Weightless.
Rumors.
He hears the rumors, stage-whispered as he walks down the hallways. Some say aids. A majority though, suspects drugs. Heroin or meth. That’s the only way he could have lost that much weight. They say that the days he’s not at school he’s off getting his fix, selling his body in return for the illicit substances and that’s where the bruises come from. Rough customers. They think he wears baggy clothes to hide scars from needles. They think they have him all figured out but they don’t know a damn thing.
No one considers the truth. And if they have any idea they keep quiet about it. That he’s forcing his body to shed the pounds. Missing school on days he’s to weak to even fall out of bed or feeling to insecure to leave his house. He bruises easily because his bones are becoming brittle and his skin fragile. The baggy clothes hide pounds of fat, visible to him and no one else. Hide scars and angry red slashes in his skin. They don’t think 'eating disorder.' That’s too cliché. So it has to be drugs
xxx
First block is a blur. Civics and economics. He doesn't care about the government because everything taught is bullshit. He would have shared his opinion had his thoughts not been otherwise preoccupied with, his mind filled with her voice. 'Can barely fit in your desk. Your stomach is huge whenever you inhale. Everyone’s staring at you, monstrosity. Why aren't you the thinnest person in this room? Pathetic. And fat. Always fat. '
He lets the words sink in. They are true of course, Ana has never been wrong before. He grips the desk trying not to think about the cup of coffee he drank. 220 calories worth of caffeine and ground beans. All before 9am. He presses his spine into the back of the seat, the dull pain slowing his rapid heartbeat as he thinks of the work out he'll do when he gets home. Ana whispers encouragements, showing him images of rail thin boys. All skin and bones and not much else, he wants it. Willing to die for it.
No one considers the truth. And if they have any idea they keep quiet about it. That he’s forcing his body to shed the pounds. Missing school on days he’s to weak to even fall out of bed or feeling to insecure to leave his house. He bruises easily because his bones are becoming brittle and his skin fragile. The baggy clothes hide pounds of fat, visible to him and no one else. Hide scars and angry red slashes in his skin. They don’t think 'eating disorder.' That’s too cliché. So it has to be drugs
xxx
First block is a blur. Civics and economics. He doesn't care about the government because everything taught is bullshit. He would have shared his opinion had his thoughts not been otherwise preoccupied with, his mind filled with her voice. 'Can barely fit in your desk. Your stomach is huge whenever you inhale. Everyone’s staring at you, monstrosity. Why aren't you the thinnest person in this room? Pathetic. And fat. Always fat. '
He lets the words sink in. They are true of course, Ana has never been wrong before. He grips the desk trying not to think about the cup of coffee he drank. 220 calories worth of caffeine and ground beans. All before 9am. He presses his spine into the back of the seat, the dull pain slowing his rapid heartbeat as he thinks of the work out he'll do when he gets home. Ana whispers encouragements, showing him images of rail thin boys. All skin and bones and not much else, he wants it. Willing to die for it.
♠ ♠ ♠
I know it is written in a weird way. I usually write in 1st person but I want to try something different. Most of this chapter comes fron my actual journal, and a majority of the chapters will include meals/calorie counts from my actual food diary