I wanted time to speed up. Everything seemed like it was moving slower than a tortoise going for an afternoon stroll. I wanted everything to end. It seemed like those 4 years would drag on and would take up my whole life. I always thought that those 4 years would be filled with tears of stress and sadness. I really believed they were going to be the worst 4 years of my life.
But, now, I’m sitting in my last class of high school and all I’m asking for is five more minutes. Everything flashed by in the blink of an eye. I want to relive so many things. Those 4 years went by too fast and seemed like they were one of the smallest parts of my life. The years were filled with tears of stress and sadness, but they were also filled with happiness and love. So far they have been the best 4 years of my life; I made so many friends, had so many new experiences, and really learned who I was. I just want to live in it for five more minutes.
You called me beautiful underneath the blue midnight light. Your hands were around my waist, your face illuminated with your favorite color, my thoughts were with you and only with you.
I can feel your breath hitting my cheek as I remember it all. I feel your warmth surrounding me in the otherwise cold air, I feel your hair falling into my face, followed by your fingers, gently pushing it back into place.
It’s a heart-wrecking game you play with me, and you don’t even know it. With all my willpower I’m desperately trying not to fall for you more than I already have, trying not to lose myself in another illusion and another love. But this is different. You are different and my weak little heart can’t handle it. Because with seemingly every blink of your existence, I fall.
I want to let it happen. I want to fall and not stop until we both hit the ground. I want to see where we can go, what we can do. But I’ve been hurt before and I’m scared. Mainly, I think, because I don’t want you to ever feel that way. It’s taken me so long to recover, and, deep down, I know that we are so much more than anything I could have ever experienced. I can’t imagine what would happen to us if we let ourselves go the way I wish we could. I know it would be beautiful.
One more week. I could spend that week thinking about all I just said, dwelling on the sadness that flushes through my body whenever I think of the little time we have left. But I shouldn’t. I should use that time, use it wisely, use it happily. I should enjoy it, every second of it, because I don’t want to regret anything. I don’t want to look back on the time we have wasted, I want to remember all that we had, even if it wasn’t enough.
i saw a picture from where i used to live and i couldn’t help but think, don’t get me wrong i am so grateful to be where i am and to have met the people i have, but i can’t help but think what it would be like if my mom never got re-married.
what if i still lived half with my dad and half with my mom? if i never came here at all?
i’ve never thought about the house since we moved out, but now that i am, i miss it.
i miss the holes in the walls separating the living room and the hallway where the old buddha statue sat on the ground.
i miss the CD player in my sister’s room and i miss when she would make me dance in front of her cool high-school friends.
i miss when my siblings would get along and when my grandma would still cook for us during the holidays.
i miss the little cabinet in the hallway across from my dad’s room that held all my shitty clothes he would find for me.
i miss the trampoline and my brothers old drum set that was in the garage.
i miss when my dad would take me to blockbuster, when he would let me ride my sisters’ electric scooters, and when we would sneak into the elementary school down the street to play handball.
i even miss the pasta he would make every single night, the scratchy popcorn ceiling, and being forced to sit on the floor in the living room and watch avatar with my dad.
i miss my family, i miss my old neighbors.
i miss my family, my sisters, my brother, my dad, my grandma and her boyfriend (rest in paradise by the way, marvin). like i said, feeling a little extra-reminiscent tonight.
i miss being young. shit! one day soon, i’m going to miss being the age i am now.
I used to think it was all behind me. I truly thought that, but something recently has been telling me that maybe it’s not.
I’m no longer skinny. I’m no longer underweight. I don’t weigh eighty-something pounds anymore. My heart isn’t in critical condition like it was. I no longer refuse to eat. I no longer have an eating disorder. The physical parts are gone, but some of the mental parts have stayed. No, I no longer cry before every meal, have multiple panic attacks daily, or slit my wrists. I no longer do any of those things, but sometimes I feel like I’m trapped in the days that I did.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m so much better than I was. So, so, so much better than I was. I guess what I’m trying to say is: yes I’m better, but no, I’m not perfect.
I’ve been stressed studying for finals lately, so I decided that skipping lunch would give me more time to study. There’s nothing wrong with this; its normal to skip meals time to time. What made me know something was up came later. I wasn’t skipping meals to lose weight or get skinner, it was for another reason.When I would skip lunch, my stomach would begin to gnaw and churn after a while. I like the feeling because it tells me that nothing is in my stomach, that my stomach is empty… I like it because the feeling of hunger distracts me from the emptiness I feel almost every single day.
Certain things give me flashbacks of what I went through, almost like PTSD in a way. For example, when my father buys a certain brand of sliced turkey. One day, my father had gone to the store. I asked him to buy a specific type of turkey, the turkey with 50 calories per two ounces. When he came back, he had bought a type which had 52 calories. I began to cry, my frail and bony body collapsed and my mother lunged to the floor where I lay, just as scared as I was, and tried to get me up. I wouldn’t move. I just stayed there. I just stayed on the floor sobbing and mumbling the words “I don’t want to live anymore” over and over again. My mom held her thirteen-year-old and dying daughter in her hands. She picked me up carefully and carried me to my bed, where she laid with me and we cried in unison… all of this over turkey. Now, whenever I see this brand of turkey in the fridge, its like that day fills my mind, takes over me, and haunts me. It’s different though, I’m not the girl on the floor anymore. I am a ghost watching in the corner, unable to do anything as I watch my mom and I suffer. As much as I try to reach out to myself and say “i’s okay, it’s going to be okay,” I can’t. As much as I try to get the memory to stop looping in my mind, it continues to replay and replay with more and more detail every loop. Just like the turkey, there are many more symbols equated with awful memories from my eating disorder. Natural Cafe,the white tank top on the bottom of my dresser,Pressed Juicery, my birthday, King’s Hawaiian Rolls, string cheese, buzz-cuts, and safety pins are just some of the items tied with memories even worse than the one above. Memories that I try to keep locked away for a reason.
I like to pretend like it’s behind me, but deep down I know it’s not. I honestly don’t think it will ever be. I’m not saying that I am in danger in any way shape or form if going back to how I used to be. All I am saying is (in honor of mental health awareness month) it’s okay to not be 100% okay.