Pocrescophobia

My cinnamon brown eyes stare at the dismembered piece of what used to be food on the plate before me and frown as the greasy pile of calories stares me in the face. I sigh deeply as I rise, leaving the poor excuse for food on the plate as I plod along to my room. I used to actually ask to be excused before leaving the table. My parents used to care. Now as I walk out of the room, they seem to emit an air of relief. I can't really say anything though, I'd be happy if I could get away from myself. If only.

Oh, Arden, stop being a little drama queen. Well, sorry to say that this happens quite often. I'm always a little drama queen. I'm truly surprised that I still have friends. Then again, not many of them are my real friends that truly care for my wellbeing. The others just use me because of my older, more popular, more perfect brother, John.

John is the stereotypical American teenager, quarterback, dating the head cheerleader, perfect and cheery, an all-around good guy, perfect grades, and nearly smothers people with his kindness. And while my so-called parents fawn over him, I'm left for dead. Again, I can't blame them, there's really not that much that's good about me. And they know that. They even acknowledge my eating disorder, but do nothing about it. I wonder what they would do if John did what I do. No doubt go all out, send him to some expensive, perfect rehab to try to get him back on track, therapy, all that prescribed bullshit. For me, the outcast child? Not a fucking thing.

Oh well. I'm fine without them anyway. At least I have Cheyenne. Ah, Cheyenne. My best friend. And no, nothing more. She is strictly best friend. That would be gross, seeing as I don't even dig chicks. If I did, I'd probably go for her though. I don't know why no one does go for her. Oh yeah, there's the fact that she's a complete raging bitch around everyone except for me. I guess I should feel honoured, huh? I do, I just don't know why. She's pretty awesome though, a real kick ass person when she lets you in to see it. Along with the fact that she's totally gorgeous. I wish I could be gorgeous like her. Sigh.

Okay, Arden, stop getting so down on yourself. I really try. Most of the time. Sometimes. It's hard. It's hard to see the good in yourself when everything in your life just claims otherwise. It's especially hard to see myself as anything but fat and ugly with that asshole Cyan in my life. He's the biggest dick in the world, and although he is completely gorgeous, I will always hate him and everything about him. He's one of the reasons that I'm even this way. I tried not to let his words get to me, but it's really hard, you know? It's hard not to believe something once someone says it so much. 'You're a waste of space, you fat, ugly, fag.' Yeah, thanks a bunch.

Well, he's not the major reason that I'm like this. You see, when I was younger, I used to be really, really fat. No exaggeration. I was morbidly obese. So obese that I was bullied for it for as long as I could remember. Hell, even my perfect brother bullied me about it. But once I hit puberty and started to gain height and lose weight, well, I couldn't stop losing weight. I got really obsessed with my weight. Every single pound that I gained was another few days of starving myself. No one really asks how I lost weight so quickly, but I don't really think that there's much to the imagination. But as the years went on, the fat comments still didn't stop, especially from Cyan.

And as each day went on, I got worse and worse. No one notices still. I don't think that anyone ever will.