Scars
Mirror
I stared at the reflection of my repulsive body in the full length mirror hanging on the back of my bedroom door. I was trying to see what everyone else supposedly sees when they look at me. According to most people, I’m almost all bone with very little fat on me. But that’s all I am; fat. Not just fat, disgustedly revolting fat. My hips are too wide, my thighs touch even when I stand with my feet aligned with my shoulders, my stomach bulges, I’ve lost count of how many chins I have, my hands are small and pudgy, my fingers look like tiny sauages and my arms resemble a waving flag whenever I raise them. I am absolutely nauseating. It should be illegal for people as fat as me to live. An elephant on steroids would look skinny compared to me. Pretty soon I’ll need two mirrors to look at my reflection.
There was a knock on my door rattling the mirror slightly. I wish it had just fallen and shattered into millions, no billions, of pieces. That way I wouldn’t be forced to stare at my reflection whenever my door was closed, which is 99.8% of the time. Of course, I could always take it down. But I won’t. How else am I suppose to know if I ever lose any weight? I haven’t lost a single pound since I started my diet two months ago. Maybe I’m destined to be fat forever.
“Holly??” The person yelled.
My once apathetic mood changed into that of angry and annoyance. My jaw clenched and my fists tightened when I recognized the voice. It belonged to my backstabbing sister Claire. It’s her fault things I have escalated this far. If only she had ignored my existence as she’s done in the past, things would be fine. I would be fine. But I’m not. And it’s all thanks to her.
“Please open the door Holly!” She pleaded.
“No,” I growled back, throwing daggers at the defenseless door. “Leave me alone!”
“Holly please!” She begged relentless. “I just want to talk to you.”
“I don’t have anything to say you!” I shouted back my voice full of venom.
“Please Holly?” She requested pleadingly.
“Fine,” I muttered under my breath as I advanced to my door and opened it.
When she saw me, Claire’s eyes widen in shock. I wasn’t surprised. I’ve probably grown more hideous since she saw me this morning.
“Oh Holly…” she trailed off sadly. Her eyes began to fill with tears. “Why are you doing this to yourself?”
“Doing what?” I replied defensively staring at her with a frown. She shook her head disappointedly.
“You’re killing yourself.”
“So?” I responded nonchalantly, my eyebrow raised. “It’s my life. You never cared about me up until now.”
“That’s not true!” She fought back feebly. I smirked victory.
“I’m going to bed,” I said to her, the smirk still upon my face. I stepped back and slammed my door shut. I stood in place until I heard Claire’s footsteps fade away down the hallway.
Sighing, I turned off my light and trudged over to my bed in the corner. I got underneath the covers without changing. I laid in my bed surrounded by darkness, with the exception of the moonlight shining into my room thru my window. I stared up at the ceiling.
I knew what Claire said was true. I am killing myself. I don’t care though. Life would be so much easier if I were dead. Easier for me, and easier for my family and friends. They don’t need me. I’m just a burden, especially now that everyone walks on eggs shells around me due to my extreme mood swings. But that’s just how I am. It has nothing to do with my quest to lose weight. A quest I’ll either win or die trying. A part of me wishes it were the latter.
I closed my eyes and turned so that I was lying on my side with my back facing my bedroom door. I concentrated on my breathing and eventually succumbed to sleep.
There was a knock on my door rattling the mirror slightly. I wish it had just fallen and shattered into millions, no billions, of pieces. That way I wouldn’t be forced to stare at my reflection whenever my door was closed, which is 99.8% of the time. Of course, I could always take it down. But I won’t. How else am I suppose to know if I ever lose any weight? I haven’t lost a single pound since I started my diet two months ago. Maybe I’m destined to be fat forever.
“Holly??” The person yelled.
My once apathetic mood changed into that of angry and annoyance. My jaw clenched and my fists tightened when I recognized the voice. It belonged to my backstabbing sister Claire. It’s her fault things I have escalated this far. If only she had ignored my existence as she’s done in the past, things would be fine. I would be fine. But I’m not. And it’s all thanks to her.
“Please open the door Holly!” She pleaded.
“No,” I growled back, throwing daggers at the defenseless door. “Leave me alone!”
“Holly please!” She begged relentless. “I just want to talk to you.”
“I don’t have anything to say you!” I shouted back my voice full of venom.
“Please Holly?” She requested pleadingly.
“Fine,” I muttered under my breath as I advanced to my door and opened it.
When she saw me, Claire’s eyes widen in shock. I wasn’t surprised. I’ve probably grown more hideous since she saw me this morning.
“Oh Holly…” she trailed off sadly. Her eyes began to fill with tears. “Why are you doing this to yourself?”
“Doing what?” I replied defensively staring at her with a frown. She shook her head disappointedly.
“You’re killing yourself.”
“So?” I responded nonchalantly, my eyebrow raised. “It’s my life. You never cared about me up until now.”
“That’s not true!” She fought back feebly. I smirked victory.
“I’m going to bed,” I said to her, the smirk still upon my face. I stepped back and slammed my door shut. I stood in place until I heard Claire’s footsteps fade away down the hallway.
Sighing, I turned off my light and trudged over to my bed in the corner. I got underneath the covers without changing. I laid in my bed surrounded by darkness, with the exception of the moonlight shining into my room thru my window. I stared up at the ceiling.
I knew what Claire said was true. I am killing myself. I don’t care though. Life would be so much easier if I were dead. Easier for me, and easier for my family and friends. They don’t need me. I’m just a burden, especially now that everyone walks on eggs shells around me due to my extreme mood swings. But that’s just how I am. It has nothing to do with my quest to lose weight. A quest I’ll either win or die trying. A part of me wishes it were the latter.
I closed my eyes and turned so that I was lying on my side with my back facing my bedroom door. I concentrated on my breathing and eventually succumbed to sleep.