Nervosa

"You have to eat something, Mikey." It's all I seem to hear now. I can't have a conversation with my brother anymore without him telling me his concerns for my body. I can't walk around in school anymore without people telling me I'm too skinny. I can't just be at home without my mother trying to force feed me. They're all just trying to get my to eat. Why? I don't want to eat, why should I have to? I eat only when my mother forces me to, and then I vomit it all back up, as if it had never touched my mouth. On other days, I just take the food that my mother lets me take into my room, and throw it away. Usually I take it later on in the night, when the whole house is asleep, and throw it in the trashcan. I don't want anything to do with food. The thought alone about me eating food or even looking at food makes me want to gag.

I won't eat for weeks at a time, trying my damned not to eat anything. Yet, I still puke everything that is inside of me up. Usually it's just stomach acids that will some day rot my teeth out. But what will it matter? I speak to no one outside of the comfort of my own house, so who will see them? Who would care? The stomach acids leave my throat feeling raw, and my mouth tasting awful. I hate the discomfort of my throat after I'm done, and the fact that I've been doing this since the sixth grade, yet my size gets no slimmer. The scale, the mirror, my clothes, they don't lie to me. They let me know that I'm fucking fat as hell. They tell me every day that I need to drop the weight.

Nothing gets through my mouth for more than an hour, and then it comes back up. Then that makes me question, why can I get no slimmer? Why am I still as fat as I was yesterday? I've taken diet pills, puked up all the food that enters my mouth, yet nothing works. I find myself avoiding mirrors, so that I can't see myself, more than I do anything else. I don't go anywhere besides the horrid place on Passaic Avenue, for the fear that everyone is looking at me. I don't want to be like my brother was when he entered his first year of high school. He used to be tormented about his weight. I don't want to be like that. I want nothing to do with being laughed at for weighing anything at all. I have no friends as it is, besides Gerard, letting me know everyone is repelled by the dissatisfaction they get from looking at me.

I'm in the tenth grade and I've never had a girlfriend. I get called gay all the time for it, yet I've never had a boyfriend either. I have no attraction towards anyone what-so-ever. I find no reason to like anyone who can just leave you at any time for someone thinner. Never had a relationship, and I've never had a single friend either. The only person I associate myself with is Gerard. Since he's my brother, I can't really count him, right? Other than him, I don't have any "friends." What is a friend? I don't want someone who can come over and be happy with me. I don't want to be happy. I don't deserve to be happy. I don't want someone who can come over and show me how much skinnier they are compared to me. And I don't want to be someone who walks around with another person and make them look skinnier than a fake magazine model because of how fat I am. I don't want to be someone who people like. I'm not worth the trouble of liking.

At school I'm like a walking freak show. Everyone finds it mandatory to stare me down, and usually, it's to tell me to eat something. Why? So that when I do you can laugh at me and call me fat. So that when I do you can tell me to lose the weight? I can't stand their fucking eyes staring holes into my head, I get enough stares when I look at myself. I get enough dissatisfaction when I see my own body in the shower. I get enough hatred when I see glimpses of my skin in a mirror, trapped in a parallel world. I don't need a reminder that my jacket in clinging to every inch of my body that it covers, I don't need a reminder that I need to lose weight, and I don't need another reminder on why the world is such a fucking sick world. I know everyone is lying to me. . .mirrors don't lie.

I don't want to get any heavier than I already am. Why do people lie so much? Why do they like messing with people's emotions? I'm fully aware that I am fat, I know that I need to lose weight, but why do they lie to me? At least tell me the truth when they make fun of me. Even the counselor tells me to eat. Isn't she supposed to help me with my low self esteem, not bruise it? I've been to her more than once. Some kids told her about my "disorder" and that I needed some "medical attention." I left her office though. I spazed out on her and walked out the door, leaving in a daze. I got called back up there for pretty much screaming at her, it's apparently against "school rules" to get rude with school staff. Well they shouldn't be up in my fucking business and she wouldn't have been bitched out.

If I can't believe my own brother anymore. . .why would I believe anyone else. Brothers aren't supposed to make you feel worst about your image. . .yet, Gerard does every time he looks at me.