Control

As I looked in the mirror each day, I didn't see that same girl who used to throw on any clothing she had on and go out and conquer the world, that girl used to be positive in every situation at hand. That girl who was bullied for who she was, because she was different...she didn't fit to what the city life wanted from her...she wasn't seen as normal because she thought and acted differently. She didn't know what she could have possibly been doing in order for people to do such horrible things to her. Then she started to realize small things...how her legs wobbled when she walked, how her stomach bulged a little at the bottom, how when she put her arms against her sides they would look enormous. She would stand in the mirror stark naked in the mornings when she wakes up and just before she went to bed. Squeezing the fat she had on her body...turning to every angle to see the areas which made her so self conscious she decided to cut down on that extra packet of chips she consumed until it got to an entire meal. Until it got to a point where she refused to hold food down. Weight started falling tremendously and she finally felt happy, she could see her hips bones and when she breathed in even her ribs. She could wear that pair of tights she hid in the back of her cupboard. But was she really happy? Her breath shortened, her eyes sunken... the insomnia was getting to her. Why didn't the bullying stop?

She stood in front of the mirror poking at her thighs, legs, tummy and anywhere that felt soft...she wasn't perfect yet. She needed to fix that so in the mean time she hid under baggy clothes to make herself seem thin...but the bullying continued.

Why me...what did I ever do to them, I got home the one day crying my eyes out...there was one way to avoid the pain, that was by inflicting pain on herself. More jerseys, less food, more hiding of her arms and less showing of her emotions to others.

She was empty, she felt nothing.

Now as I stand infront of the mirror today I can see that same girl...I do not do the things I used to do, but I still cry myself to sleep just because I can see the bulge in my stomach or being able to squeeze my inner thighs...the word I am looking for is disgusted. I still stand in front of the mirror and examine my flaws, I still contemplate skipping meals. I feel myself slipping and I don't know how to keep my balance. I am drowning, hiding my emotions from the world so that I don't feel vulnerable.

I ask god for help everyday because I know him as my savior...he has helped me grow, stop the things I had been doing. But sometimes I get lost and I get scared because there is nothing I can do. I go to gym now which helps me because it allows me to control something, but then it becomes an obsession because if I miss a day I start to panic and that old girl starts to come back. I want to be muscular, but then I see the fat between my thighs and it's like my mind completely changes and I want to be skinny...I just want it gone.