Alyson

I feel very stupid.

I was so sad last night. I think this is going to be a weekly thing: falling down and getting back up. I don’t know how long until I fall down and stay down.

I was sad because I hate being in this place where my vision becomes blurry. I don’t like acknowledging it, because I won’t be able to leave for another two years. When I can’t take it anymore, my mom asks me, “When did this start?”

I have always seen blurry here; it’s just that I recently realized, in leaving, that it is possible for me to see clearly.

I came to the late-night conclusion that if I was thinner, my problems would be less overwhelming. It’s twisted how I can feel so deeply like giving up during one of my existential crises, and then decide to pick on myself over something as superficial as my body.

The following morning, I stood at the kitchen table for two minutes wondering what to do, the effects of last night lingering like ashes after a fire. To eat, or to eat barely anything? I stood there wondering what was right. When I was sick some years ago, it was so obvious. But now, which choice will make me happy? Which one is the angel or the devil on my shoulder? So hard to see.

On the car ride to school, my stomach hurt so bad but I felt even more stupid. A stupid that I have never ever never felt before, even in my life of failed tests and mistakes and falls and jokes that were never laughed at. I knew I felt worse than if I had been a normal person and had eaten a normal, healthy breakfast.

The stomach pains went away during first period, but the cloud of personal shame didn’t budge. ♦