.” And I had the same answer every time that she asked it.