Status: Still holding on
Pretty Ruined
I'm not sick
I stared into the river, watching the moonlight bounce off the waves just floating so slightly on the surface of the water. I could feel the dizzyness aching in my head, and found myself swaying inch by inch to the sound of water lapping onto the banks. I could hear the silence of the night, the crickets chirping and the wind rustling through the long grass along where I was sitting. I looked up at the night sky, and only saw a few stars. But they were there, and they were beautiful.
I looked back down at the river, and found my eyes unfocusing. I stared into nothingness as my brain seemed to process everything without me saying to. I am so tired.
What would happen if my family found my body, lying face down in the river? Maybe my mother would care about her broken daughter then. Maybe she would regret never paying attention to her invisible daughter she's put through a divorce and hell. Maybe they'd all care.
A tear falls down my cheek, and I realize I'm still staring, unfocused. Not tonight.
* * *
"I'm fine," I try to convince this girl in my class at school, "I'm just not feeling well."
"You look sick, have you been eating much with the headaches lately," she asked back.
"Of course I have, I'm not sick," I reply quickly, as if to justify it to myself. I'm sick, I'm so very sick. And it has nothing to do with my headaches.
What people don't realize about mentally ill people is the face they have to put on everyday. I have to make sure people think I'm eating, when really I can't put anything but liquids into my body without my head screaming at me and warning that if I "ever do that again, I may as well jump off the bridge." So I act normal. I'm ill, I'm so ill.
* * *
I walked through the front door coming home from school that day, noticing that my mother must be cooped up in her room again, given that her car's in the driveway. She was supposed to be at work today.
I quickly head to my room and lock myself in.
Tears fall as I realize how sick I am. How dizzy I am. How scared I am. How I have nobody.
My eyes won't stay more than half open.
103 calories so far. 197 left. Then sweet sleep.
I looked back down at the river, and found my eyes unfocusing. I stared into nothingness as my brain seemed to process everything without me saying to. I am so tired.
What would happen if my family found my body, lying face down in the river? Maybe my mother would care about her broken daughter then. Maybe she would regret never paying attention to her invisible daughter she's put through a divorce and hell. Maybe they'd all care.
A tear falls down my cheek, and I realize I'm still staring, unfocused. Not tonight.
* * *
"I'm fine," I try to convince this girl in my class at school, "I'm just not feeling well."
"You look sick, have you been eating much with the headaches lately," she asked back.
"Of course I have, I'm not sick," I reply quickly, as if to justify it to myself. I'm sick, I'm so very sick. And it has nothing to do with my headaches.
What people don't realize about mentally ill people is the face they have to put on everyday. I have to make sure people think I'm eating, when really I can't put anything but liquids into my body without my head screaming at me and warning that if I "ever do that again, I may as well jump off the bridge." So I act normal. I'm ill, I'm so ill.
* * *
I walked through the front door coming home from school that day, noticing that my mother must be cooped up in her room again, given that her car's in the driveway. She was supposed to be at work today.
I quickly head to my room and lock myself in.
Tears fall as I realize how sick I am. How dizzy I am. How scared I am. How I have nobody.
My eyes won't stay more than half open.
103 calories so far. 197 left. Then sweet sleep.