Apologies! Your web browser lacks required capabilities. Please consider upgrading it or switching to a more modern web browser.
Initializing. Please wait…
[[Introduction: What is "The skinny one."?|About]]
[[Begin]]
[[Disclaimers]]
<<set $weight to 96>><b>September</b>
You take up too much room.
You stare down at the scale, at the little numbers that are no bigger than your fingernail but make your heart pound and your skin feel like a layer of lead over your bones.
Every morning, you wake up and check the scale. You run your fingers over your prominent hipbones, up across your ribs, tracing your collarbones, caressing them like [[prayer beads.]]
That ugly number glares up at you from the scale. 96. You thought you had more self-control than this. Why did you eat that all of those pretzels? You have failed, and now [[everyone]] will be able to see it.
You feel the darkness gather inside your chest, weighing you down, making you feel like you might fall through the floor into the center of the earth.
Ugly. Fat. Worthless. Stupid. [[Unlovable.]]
1. [[Go into the kitchen and throw away the bag of pretzels. You won't deviate from your diet, not again. In fact, just because of that disgraceful lack of control, you won't allow yourself to have breakfast this morning.|control]]
2. [[Your roommate made a comment the other day about how little you ate at lunch. Even though it scrapes you raw, you need to eat breakfast this morning so she won't suspect anything.|roommate]]
<<if visited("Begin") is 1>><<set $selfesteem to 0>><<set $scholarship to 5>><<set $Derek to 0>><<set $Jess to 0>><<set $Adam to 0>><<set $happiness to 0>><<set $Somers to false>><<set $AdamFriend to false>><<set $puppy to false>><<set $AdamFriend2 to false>><<set $Derekbreakup2 to false>><<set $pizza to false>><</if>>All of the old ladies at church used to pinch your cheeks with their yellowy fingernails, cooing over you. Laughing at you. They said you had chipmunk cheeks. You can still smell mothballs, rancid funeral bouquets, and peppermint every time you touch your face.
Your mom would laugh along with them. And then when you went home, she would make sure you had a healthy snack while your brother and sister raided the refrigerator without needing to ask for permission. You noticed your portion of dinner was smaller than theirs.
Even then, your mother knew that there was [[something wrong with you.|Begin]]The bag of pretzels thuds to the bottom of the trash can, loud like a gunshot. Your heart immediately flutters with relief as you watch the bag sink to the bottom of the trash can.
"Hey, what's up, chicken butt?" Your roommate Jess strolls into the kitchen. Her pajama bottoms are a size too small, and a small roll of fat spills over the waistband. You quickly look away.
She reaches into the pantry and pulls out a box of pancake mix. You watch as she dumps it into a bowl. A small cloud of premix puffs up into the air, coating the sides of the bowl in small granules.
1. [["Nothing new! How have you been?"|adaptive5.1]]
2. [["Nothing. I need to get ready for class."|control5]]
You just started dating Derek. You met at a back-to-school party a few weeks ago. He kept lifting his cup too high and raining beer on unsuspecting bystanders--including you. That rain turned into a waterfall when his buddy accidentally bumped his arm. Derek couldn't stop apologizing, and he offered to take you on a date to make up for it. One thing led to another, and now you're an exclusive couple. You think.
In addition to scheduling dates with Derek, you have to make time for your two best friends, Jess, who is also your roommate, and Eliza.
Recently, you've started canceling on your friends more and more. You need to keep your GPA above a 3.5 for grad school and your classes are hard right now and it's overwhelming...or that's your excuse, anyway. You hate that food always has to be involved whenever you do something with your friends. French toast and bacon at brunch, greasy pizza on movie night, appetizers at happy hour. You're terrified of losing control--in front of your friends, in front of Derek.
Then they'll be able to [[see the pig you are, too.|Begin]]"Don't turn around and make me the fucking villain!"
"Do you even care about your children anymore?"
"I'm not arguing about this with you right now--"
"Don't you dare walk out on me again!"
"You don't give me any other choice!"
"Do you not love them anymore? Is that it? Are we so fucking unlovable that you can't even stay here anymore?"
Your parents don't know you are sitting on the staircase, listening to them. You have known this was coming for a long time. You sit in Jon's bedroom, curled up on the bed while he and Janet talk about the future with soft, intense voices. That it's only a matter of time. You don't want to believe it's true.
Tears dampen your cheeks as you crawl back up the stairs to [[your bedroom.|Begin]] One half of a cup of fat free yogurt (100 cal)
Coffee, black (0 cal)
Your head spins. 100, 100, 100. Too much, too much, too much. You don't like that the caloric content is three whole digits.
As you peel the lid off, your fingernail bends, nearly snapping in half. You flinch, dropping the spoon.
"Everything okay in there?" Your roommate, Jess, yawns as she wanders into the kitchen. Her pajama bottoms stretch a little tighter than they used to around her butt. She scratches at her unruly hair.
"Fine, just broke a nail." You pick up the spoon. Dunking it into the soupy pink yogurt, you force yourself to take a few swallows. It looks like slimy pink afterbirth. You feel it crawling down your throat, some ugly and disgusting thing that you shouldn't be allowing into your body.
"Opening a thing of yogurt? Girl, I think you need to [[hit the gym more|obsessivethought1]]." Jess laughs. She rummages through the refrigerator. She glances back at you, raising one immaculately maintained eyebrow. "Only yogurt again for breakfast? It's the most important meal of the day. I don't know how you can get through to lunch with only some pink goo in your stomach."
1. [[Eat half of the container of yogurt, just like you're supposed to.|control2]]
2. [[Eat the entire container of yogurt. Jess seems suspicious.|adaptive1]]Does she see it? Does she know? Why would she tell you to go to the gym more if you didn't look like absolute shit? It's all the gross cellulite on your ass, the flab on your arms, the little roll around your belly.
[[You're disgusting.|roommate]]You eat half of the container of yogurt. No more, no less. You put the container in a plastic bag and move past Jess to put it in the fridge.
She gives you an odd look. Yet she doesn't say anything.
"I'll text you later," you say to Jess as you walk back to your bedroom. You feel like your neighbors beneath you must hear you thudding around like an elephant. Still, you maintained your self-control. There won't be another pretzel incident.
1. [[Get ready for the day. You feel a small surge of confidence after maintaing such rigid self-control.|control3.5]]
2. [[Your stomach growls. Even though you are strong, your body is weak. There's still that bag of pretzels in the pantry...|temptation]]
<<if visited("control2") is 1>><<set $Jess to $Jess - 1>><</if>>You don't want Jess making comments. You force yourself to eat the whole container of yogurt, even though it fills like you're filling your stomach with concrete.
Jess eats a bowl of cereal and sits on the counter. You chat for a little while about her classes. She's nervous about an exam next week, and you reassure her that she'll do great.
"What's new in your world, babe?" Jess asks.
1. [[You smile and tell her about Derek and your classes. You try to ignore how gross you feel.|adaptive2]]
2. [[Does she suspect something? "Nothing," you reply. You sound a little defensive.|control3]]After chatting for a while, Jess realizes that it's getting late and she needs to start getting ready. You go back into your bedroom and stare at the bathroom door.
You wish you hadn't eat the entire carton of yogurt. It congeals on the bottom of your stomach like mold. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror as you open your closet to pick out an outfit.
God, when did you get so fat? So ugly? You pinch at your cheeks. You feel the yogurt coursing through your veins already, thick and fatty. Vile. You crumple to the floor.
1. [[Go into the bathroom. You hate feeling so heavy.|purge1]]
2. [[Force yourself to stand up. Just wear extra layers today so no one will notice how gross you are. How you couldn't control yourself.|adaptive3]]
<<if visited("adaptive2") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight + 1>><</if>>Jess shrugs. "Well, I have to start getting ready for class."
She walks out of the room. You throw the empty yogurt container away. It's like a dead animal carcass, sitting in the bottom of the garbage can.
You go back into your room. Even under your thick fleece sweater, you feel cold down to the bone.
1. [[Get ready for the day, and make sure you bundle up in extra layers.|adaptive3]]
2. [[Go into the bathroom. You hate feeling so heavy.|purge1]]
<<if visited("control3") is 1>><<set $Jess to $Jess - 1>><<set $weight to $weight + 1>><</if>>The cold scrapes at your bones like teeth, even through layers and layers of clothes. You shuffle down the sidewalk, trying not to bounce too high. You can feel the yogurt sloshing around in your stomach, and it feels like an ocean inside of you. You're bigger than an ocean.
You think of Jess' comment. Do you need to go to the gym more?
In class that day, you have to do group work. After you finish the assigned task, you sit and chat with the two girls you had to work with.
"I mean, I don't think I look like I wear a size 8, do I?" The one girl asks as she chews on a granola bar.
"I don't think so."
"How much do you think I weigh?" She persists.
"Uhm..." her friends stares at her. "You're so tiny. But you've got big boobs. I'm gonna guess...125?"
"Hah! I weigh 140. See, isn't that weird?"
140 pounds? How can she live with herself? Doesn't she go to the gym? Should you be going to the gym?
"Wait, wait, how much do you think I weigh?" The other girl asks.
"I'd say 120." Granolabar140pound girl says.
"Maybe 115?" you add. The other girl smiles.
"I weigh 135. Gained, like, fifteen pounds freshman year. I used to be a runner. Oh well. Freshman fifteen always comes true, eh?" 135pounds laughs.
"What do you think I weigh?" You ask.
"Oh god, if you weigh over 100 I'd be shocked." Granolabar140pound says.
"Same. I don't know how you do it. I love food too much."
You laugh along with both girls. Under the desk, you pinch at your thighs. $weight, $weight, $weight. [[Such an ugly number.|Day2.3]]
<<if visited("adaptive3") is 1>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem - 2>><<set $weight to $weight - 1>><</if>>You turn on the fan and run the shower, just in case Jess can hear you.
You've never forced yourself to vomit before. You hate puking. You remember having the flu as a child--hunched over the toilet, streams of bile running over your lips, the white toilet lid cool under your fingers, sweat clinging to your forehead.
How do you do this? You kneel down in front of the toilet. You have a sensitive gag reflex, so maybe it will be easy.
As you lean over the toilet, ready to stick your hand down your throat, your hair flops over into your face. You rock back onto your heels. Shit, you should probably tie your hair back. You go to your makeup drawer and pull out a hair tie. You look at yourself in the mirror as you scoop your hair back into a ponytail. The harsh angle of your cheekbones creates murky pools of shadow under your eyes.
Once your hair is secure, you go back to the toilet. The cold bathroom tiles dig into your knees. You think about what you've seen in movies, what you've read in books.
You open your mouth and stick your finger down your throat.
Your throat contracts around your hand. Nausea sweeps through your brain and knocks all other thoughts aside. You snatch your hand away as heat swells over your tongue and explodes past your teeth in sticky tendrils.
You clutch the toilet seat, fingernails digging into the porcelain. Tears ooze down your cheeks. You cough as a fiery pain streaks through your esophagus. Through watery eyes, you see bits of half-chewed food floating in the water.
You reach into your throat again.
Snot bursts from your nostrils as your body seizes. Your chest tightens, and you squeeze your eyes shut when the vomit starts to flow from your mouth.
Your face feels tight and hot. You're sweating, crying, your nose is leaking. But you still see chunks floating in the water, so your stomach must not be empty.
You force yourself to purge, over and over, until your vomit is a clear yellow.
After you're done, you go back to your room and [[get ready for the day.|purge1.5]]
<<if visited("purge1") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 3>><</if>>The brisk autumn sunlight scrubs at your skin and makes you feel warm. You walk fast, chasing the red and orange and yellow leaves that skirt over the pavement. You must be as light as those leaves, dancing alongside them.
You make it to class on time. The professor eats an apple as she lectures. She chomps the apple like a horse, gross and without any modicum of self-respect. Halfway through the lecture, a girl sitting next to you opens a granola bar. Your pen dashes over the page as you take notes. You are better than them. You don't succumb to those carnal needs.
As you stand up and gather your textbooks, the granolabargirl smiles at you, a flake of chocolate caught in her teeth.
You go to your next class. As you sit down, Erin gives you a once over.
"Hey, Claire, what's your secret? You've been looking really good lately," she says. You smile. This. This is why you do it.
Because it will make [[everyone love you.]]
[[Next|Day2]]
<<if visited("control3.5") is 1>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem + 2>><<set $weight to $weight - 4>><</if>>You wait until you hear Jess walk back to her room before you slink back into the kitchen. Her bathroom door is shut, and you hear the shower running.
Your skin crawls as you snatch the bag of pretzels and retreat to your bedroom. You sit down on the bed and glare at the bag of pretzels. Why is it tempting to you?
You're better than this.
1. [[Eat the pretzels.|eatpretzels]]
2. [[Put them back in the kitchen.|control4.5]]You let yourself munch on a few pretzels. It tastes like sawdust, and sits heavily on your tongue.
You're doing it so no one will suspect anything. But you can picture the numbers on the scale going up. You drop the pretzel bag like it burned your fingers. Your stomach is full of yogurt and pretzels, and it makes you hate yourself. All the dark, horrible things swim in your chest like deep sea monsters, lurking in the dark, waiting to drag you under and drown you.
[[Ugly.]] No self-control.
You feel heavy and gross as [[you prepare for the day.|adaptive3.5]]What the fuck is wrong with you?
You hear the voice screaming in your head.
Do you want the number on the scale to go up? Do you want everyone to hate you? Is that what you want? You're disgusting, a pig, with no self-control. With all of that fat running through your veins, no one will ever love you.
You grab the bag and throw it across the room. Pretzels spill on the carpet, dribbling crumbs of salt. You clutch the sides of your head. Worthless, worthless, worthless, that single word is in every beat of your heart.
And now you've made a mess. When will you learn? You're just--wrong.
With violently shaking hands, you pick up the pretzel bag and carry it back to the pantry.
[[You are stronger than your body. This proved it. The temptation was within reach, and you rejected it. Your heart flutters as you get ready for the day.|control3.5]]<b>October</b>
You sit in bed, textbook open in your lap. Light filters through your bedroom window, gliding over your arm, making the tiny hairs look like little spider legs wriggling over your skin. Your eyes tear over the page. Energy fizzles under your skin like a dozen sparklers going off in your blood. Your thoughts have wings, flying, higher and higher. You get dizzy from how fast your head spins. You have never been able to think this clearly.
You're $weight pounds.
Your phone buzzes on your bedside table. You twist your head and see that you have a text from Miranda, the woman who runs the animal shelter you like to volunteer at.
1. [[Answer the text.|adaptive18]]
2. [[Ignore it.|control16]]
<<if visited("Day2") is 1>><<set $ignore to true>><</if>>Forks scrape against porcelain plates in the silence. You cut a small piece of salmon and stick it in your mouth. Chew, chew, swallow. Another piece. Chew, chew, swallow. Your family sits around the table, eating. Refueling, like robots. You think your whole family has been replaced with robots wearing human skins, moving around the house like they're on tracks that happen to intersect every once in a while.
Chew, chew, swallow.
"How did you do on your science test, Janet?" Dad asks.
"I got 95%."
"That's my girl," dad smiles. He looks like a plastic Halloween mask. "How'd your math test go, Claire?"
"Uh, I got a B."
"Just got study a little more, eh?"
"O-oh, yeah. Yeah."
[[He doesn't lift his head from his food to smile at you.|control3.5]]A cold autumn breeze tears through your hair as you walk to class. Your backpack sits heavily on your pointy shoulder blades. Your upper lip feels a little clammy as you arrive to class.
The professor chomps on an apple through the entire lecture. You ignore the wet chewing sounds as your pen races through your notebook. You feel sharper, more aware, like you could count every eyelash on the professor's face.
You go to your next class. As you sit down, Erin gives you a once over.
"Hey, Claire, what's your secret? You've been looking really good lately," she says. You smile. This. This is why you do it.
Because it will make [[everyone love you.]]
[[Next|Day2.3]]
<<if visited("purge1.5") is 1>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem + 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 4>><</if>>Janet Reed was the beautiful one. The smart one. The talented one. What accomplishments could she list to her name? Graduated high school and college above a 3.5, honors society darling, prom queen junior year, sweet sorority girl, frequent volunteer at the local homeless shelter.
And she was a size 0. The fabled realm, the pinnacle of perfection.
Everyone loved your sister Janet. She had a job at a marketing firm in New York City. She was engaged to a handsome, kind man. Wherever she went, it's like the air was filled with glitter and rainbows and unicorns.
Janet was perfect.
She was a [[size 0.|eatpretzels]]You roll down the sidewalk like a slug. The trees look like fiery torches on either side of the sidewalk. You keep your head down, refusing to meet anyone's eyes as you walk to class.
You're a little late. The professor doesn't comment on it. You sit in your usual spot, and you're terrified the desk will collapse beneath you at any moment. Then everyone will know your shame, and they'll point and laugh and they'll never love you.
Your mind is clouded as the professor lectures. Her words bounce off your ears. By the end of the lecture, you realize you've only taken a half a page of notes. The girl sitting next to you has nearly two pages. You stare down at the words, and they squiggle and writhe on the page like maggots.
You go through the rest of your day like a zombie. Everyone seems to be avoiding you. You hate yourself.
[[Next|Day2.3]]
<<if visited("adaptive3.5") is 1>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem - 4>><<set $weight to $weight + 2>><</if>><b>October</b>
You think you are going to sink through your mattress and collapse into your downstairs neighbor's bedroom.
A few days have passed. That terrible number consumes your vision wherever you look: $weight pounds. $weight. The shadows swimming through you have grown darker, heavier, making you fat and ugly. Your lack of self-control makes you hate yourself.
1. [[Go on the websites where there are other men and women like you. You need their help.|websites]]
2. [[Work on your homework, even though it will turn out shitty anyway. You have to keep up your GPA.|adaptive8]]You and Jess chat for a while about school, boys, life. She gathers the ingredients to make her world famous pancakes.
"Oh, shit, don't let me forget that I need tampons next time I go to the store."
You jiggle your head like a bobblehead, and you can feel thoughts rattling around in your skull, loudly, echoing . You haven't had [[your period|your period.]] in a while, have you? You can't even remember...
Jess cracks eggs into the mixing bowl. Golden yellow yoke spills over the sandlike brown mounds. She adds a splash of milk, so white it makes your eyes burn. You watch her beat the ingredients together, and it makes your molars hurt.
The thick batter forms oval-shaped puddles in the griddle, rings of butter sizzling at the uneven edges.
"Sure you don't want a pancake?" She teases.
1. [["I guess I can have one."|concede]]
2. [["No, I already ate."|control6]]"Oh, okay," Jess smiles at you. "Well, I'm sure I'll see you again before you leave."
"Yeah...sure."
You turn and go back into your bedroom. You've always been close to [[Jess|Jess]]. But you haven't been as patient or open with her lately. You used to tell Jess everything, scraping the pits of your soul and offering it up to her because you knew she wouldn't judge you. You aren't sure why you've felt different lately--you just don't feel you can trust Jess with this particular bit of information. And it makes you...sad.
The small twinge of guilt passes as you settle into your desk and work on some homework. [['They']] always say that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. That seems like total bullshit. You haven't had a bite of food all morning, and you've never felt better. You feel clearer, sharper, like you're looking at the world through a lens of perfectly cut crystal.
You finish writing your history paper. As you skim back through it, you find few grammatical errors. Your argument seems airtight, too. The writing is strong. Your brain wasn't clouded by calories, so you wrote better
1. [[It's time to start getting ready for class.|control3.5]]
2. [[Go talk to Jess. Things were a little awkward and you need to smooth it out.|adaptive6]]
<<if visited("control5") is 1>><<set $Jess to $Jess - 1>><</if>>You met Jess your freshman year of college. She lived on the same floor as you in the traditional dorms, but you didn't meet her until spring semester. Jess had invited a few girls from your floor to her room to watch "Frozen." Your freshman year roommate was one of the girls who got invited, and you tagged along. As soon as you started talking, you formed a powerful connection. You don't even remember what you talked about, looking back. One minute, it was 7 pm, the popcorn bowl was full, and there were seven girls gathered on the bunk bed. And then suddenly, it was almost midnight and everyone was gone, except for you and Jess. It was like meeting your roomie soulmate.
Before you left, Jess asked you who you planned on living with next year. You said you hadn't decided yet, even though a couple people had talked to you about it.
By the following evening, you and Jess had decided to live together. And you'd been together ever since.
You used to tell her everything. Hours and hours of conversation that stretched late into the night. But lately, she just seemed too loud, and your skin was too thin. You didn't have much patience for her anymore. You felt like she was always watching you at meals, judging you, waiting for you to slip up and have a bingeing episode.
The darkness swirling inside of you whispered mean things about her. That she didn't actually care about you. That she gossiped about you behind your back. That she was only pretending to be your friend.
That couldn't be true. [[Could it?|control5]]'They' thought they knew what was best for you. They scraped you from head to toe with their cold, hard eyes, their judgmental gazes chipping away at you like ice picks.
"You need to eat more."
"You need more calories in your diet."
"You're too skinny."
What did the know about you? How could they possibly understand how ugly it was to live inside your skin? This was the only way to alleviate the pressure, to make it hurt a little less to just live through each day.
'They' didn't know you. 'They' didn't know what was best for you. Your body was yours, and [[no one else's.|control5]]The griddle sizzles as Jess pours a blob of pancake patter onto the greased pan. Little bubbles of butter wink on the edges of the pan.
"Hey, Jess," you sit down at the breakfast bar. You feel saliva pooling on your tongue. No. You are in control. You don't want the pancakes. "When's your chem test?"
"Next Thursday." She sighs. "I'm so nervous about it, and my head is all fuzzy from my PMS. It's fine, though. I'll survive."
You can't remember the last time you got [[your period.]]
"I heard you typing away in there. Working on your history paper?"
"Yeah, I think I'm in a good spot with it. But I'm sure Brett will find something wrong with it."
"I've heard bad things about that man." Jess says.
You chat a little bit longer about school, boys, life. She offers you a pancake, and you are proud when you refuse.
When Jess realizes she's running late, she scrambles to scrape the dishes and run hot water over her plate. She leaves, and you stare at the fat arteries of syrup coursing over the plate, thick and congealed like blood.
Your neck contracts as you swallow.
You force yourself to your feet and [[go back to your bedroom to get ready.|adaptive7]]
<<if visited("adaptive6") is 1>><<set $Jess to $Jess + 2>><<set $weight to $weight + 1>><</if>>Your period stopped coming a while ago. No Red Devil knocking at your door from month to month. It was a relief, in some ways. You remember hitting puberty, a little earlier than the other girls. You suddenly had a butt and you needed to wear a training bra and your thighs jiggled. The boys used to fold paper footballs and throw them down your shirt in English class. It made you hate yourself. You were so big, you took up too much room. You didn't have the neatly defined lines of small bones. You spilled outward, everywhere. Hips, thighs, breasts, butt.
The boys paid the wrong kind of attention to you. A few of them grabbed at you in the hallways sometimes, and they would shout things at you. You never told your mom or dad, but you think looking back that you should have.
It was the first time you began to suspect that your body did not belong to you.
And it all began with those red dribbles in your underwear.
You were glad that your period stopped. At first, it terrified you, because you'd had a boyfriend at the time--your first boyfriend, the guy that took your virginity--and you thought it meant everything in your world was about to crumble around you.
When the pregnancy tests came back negative, you cried. You wished could [[cut out your uterus.|adaptive6]]The fiery-bright leaves of the trees smudge your periperhals like an inferno as you walk to class. You kick at the leaves that dance around your feet. You think you must be lighter than them now. You could dance over the pavement, just as swift and graceful. You pick your feet up a little higher, raise your chin so you can smile at the people that walk past you.
They smile back. Warmth spreads through your chest, makes your heart swell with pride. The world is made of smiling mouths and bright white teeth. You like that very much.
When you get to class, your phone vibrates. A text from Derek. Your pulse thrums a little faster at your wrist. You don't know how you got [[so lucky]] with someone like Derek.
You text him back, solidfying your dinner plans. Your mood seems to soar, and you fill pages and pages of your notebook during lecture that morning.
In your next class, a girl you sometimes study with, Erin, says you look like you've lost weight.
"You look good," she smiles, showing the gap in her front teeth.
You smile back. All these smiles.
It reminds you why you do this in the first place.
[[Next|Day2]]
<<if visited("adaptive7") is 1>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem + 2>><<set $weight to $weight - 3>><</if>>You're so lucky to have Derek in your life.
Even though he made comments about your weight when you first started dating. Even though he made you go to the gym sometimes because he said you were "getting soft."
Even though you went to surprise him at his apartment one time and you heard a female voice inside.
[[You're so lucky.|adaptive7]]Jess slides a plate towards you. It scrapes over the counter and sounds like someone sharpening a knife. Something thick and hot swells in your chest, a tumor pressing down on your lungs and making it difficult to breathe. You stare down at the pancake, fluffy and gold. It disgusts you.
You want it.
It disgusts you.
Your limbs move like they're attached to marionette strings. You watch your fingers tighten around the fork. You watch the fork cut through the pancake. You are no longer in control of your body. You have been possessed.
As soon as the flavor of the pancake sparks on your tongue like a firework, you know you've made a mistake.
It tastes good.
No, it tastes like mud.
It's the best thing you've ever tasted.
It's vile and makes you want to vomit.
Suddenly, you've eaten half the pancake. Your wide eyes scan Jess' face. Did she see you lose control? No, she's chattering away between bites.
"I'm full." You shove the plate away. "I need to get ready for class anyway.
"Okay, more for me," Jess stabs her fork into your pancake and lifts it onto her plate. You resist the urge to slap her hand.
Instead, with measured footsteps, [[you retreat to your bedroom.|adaptive3.5]]
<<if visited("concede") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight + 1>><</if>>"Okay, suit yourself." She laughs. The sound fills the kitchen. It makes you wince. "You're missing out."
She sits down next to you at the breakfast bar. Overturning the bottle of syrup, she drowns the stack of bronzed pancakes in thick rivers of syrup. It spills down the pale edges in mini waterfalls. You hastily look away, like you have caught a glimpse of something you weren't supposed to see.
"I think I need to start getting ready for class." You say.
"Okay." She shovels a thick bite of pancake into her mouth. Strings of syrup dangle over her lips. You make sure you take measured steps to your bedroom. You don't want her to see you running away. More importantly, you don't want to make too much sound as you walk. Swift, silent, economical in your movements. That's what you pride yourself on.
The sound of Jess' fork scraping over the plate chases you into your bedroom.
You wrap yourself in thick sweatshirts [[before rushing out the door.|adaptive7]]
<<if visited("control6") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 5>><</if>>laura167: my ex told me that fat girls don't deserve happiness. He was right. These tips are really good, I'm almost at my goal!
cc_star: If you don't have an ed then shut up and get off the site. If you think being fat is fine then y do you come on here to criticize others for what they want to be or do? Go mind your own life. I'm an ana and I'm proud of it just like some people are proud to be fat. Leave us alone
anagirl4life: I'm going to be skinny one day :) I will do whatever it takes. And soon ill be getting there
50shadesofskinny: I wish all the luck to you :) I as well am trying and doing my best to accomplish my goals. Hopefully everything works out in a possative aspect <3 <3
VeraT: Hi ladies! i hope everyone is having a great day i just wanted to remind everyone that you're beautiful <3 Best of luck, ladies and gents. Muah!!!!!
You scroll through the comment section. Fizzly happiness like champagne bubbles pops through your veins as you read through the supportive comments. These men and women understand you. You can practically see their hands reaching through the computer screen, lifting you up. In this little shadowy corner of the Internet, you are a little less alone.
You post a question on the discussion board: Hi, I am having problems maintaining my weight. What's a quick and easy way to lose the pounds??? Thanks, everyone!! <3
Eat less, weigh less, fail less, feel less.
While you wait for a reply, you continue to scroll. You see a lot of people recommending purging. You've never done that before.
$weight pounds.
[[1. You decide to wait until you see how people reply to your post. Purging seems gross to you.|adaptive9]]
[[2. You shouldn't be on these websites. It only makes it worse.|cellcall]]You need a shower to clear the cobwebs from your skull. As you strip away layers and layers of thick sweaters, you stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror.
You pinch the little paunch craddled between your hipbones. A layer of fat thickens your thighs. Is that the beginning of a double chin? You lay one hand over your collarbones. Your heartbeat flutters against your palm, tentative like the wings of a butterfly.
You step into the shower. You turn the water temperature up, until it's supposed to be scalding. But you still feel cold.
[[Next|adaptive14]][[No one]] replies to your comment right away. Your shoulders slump a little bit. You decide to take a shower while you wait. As you strip away layers and layers of thick sweaters, you stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror.
You pinch the little paunch craddled between your hipbones. A layer of fat thickens your thighs. Is that the beginning of a double chin? You lay one hand over your collarbones. Your heartbeat flutters against your palm, tentative like the wings of a butterfly.
You step into the shower. You turn the water temperature up, until it's supposed to be scalding. But you still feel cold.
1. [[Check the website again.|website2]]
2. [[Give up on the website for now. You should probably work on homework and try to get to class.|adaptive10]]No one loves you. No one cares about you.
You're so ugly. How could [[anyone ever love you?|adaptive9]]A few people replied to your comment:
try including some fasting days into your diet! I personally can go on with my life with about 300 calories per day plus a fasting day once a week. but it all depends on how active you are, your body size and type, lots of stuff- just play around with your intake and listen to what your body is telling you!! it might take some time but you'll see the number on the scale go down :)
Go to healthyweightforum.org/eng/calculators/calories-required/
You can put in the weight you are, your height, what you want to get to, and when you wanna get there and it will give you the calories that you need to limit to each week until you reach your goal! It even shows you where about your weight should be at the end of each week (perfect if you're a weekly weigher, bad if you're a daily weigher like me... It's NEVER enough, if you ask me... -_-)
You [[like their suggestions.]] You type out a quick thank you.
[[Next|control7]]
<<if visited("website2") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 2>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem + 1>><</if>>You're stupid. You're an idiot.
You struggle through your homework. All you can think about is that number. 112. Your hand moves sluggishly over the page, but you don't recognize what you're writing. Your body does not feel like [[your own.|10]]
Someone texts you. You glance at your phone and realize that you have class soon.
When you arrive to class, some little freshman girl has taken your usual spot. Jackass. You have to sit next to a guy wearing a baseball cap. He's leaning back in the desk, his long legs stuck out in front of him. The rows of desks are narrowly spaced out, and you have to space carefully over his feet and his enormous backpack to get to your spot.
The professor makes the class partner up for an activity. The only person you really know or like in the class is sitting on the other side of the room. The guy in the baseball cap ends up being your partner.
"Um, so, I didn't really get to look too closely at the article we were assigned..." you say. You actually hadn't read the article at all. Or if you did, you didn't remember it.
"It's a dumb article. Don't waste your time. She never puts the supplemental readings on the exams anyway, so why bother?" His baseball cap is pulled low over his face. He has a surprisingly deep voice.
"Ah...okay."
His knee bounces up and down. You feel like you should say something, because the professor gave you ten minutes to discuss the article and everyone else around you is still talking.
"How's your paper for Mendez's class going?" You ask. He's in your bio class with you.
"It's going. Mendez is a pretty easy grader from what I've heard, so I'm not worried." He glances at you. It's the first time he's looked at you since you've been partnered up. "Nice sweatshirt. X-Files fan?"
"Yeah, I'm a big fan," you smile, genuinely smile. Your sweatshirt reads 'The truth is out there.' Most people don't recognize the quote.
You and the guy--his name is Adam, you think--chat about TV shows. He likes a lot of the same shows that you do. He gets really fired up when you talk about Stranger Things. But you also discover before the end of class that you both volunteer at the same puppy mill rescue. He just started working there, so you haven't gotten to work with him yet. But he seems pretty invested in it.
You leave class smiling that day.
[[Next|adaptive11]]
<<if visited("adaptive10") is 1>><<set $AdamFriend to true>><</if>>A guy named Adam messaged you on Facebook. You're in a class together.
Adam: Hey, we are in BIO311 together. [[Would you mind]] looking at my paper for Mendez?
Claire: Sure! Could you take a glance at mine too?
Adam: Yeah, that's fine
He sends you a file attachment. As soon as you open his paper and start skimming through it, you become self-conscious. Your paper isn't nearly as thorough or well-written. You drum your fingers on your laptop as you pick through his paper for flaws, like a little kid poking at food they don't want to try.
Claire: Can I send it to you tomorrow? I just need to fix a few things.
Adam: Yeah
You close his paper and reopen your own. With your faith in yourself renewed by the website, you take a deep breath and open your bio paper.
At first, the words come slowly. But fire begins to light your fingers as you type away, skipping dinner, forging your paper deep into the night.
You skip breakfast the next morning. That makes you go even higher, go to places you don't think you've ever accessed in your brain.
With a triumphant sigh, you send the paper to Adam around 8 am.
God, that felt good.
[[Next|Day3]]
<<if visited("control7") is 1>><<set $scholarship to $scholarship + 1>><<set $Adam to $Adam + 1>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem + 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 5>><<set $AdamFriend to false>><</if>>When you go to lunch that day, Eliza talks loud and fast. [[She]] has a date this weekend. She got an A on her chem exam. She thinks she's going to get the exec position in Habitat for Humanity.
You nod. You laugh. You smile. ALl when you're supposed to, a perfect performance. You try not to stare at the flab around her arms, or the pasta sauce smeared at the corners of her mouth.
"Hey, you need to have a few more bites of your food, missy." Eliza points to your mostly full plate with her fork.
1. [[Take an extra bite, just to get her off your back.|adaptive12]]
2. [["Oh, I'm not very hungry right now," you say. You've hit your calorie max for lunch. You can't eat anymore.|control9]]Everyone always thinks they can tell you what to do, how to eat. They say they're trying to help you, but they're just judging you. What gives them the authority to decide you haven't eaten enough?
Still, you force yourself to swallow another mouthful of spaghetti. The noodles crawl down your throat, and sauce coats your tongue in a rancid aftertaste. Eliza smiles, looking pleased with herself.
She continues to babble through the rest of lunch. You strategically move things around on your plate. Take a bite and spit it out daintily into your napkin while she isn't paying attention.
1. [[You are going to check the website to see if they left any good suggestions when you get a chance.|website2]]
2. [[You fake your way through the rest of your lunch with Eliza.|adaptive13]]
"Oh, well," Eliza nibbles on her lower lip, chewing away her pink lipgloss. "It just seems like, you know, you don't eat much at lunch anymore. Is everything okay?"
"Yes."
"I mean, yeah, Claire, you still look amazing, I'm not trying to say you don't--"
"It's fine. I get it."
She was jealous.
"I need to go to the library. I have to study."
1. [[Leave.|control11]]
2. Don't shut Eliza out again. Tell her what's wrong. Tell her.112. 112. 112.
You might as well tattoo the number to your forehead. You're already getting enough stares from your peers.
You shouldn't have taken that extra bite of lunch. Eliza had pressured you. Why did you give in?
This body feels heavier and heavier by the day. Your body weighs you down, prevents you from being the best you can be--lovable, popular, successful, intelligent. By now, you're probably up to 115 pounds, 120, 130, 150.
The girl sitting next to you in the library has her headphones in, although you can still pick up the faint beat of her music. She's watching a music video on YouTube. When she clicks to a new video, an ad for a popular clothing store splashes across the screen in a wash of pastel pink. A young female model poses in the newest fall line, dancing around in front of the Millenial pink background. At one point, she appears on the screen in a crop top, showing off a flat stomach and narrowly curved waist. If she turned and stood in profile, she'd barely be the width of your palm.
She's probably a size 0.
You hastily turn away and look back into your textbook. You can't stop yourself from rubbing the ugly bubble of fat on your hip. You feel it growing and pulsating under your skin, some sick yellow protrusion clinging to your hipbone like a parasite.
$weight, $weight, $weight.
You are a size 2. You keep picturing that model's tiny waist.
[[Next|Day3]]
<<if visited("adaptive13") is 1>><<set $scholarship to $scholarship + 1>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem - 1>><<set $happiness to $happiness - 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 4>><</if>>You won't let anyone manipulate you again. This is the happiest you have ever been. The world is reaching towards you as the numbers on the scale go down, presenting you all sorts of opportunities you never could've dreamed of.
People like Eliza, Jess, your parents, they just want to hold your wings closed. Yet you want to fly, fly high, fly fast. Get away from all of them and be who you truly are.
You don't have dinner that night.
It makes you happy.
[[Next|Day3]]
<<if visited("control11") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 4>><<set $Derek to $Derek - 1>><<set $Jess to $Jess - 1>><<set $Adam to $Adam - 1>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem + 1>><<set $happiness to $happiness + 1>><</if>><b>November</b>
<<if $weight <= 82>>You didn't know it was possible to soar so high.
$weight pounds.
You have incorporated multiple fasting days into your week. You are almost addicted to them. When you don't eat, you ascend into an almost crystalline zone of clarity and intellect. The entire world snaps into perfect focus. You buzz through your homework, stay up the entire night studying, wring every drop of each day you get.
Some would judge you. But when the pinwheels start sparking through your brain, lighting up every neural pathway like a supernova, you realize that they're just jealous of you. <<if $Derek <= -5>>Derek was jealous of you. He always hated that you were smarter than him. So he [[broke up]] with you. Who cares? Jess and Eliza never liked him anyway, and you weren't sure what you had seen in him either.<</if>>
You have come off of a fasting day, and it is breakfast time. You normally don't place them back to back. But you have a paper to finish. If you would eat now, the food would taint your insides, make you heavy and fat again.
1. [[At least have half of an apple. You can't completely live without food, as much as you want to.|control31]]
2. [[If you eat anything, the spark in your brain will sputter out. And you need to fan that spark if you want to produce a high quality paper.|extreme21]]
<<else>>You wish you could shuck your skin off like an orange peel. $weight pounds. Ugly. Hideous. A monster. You stare at your shadow whenever it stretches in front of you on the floor, and you see every lump and bump of your body. Your shadow is so huge, and your footsteps seem so thunderous in your bones.
You want to claw at your skin, cut the fat away with a knife.
So you introduce a number of fasting days into your week. You just want to get rid of the fat as quickly as possible. Your brain isn't functioning as well as it did when you were thinner. Maybe, if that number goes down, your life will get better again.
The words on the pages of your chem textbook slide into each other, forming a mass of incomprehensible squiggles. You glance at the clock. It's only noon. How is it not nighttime yet? You feel like you've been doing this for hours and hours, and nothing has stuck so far.
Today isn't meant to be a fasting day. You had planned on consuming 200 calories today. You never ate breakfast, because the mere thought made your stomach churn. You should stick with your diet.
Or maybe you shouldn't.
1. [[At least have half of an apple. You can't completely live without food, as much as you want to.|control31]]
2. [[If you eat anything, you'll just feel heavier and even more sluggish. You need to focus on your paper. Maybe you can have something slightly bigger for dinner tonight.|extreme21]]<</if>>You and Adam have never really talked much before. Half the time, he has his baseball hat pulled too low over his eyes for anyone to even tell if he's alive or not. He could die in the middle of lecture someday and no one would notice.
He seems like an okay guy, but you're kind of surprised he's reaching out to you. You click on his Facebook profile. You're friends, probably ran across each other on social media during freshman year. He's the same age as you.
You find yourself browsing through his profile pictures. You like his smile.
Much to your surprise, there's a picture of Adam and Derek from freshman year of college. They're at a party, screaming into the camera, lifting red solo cups high into the air. Foam sloshes over unsuspecting bystanders.
In fact, there's a lot of pictures of Adam at various parties throughout his first two years of college. They stop pretty abruptly by March of what would've been your sophomore year. A lot of the people he hung out with suddenly vanish from his pictures.
You feel like a creep. [[You hastily go back to the Facebook message.|control7]]When you scroll through the comments, you come across a thread of fierce arguments. It's a firestorm in the midst of an otherwise calm, supportive environment.
Anonymous: you people should be ashamed of yourselves, there are people in this world with real problems, people who don't just think of themselves, people who are starving because they have no food and they have to watch the people the love dying of starvation, how would you feel if you saw your mum/sister/best friend actually dying from not eating, this is how you are making your loved ones feel, this is the most selfish thing i've ever read, you have your lives, do something useful with them, there are people born without the choices you have, people without the mental capacity to ever be able to make any decisions who will never walk, never talk, you should stop concentrating on yourselves and do something for someone else less fortunate than yourselves
iso-bell: This was the most fucked up thing I've ever read. Clearly you do not understand what its like to have an ED... so why are you even on this site? Do you think I wouldnt love to eat a nice hamburger and fries from mcdonalds, or even to force down a salad. But I can't. ED are MENTAL ILLNESSES!!!!! not a choice. So before you go making assumptions, make sure you know what someone is actually going through.
arianna: Were not all proud to be anorexic, you know. Some of us have tried to stop... to "just eat," as some may word it. It's NEVER THAT EASY. The thought of eating is so truly terrifying. Telling an anorexic to eat, is like telling someone depressed to be happy, like telling a cutter to just stop cutting. I, for one, am an anorexic, and although I may have my proud moments, this really is a disease. If you are going to try and judge us for our mindset or our weight-loss methods, please do so elsewhere.
Your stomach tightens like a fist. You glare at the screen, anonymous' razor-edged rant ripping into your brain. You want to type a reply.
It's not that simple.
Just eat, you ungrateful bitch. Don't you know there's people in third world African countries who need food? You're a middle class white girl, what do you have to be upset about? Suck it up, here's a sandwich.
It's not that simple. You don't understand why anyone would speak to another person that way. They have no clue--no clue--what you go through everyday. They haven't felt the darkness leaping through your chest like a monster trying to explode out of you.
No one understood. They shouted at you, and tried to tell you how to feel about yourself, and attempted to assert their will on your body. And then they had the gall to tell you it was for your own good. They were trying to help you, but they looked down on you. Oh, poor little white girl living in her nice neighborhood going to college on her parents' dime. There are more important problems in the world than you, and it's a burden to deal with your petty little "phase."
You pry your fingers off the keyboard and [[click out of the comment thread.|website2]]You're stupid. You're an idiot.
You struggle through your homework. All you can think about is that number. $weight. Your hand moves sluggishly over the page, but you don't recognize what you're writing. Your body does not feel like [[your own.|14]]
Someone texts you. You glance at your phone and realize that you have class soon. You don't bother looking at the text.
When you reach campus, you realize you forgot your phone and one of your textbooks, along with your notebook. Tears burn at the backs of your eyes. You scrub at your face and stare up at the blue, blue sky. Your sister Janet wouldn't forget her books.
You force yourself to take a deep breath and keep walking. When you're almost to class, you get a text from Miranda, the woman who runs the animal shelter you work at.
Miranda: Hey, we have an emergency. Can you come and let the dogs out while I drive to the vet?
1. [[You text her back. You can go and see the dogs after class.|adaptive19]]
2. [[You need to study and work on homework. You can't spare time for the shelter right now.|class1]]Miranda: Hey! Would you mind working for a few hours this morning? Our new volunteer didn't show up.
1. [[Sure! I'll be there soon.|adaptive19]]
2. [[I'm sorry, I can't, I have too much homework to work on.|control16]]
<<if visited("adaptive18") is 1>><<set $ignore to false>><</if>>
You have two hours until your next class, so you hurry over to [[Bichon & Friends]] to help Miranda.
"I have to run to the vet. Annabelle has another eye infection." Miranda is on her way out the door when you get there. "And the new volunteer didn't show up. Again. Could you just walk some of the dogs and change all the newspapers out of the kennels?"
"Sure. I have class at noon, just so you know."
"Ah, shit. Hopefully I'll be back by then, but I'll call Alex and see if she can stop in to help you. Make sure you lock the door before you leave, if I'm not back." Miranda scrapes her hair off of her face. She reaches out and pats you on the shoulder. "Thanks for always being so reliable, Claire."
"No problem!"
Miranda leaves and you get to work.
A chorus of barks rise up to greet you as you walk back into the shelter. All of the kennels in each of the neat, clean rows are filled. Miranda and her partner, Jaime, had just gone to an auction a few days ago. The new arrivals huddle in the back of their kennels. You try to cajole them out of hiding, but they refuse to come near you. As much as it rips your heart out, you can't risk traumatizing them more by forcing them onto a walk. You move onto the other, [[more sociable dogs]] who clamor for your attention.
You crouch in front of Somers' cage. She's an energetic thing, a small terrier mix with tiny paws and huge brown eyes. Her ears quiver as you reach between the bars and scratch her head. Somers is one of your favorites, but she has been at the shelter for almost a year already. She is placed towards the front, where people first walk in to peruse the dogs up for adoption. You remember vividly seeing a family--a normal, suburban as all hell family--walk in and go right past Somers, even though she was practically crying for their attention. They adopted one of the newer puppies from a mill litter, a tiny, fluffy, white thing that was picturesque adorable but had the personality of cardboard and was scared of her new owners' shadows.
You open the kennel door and step inside to hook her up to a leash. You grab another dog, Boston, who likes to jump into your arms when he's done with walks, and take them outside. The shelter is located on a highway, which is never fun for new arrivals who can barely tolerate the feeling of pavement under their bruised paws, much less the assault of street noise.
The dogs tangle their leashes before long, and you laugh as they tumble through the dying grass like puppies.
[[You should talk to your mom about adopting Somers again.|Somers]]
<<if visited("adaptive19") is 1>><<set $scholarship to $scholarship - 2>><<set $happiness to $happiness + 2>><</if>>You have volunteered at Bichon & Friends, a local puppy mill rescue shelter, since your freshman year of college. To fulfill your high school volunteering requirements, you had worked at a puppy mill rescue shelter near your house. At first, you hadn't thought much of the obligation--just rolled your eyes at another stupid attempt by your principal to enforce the community ideals your high school was supposedly founded upon.
And then after your first shift at the shelter, you left crying. You far and exceeded your high school volunteering requirement, because you couldn't stay away. Any spare moment you had after school or on weekends--when you weren't working on homework--was dedicated to the shelter.
Although you couldn't volunteer as much anymore, now that you were in college, you still dedicated at least two weekends a month to Bichon & Friends, with the occasional weekday thrown in.
<<if $ignore is true>>You had fulfilled your quota for the month and weren't sure why Miranda was texting you. Probably just wanted you to come in because another volunteer had flaked--as so often happened at animal shelters.
You would text Miranda back later, tell her you were just too busy with homework right now. You had no issue fulfilling your two weekend a month quota, but asking for anything more than that put your education at risk and you couldn't allow that.
So you ignored her text and worked on homework until it was time to go to class.
<<else>>With your class schedule, you just can't commit as much time to the shelter as you used to. You look down at your textbook and know that you made the right choice. You have a quiz to study for.
You work on homework until it is time to go to class.<</if>>
[[Next|control17]]
<<if visited("control16") is 1>><<set $scholarship to $scholarship + 2>><<set $weight to $weight - 2>><</if>>You get to class early. While the professor shuffles through her papers at the front of the room, the rest of the class files in. There's a lot of yawning and tightly clutched cups of coffee.
Some little freshie messes up the unspoken seating chart. She takes a spot usually occupied by Adam, a guy you've known in passing since you were a freshman. You haven't really talked much. He walks into the classroom, running a little late. His baseball cap is pulled low over his eyes. You can't see his face very well to see his reaction.
He hesitates--and then takes the spot next to you. Well now the whole seating chart is messed up, because that's where your friend Holly sits.
Holly doesn't come to class that day.
During class, the professor makes everyone pair up for an in-class assignment. You end up working with Adam.
"Here, let me get out my notes about the article," you open your notebook and flip to a page of neatly written notes. "So I thought this article was interesting because..."
The words buzz from your mouth like bees, filling the air, making the area around your face vibrate. Adam just watches you from under the brim of his hat.
"Are you on Adderall or something?" He asks.
"What? No! I'm just having a good day!"
"Well, I don't have the same opinion as you. I thought the article was dumb."
"What?"
You and Adam argue. It gets the attention of some of your peers. But your brain spins like a tilt-a-whirl, and you can't stop the words from spewing out of your mouth.
After class ends, Adam gets up and leaves. You glare after him.
[[Next|control22]]
<<if visited("control17") is 1>><<set $scholarship to $scholarship + 2>><<set $Adam to $Adam - 2>><<set $happiness to $happiness - 1>><</if>>You text Miranda back. You tell her you just can't spare the time right now.
Miranda: I understand. Take care of yourself, kid. See you in a few weeks.
For some reason, you feel guilty. But school is your priority, and Miranda has to understand that.
When you arrive to class, some little freshman girl has taken your usual spot. Jackass. You have to sit next to a guy wearing a baseball cap. He's leaning back in the desk, his long legs stuck out in front of him. The rows of desks are narrowly spaced out, and you have to space carefully over his feet and his enormous backpack to get to your spot.
The professor makes the class partner up for an activity. The only person you really know or like in the class is sitting on the other side of the room. The guy in the baseball cap ends up being your partner.
"Um, so, I didn't really get to look too closely at the article we were assigned..." you say. You actually hadn't read the article at all. Or if you did, you didn't remember it.
"It's a dumb article. Don't waste your time. She never puts the supplemental readings on the exams anyway, so why bother?" His baseball cap is pulled low over his face. He has a surprisingly deep voice.
"Ah...okay."
His knee bounces up and down. You feel like you should say something, because the professor gave you ten minutes to discuss the article and everyone else around you is still talking.
"How's your paper for Mendez's class going?" You ask. He's in your bio class with you.
"It's going. Mendez is a pretty easy grader from what I've heard, so I'm not worried." He glances at you. It's the first time he's looked at you since you've been partnered up. "Nice sweatshirt. X-Files fan?"
"Yeah, I'm a big fan," you smile, genuinely smile. Your sweatshirt reads 'The truth is out there.' Most people don't recognize the quote.
You and the guy--his name is Adam, you think--chat about TV shows. He likes a lot of the same shows that you do. He gets really fired up when you talk about Stranger Things. But you also discover before the end of class that you both volunteer at the same puppy mill rescue. He just started working there, so you haven't gotten to work with him yet. But he seems pretty invested in it.
You leave class smiling that day.
[[Next|adaptive11.1]]
<<if visited("class1") is 1>><<set $Adam to $Adam + 2>><<set $happiness to $happiness + 1>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem + 1>><<set $scholarship to $scholarship - 1>><<set $AdamFriend to true>><</if>>When you go to lunch that day, [[Eliza]] talks loud and fast. She has a date this weekend. She got an A on her chem exam. She thinks she's going to get the exec position in Habitat for Humanity.
You nod. You laugh. You smile. <<if $puppy is true>>For once, it feels genuine. Not like you're performing in front of a crowd. You enjoy your lunch with Eliza, more than you thought you would. Still, you move the food around on your plate, hoping she doesn't notice.
<<elseif $puppy is false>>All when you're supposed to, [[a perfect performance.]] You try not to think about the flab around your arms, or fat building on your ribs, sticking like deadly mold.<</if>>
"Hey, you need to have a few more bites of your food, missy." Eliza points to your mostly full plate with her fork.
1. [[Take an extra bite, just so she doesn't get suspicious.|adaptive12.2]]
2. [["Oh, I'm not very hungry right now," you say. You've hit your calorie max for lunch. You can't eat anymore.|control9.2]]<<if $puppy is true>><<set $weight to $weight + 1>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem + 1>>You force yourself to swallow a few mouthfuls of spaghetti. The noodles crawl down your throat, and sauce coats your tongue in a rancid aftertaste. Eliza smiles. You tentatively smile back.
"Anyway, as I was saying..."
Your lunch runs longer than usual. You haven't connected this well with Eliza in ages. When you laugh, it's loud and real. Still, you're a little frightened. You feel like a ghost that has become too solid, and you aren't sure if you can trust this renewed sense of happiness.
"Hey, do you want to help me study for my exam in the library?" She asks.
1. [["Of course!" You say.|library2]]
2. [["I really need to get back to my apartment and study for my quiz." You reply, regretful that you have that stupid quiz to study for.|library4]]
<<else>><<set $weight to $weight - 1>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem + 1>>Everyone always thinks they can tell you what to do, how to eat. They say they're trying to help you, but they're just judging you. What gives them the authority to decide you haven't eaten enough?
Still, you force yourself to swallow another mouthful of spaghetti. The noodles crawl down your throat, and sauce coats your tongue in a rancid aftertaste. Eliza smiles, looking pleased with herself.
She continues to babble through the rest of lunch. You strategically move things around on your plate. [[Take a bite and spit it out daintily into your napkin while she isn't paying attention.]]
"Hey, do you want to help me study for my exam in the library?" She asks.
1. [["Of course!" You say.|library2]]
2. [["I'm kind of busy," you lie.|library4]]<</if>>"Oh, well," Eliza nibbles on her lower lip, chewing away her pink lipgloss. "It just seems like, you know, you don't eat much at lunch anymore. Is everything okay?"
"Yes."
"I mean, yeah, Claire, you still look amazing, I'm not trying to say you don't--"
"It's fine. I get it."
She was jealous.
"I need to go to the library. I have to study."
1. [[Leave.|control11.2]]
2. Don't shut Eliza out again. Tell her what's wrong. Tell her.
<<if visited("control9.2") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 1>><</if>>You won't let anyone manipulate you again. This is the happiest you have ever been. The world is reaching towards you as the numbers on the scale go down, presenting you all sorts of opportunities you never could've dreamed of.
People like Eliza, Jess, your parents, they just want to hold your wings closed. Yet you want to fly, fly high, fly fast. Get away from all of them and be who you truly are.
You don't have dinner that night.
It makes you happy.
[[Next|Day3]]You met Eliza freshman year. It wasn't love at first sight. In fact, you ran into each a number of times without ever saying more than two words to each other.
Slowly, however, like falling asleep, you got to know each other through random encounters. You'd stand in the corners together at parties, nervous about committing a social faux pas. You sat at the same tables at lunch, surrounded by loud, boisterous girls you didn't know that well. You lived in the same dorm, and you'd sometimes run into each other outside the microwave when you made popcorn.
After a while, you started chatting with each other. You realized you were in a class together in the spring. She asked you to be in her portrait assignment for her photography class.
All at once, you were inseparable. A little switch clicked. You were lucky to have met Eliza. You're two sides of the same coin, balancing each other out. Eliza makes you come out of your shell and be a stronger person.
But lately, like Jess, you feel like you're shouting at Eliza from across a valley whenever you get lunch together. You aren't quite connecting, not like you used to. Eliza is obsessed with boys. You aren't. She's still going to parties all the time. You aren't.
You still love her.
You hope she loves you too, [[even though you're not a good person.|adaptive11.1]]When you were in fifth grade, you played a munchkin in your middle school performance of Wizard of Oz. Your mom fretted that the costume was a little too small, and Janet laughed and called you fat.
You remember screwing up a line in your song. You locked yourself in the bathroom and cried. Your dad kept trying to convince you to open the door. He got mad when you wouldn't.
You've always felt like a performer on a stage. Except the skin you're wearing doesn't fit quite right, and it might not even be your own. [[Everything seems false.|adaptive11.1]]You read about all of these strategies on a website where people liked your congregated. Maybe you should think about checking out those websites again, to help you get back on your feet after [[gaining those two pounds.|adaptive12.2]]You met Eliza freshman year. It wasn't love at first sight. In fact, you ran into each a number of times without ever saying more than two words to each other.
Slowly, however, like falling asleep, you got to know each other through random encounters. You'd stand in the corners together at parties, nervous about committing a social faux pas. You sat at the same tables at lunch, surrounded by loud, boisterous girls you didn't know that well. You lived in the same dorm, and you'd sometimes run into each other outside the microwave when you made popcorn.
After a while, you started chatting with each other. You realized you were in a class together in the spring. She asked you to be in her portrait assignment for her photography class.
All at once, you were inseparable. A little switch clicked. You were lucky to have met Eliza. You're two sides of the same coin, balancing each other out. Eliza makes you come out of your shell and be a stronger person.
But lately, like Jess, you feel like you're shouting at Eliza from across a valley whenever you get lunch together. You aren't quite connecting, not like you used to. Eliza is obsessed with boys. You aren't. She's still going to parties all the time. You aren't.
You still love her.
You hope she loves you too, [[even though you're not a good person.|adaptive11]]<<if $puppy is true>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem + 1>><<set $happiness to $happiness + 1>><<set $weight to $weight + 2>>You help Eliza study for her exam. It's filled with a lot of quiet giggling as you continuously get sidetracked. Finally, you both decide to take a break because you aren't getting anything done.
"Oh, I need to show you this cute video..." She brings up YouTube on her laptop and searches for a cute kitten video. You reach for your phone, intent to show her a picture of Somers. You're still trying to convince your mom to adopt her.
When you lift your head up, phone poised with a picture of Somers, an ad for a popular clothing store splashes across the computer screen in a wash of pastel pink. A young female model poses in the newest fall line, dancing around in front of the Millenial pink background. At one point, she appears on the screen in a crop top, showing off a flat stomach and narrowly curved waist. If she turned and stood in profile, she'd barely be the width of your palm.
She's probably a size 0.
"God, skinny bitches," Eliza shakes her head. "That doesn't even look healthy. I bet she has an eating disorder or something. It's the fashion industry. I thought it wasn't 2009 anymore."
You can't stop yourself from rubbing the ugly bubble of fat on your hip. You feel it growing and pulsating under your skin, some sick yellow protrusion clinging to your hipbone like a parasite.
"Don't you think?" Eliza looks at you.
You actually consider what she's saying for a moment. Is it wrong to be that skinny? You look down at the picture of Somers, her big eyes and fuzzy ears. She's such a homely dog.
"That's not healthy," you finally say. The words feel like they've been torn from your mouth.
"No, it's not! I mean, if you're naturally skinny, whatever. But her cheekbones were way too prominent. Total sign of an eating disorder. That's a crappy way to live, dude."
You keep picturing that model's tiny waist, but Eliza's words continue to snap in your skull like a rubberband. A crappy way to live. Is that what this is?
<<elseif $puppy is false>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem - 1>><<set $happiness to $happiness - 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 3>>$weight. $weight. $weight.
You might as well tattoo the number to your forehead. You're already getting enough stares from your peers. You shouldn't have taken that extra bite of lunch. Eliza had pressured you. Why did you give in?
This body feels heavier and heavier by the day. Your body weighs you down, prevents you from being the best you can be--lovable, popular, successful, intelligent. By now, you're probably up to 115 pounds, 120, 130, 150.
You help Eliza study for her exam. You both decide to take a break after half an hour or so. You silently fume next to her as you watch her munch on a cookie she got from the coffee shop downstairs.
"Oh, I need to show you this cute video..." She brings up YouTube on her laptop and searches for a cute kitten video. You smile slightly as she clicks on it. An ad for a popular clothing store splashes across the screen in a wash of pastel pink. A young female model poses in the newest fall line, dancing around in front of the Millenial pink background. At one point, she appears on the screen in a crop top, showing off a flat stomach and narrowly curved waist. If she turned and stood in profile, she'd barely be the width of your palm.
She's probably a size 0.
"God, skinny bitches," Eliza shakes her head. "That doesn't even look healthy. I bet she has an eating disorder or something. It's the fashion industry. I thought it wasn't 2009 anymore."
You can't stop yourself from rubbing the ugly bubble of fat on your hip. You feel it growing and pulsating under your skin, some sick yellow protrusion clinging to your hipbone like a parasite.
$weight. $weight. $weight.
"Don't you think?" Eliza looks at you.
"That's not healthy," you lie.
"No, it's not! I mean, if you're naturally skinny, whatever. But her cheekbones were way too prominent. Total sign of an eating disorder. That's a crappy way to live, dude."
You keep picturing that model's tiny waist.<</if>>
[[Next|Day3]]You were supposed to have lunch with [[Eliza|eliza2]] that day, but you text her and cancel at the last minute. You need to focus on your school work. You don't have time to be [[distracted]].
Your phone buzzes. It's a text from your boyfriend.
Derek: What're you up to right now?
1. [[Nothing much.|derek2.2]]
2. [[I'm working on homework right now. I'll talk to you later.|evade22]]You met Eliza freshman year. It wasn't love at first sight. In fact, you ran into each a number of times without ever saying more than two words to each other.
Slowly, however, like falling asleep, you got to know each other through random encounters. You'd stand in the corners together at parties, nervous about committing a social faux pas. You sat at the same tables at lunch, surrounded by loud, boisterous girls you didn't know that well. You lived in the same dorm, and you'd sometimes run into each other outside the microwave when you made popcorn.
After a while, you started chatting with each other. You realized you were in a class together in the spring. She asked you to be in her portrait assignment for her photography class.
All at once, you were inseparable. A little switch clicked. You were lucky to have met Eliza. You're two sides of the same coin, balancing each other out. Eliza makes you come out of your shell and be a stronger person.
But lately, like Jess, you feel like you're shouting at Eliza from across a valley whenever you get lunch together. You aren't quite connecting, not like you used to. Eliza is obsessed with boys. You aren't. She's still going to parties all the time. You aren't.
Maybe you just [[aren't compatible anymore.|control22]]It's pasta bar in the dining hall today. You can picture the vats of ruby-bright sauce, an enormous tray of noodles sprinkled with flecks of green basil.
You can picture yourself standing in line, a plate in hand. See your hand reaching out and scooping up a small mountain of noodles. See the sauce dripping down between the noodles like lava.
[[You don't want it. You don't want it you don't want ityoudontwantit|control22]]Derek: Do you want to get dinner right now?
You haven't gone out with him in a while. You know you should go with him to dinner, even though it makes your skin crawl.
[[Claire: Sure.|dinner]]You still have an A. You repeat that in your head over and over. It could've been much worse.
Tears pool in your eyes. It's still a failure. Anything less than an A is a failure.
You rub at your eyes. Just take a deep breath. Count to ten. Breathe.
1. [[Keep working on your homework.|homework.5]]
2. [[Go into the kitchen. Get away from your failure.|purge4]]You're a failure. How did you forget about your homework? You're [[supposed to be better than that.]] What will the professor think of you now? You usually do so well in that class.
You shove your textbooks away. You can feel your stomach knotting itself into a tight ball.
Without conscious thought, you find yourself shooting off of the bed. You stumble into the kitchen.
1. [[Binge.|binge]]
2. Talk to Jess. You need someone to calm you down.
3. [[Go to the gym downstairs and work it off. Run until you can't feel your legs anymore. Run and run and run and run.|gym]]
<<if visited("disappointment") is 1>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem - 2>><<set $happiness to $happiness - 1>><</if>>You've always been an excellent student. Your mother accuses you of being a perfectionist, so obsessed with letters and numbers that you dream about them at night. They circle your head instead of cartoon clouds or birds.
In middle school, you had a recurring nightmare of failing out of high school. You studied for the ACT months in advance. Whenever you had an exam, you wouldn't eat for days beforehand.
Perfectionist seems too tame of a word for what you are. In freshman year psych, you debated self-diagnosing yourself with anxiety.
Anything less than an A is failure. [[Anything less than perfect is failure.|disappointment]]It looks like a crime scene. When you swim to the surface and finally manage to breath, you look down at the massacre you caused in the kitchen.
You stumble back, staring down at your dirty hands.
You [[lost control.]]
1. [[You need to purge it out of you, before it sinks into your skin.|purge4]]
2. [[You can't handle this day anymore. You need to crawl into bed and pull the sheets over your head until the world ends.|endofworld]]
<<if visited("binge") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight + 2>><</if>>You think you could jump off the treadmill and fly.
The weight seems to drop away as you run. [[Longer, faster, harder.]] Until you can taste sweat on your upper lip and feel fat droplets dripping down your temples. Rivers of sweat settle on your lower back.
You can't stop yet. If you stop, all of the bad thoughts will snap back into your skull like a rubber band pulled too far. When you run, the shadows slink back into the darker corners of your brain.
You watch the calorie counter on the treadmill.
1. [[You need to go longer. There's 3500 calories in a pound.|run]]
2. [[Your side hurts too much. You need to stop.|stop]]
<<if visited("gym") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 2>><</if>>Some people got confused about what it meant to have this problem. They thought it was about getting attention. They thought it was the bodily version of stomping your foot and throwing a tantrum.
But that was never what it had been about for you. You weren't trying to be childish, trying to get attention so mommy and daddy would finally pat you on the head and tell you that you were a good girl.
No. It wasn't about that at all.
If anything, this is how you were supposed to become an adult. To finally prove to everyone that you weren't just good enough, but that you were better. Perfect. Above any reproach.
This wasn't a cry for attention, at least not like they understood it. It was a running leap into empty air, hoping your malnourished wings would carry you someone far away. You wanted people to see you--not your problem, but you. How successful you were. How perfect you were.
And if you did things like this, you would [[never get to that point.|binge]]You spend the rest of the day in bed. Your phone buzzes on your bedside table, but you don't bother to check it.
Jess knocks on your bedroom door and asks if you want dinner. You can't muster the energy to formulate a reply, so you ignore her.
Instead, you stare at the ceiling all day. Watching the shadows crawl across the white paint like tentacles reaching in through your bedroom window.
You curl up onto your side and pray for the day to end.
1. [[The next day, you fast, just to be safe.|fast]]
2. [[You don't even bother to get out of bed the next day.|scared]]
You run the fan and turn on the shower. Just in case.
It gives you an odd sense of power, as you watch the toilet flush. For a moment, you had been helpless to the food. But after doing that, you took control again. If anything, you had even more control than you did before. You could eat as many calories as you wanted, and as long as you vomited soon after, the fat wouldn't roll of your limbs like sludge.
You sit back and stare at the toilet. You've known girls who prefer vomiting to starvation. Starvation seems a better alternative, in your opinion. There's something so base and disgusting about sticking a finger down your throat.
But you won't forget the rush you felt as you watched the food flush away, like it had never been in your body to begin with. Like it had never tainted you.
[[Next|Day3]]
<<if visited("purge4") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 2>><</if>>You won't let your body take control like that again. You must maintain rigid control from now on.
You restrict your calorie intake for the next couple of days, and throw in a number of fasts.
The numbers on the scale continue to climb downwards.
[[Next|Day3]]
<<if visited("fast") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 2>><<set $scholarship to $scholarship + 2>><</if>>"Hey, Claire, are you okay?"
You ignore Jess' polite knocks on your bedroom door.
Your heart beats fast and loose in your cage. The rhythm feels uneven. You think your ribs might snap under the repeated thump, thump, thump. You hit that feeling in your chest, wish it would stop.
"Claire, what's going on?"
"Sick," you finally call. You want her to leave you alone. You gave in to temptation. You are terrified to step on the scale again and see proof of your failure.
"Well, okay. I'll check on you later. Make sure you eat something and drink plenty of water."
You hear the apartment door close as she leaves for the day.
You can't bring yourself to move.
[[Next|Day3]]
<<if visited("scared") is 1>><<set $happiness to $happiness - 1>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem - 1>><<set $weight to $weight + 1>><</if>>It won't ever be enough.
You run and run and run.
You barely manage to pull the safety switch before you feel your ankles give out beneath you. The treadmill immediately stops. You are on your knees on the track, panting loudly, like a dog. You suck in air, but it doesn't feel like your lungs are big enough. You push sweat-soaked hair out of your face.
"You okay?" A distant voice asks.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
When you don't say anything else, they leave you alone.
After a few minutes, you find the strength to climb to your feet. You feel a little wobbly, but you're okay.
People are staring at you. This isn't the kind of attention you want. No, they're ogling you because they just saw you in a moment of weakness. Your cheeks burn as you pick up your things and return to your apartment.
The scale beckons to you from the bathroom.
You hadn't burned enough calories.
1. [[Tomorrow, you'll sit in the library all day and study. And you will make it an impromptu fasting day. You can't afford to slip up like that, not again.|Day3]]
2. [[You don't even think you'll be able to pull yourself out of bed tomorrow. You humiliated yourself, first in the kitchen, now in the gym. You're a failure.|Day3]]The treadmill grinds to a halt under your sneakers. You wipe at your sweaty forehead.
"You alright?"
You nearly jump out of your skin when you look over and meet Adam's eyes.
"I'm fine," you pant. "I'm fine."
"You sure about that?"
"I just..."
1. [["I got upset because I forgot to turn in some homework and it brought my grade down."|honesty]]
2. [["I just went a little too hard, I guess."|lie]]"It happens." Adam shrugs. "What's your grade in the class now?"
"It's, um, still an A."
"See, you're fine." He insists. He abruptly shifts gears, like that wasn't a big deal at all. You aren't sure how to feel about that. You won't quite meet his eyes because you don't know if you want to recapture the intimacy from working at the shelter earlier. "Hey, would you mind if I sent you my bio proposal for you to take a look at?"
"Ah, yeah, that's fine."
"Okay, cool. See you later."
Adam walks away.
You try to think about what he said. Homework only counts for 10% of your grade--it's not really that big of a deal, like Adam said. So why do you still feel like such an abject failure, and Adam is able to shrug it off like it's no big deal? You stare down at the ties of your sneakers.
You take a deep breath and try to let it go.
[[Next|Day3]]
<<if visited("honesty") is 1>><<set $Adam to $Adam + 2>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem + 1>><<set $AdamFriend to true>><<set $weight to $weight + 2>><</if>>"A little? You should see your face right now. You look like you're about to pass out."
"Ah,"
"Look, just be careful, okay? You look like a hard fall would break you."
Your eyes widen. Is he making a joke about your weight? You thought Adam was different than everyone else, after how much time you spent together at the shelter earlier today.
"I don't want my new tutor to break herself before we can get my grades up." Adam winks at you. You blush profusely and look down at your shoes.
"Uh, yeah," you don't know how to feel. "I'll see you tomorrow."
You jump off the treadmill and practically run out of the gym. Why can't you do anything right anymore? You forgot to turn in your homework, and now you're blushing and stuttering around another a guy. Which is totally unfair to Derek.
You lock yourself in your room and cry the rest of the night.
[[Next|Day3]]
<<if visited("lie") is 1>><<set $Adam to $Adam - 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 4>><<set $AdamFriend to false>><</if>>It sucks and you hate yourself. But you force yourself to finish your homework.
You stare down at the loose leaf collection of chem problems. It's something, at least. You sigh heavily, and it feels like your entire body deflates. You nibble at one fingernail and glance at the clock. 5:30 pm.
1. [[Just have a small snack.|adaptive22]]
2. [[You make yourself fast. You deserve it for doing so poorly on your bio quiz.|fast2]]
<<if visited("homework.5") is 1>><<set $scholarship to $scholarship + 2>><</if>>2 ounces of tuna canned in water (66 calories)
3 ounces of green beans (26 calories)
Better than nothing.
[[Next|Day3]]
<<if visited("adaptive22") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight + 1>><<set $happiness to $happiness - 1>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem - 1>><</if>>You don't eat dinner. You don't go out into the living room to talk to Jess. You shut yourself away and focus on studying.
You restrict your calorie intake for the next couple of days, and throw in a number of fasts.
You have to do whatever you can to make those numbers go down.
[[Next|Day3]]
<<if visited("fast2") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 7>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem + 1>><<set $happiness + 1>><</if>>You meet Derek at the restaurant. He kisses you on the cheek. He talks to the hostess. You pull at the [[sleeves of your sweater.]]
The hostess takes you to a table near the window.
"How have you been--" You begin to ask.
Almost out of nowhere, one of Derek's football friends appears and they start talking. Derek smiles apologetically, but he turns his entire body to face his friend and seems to block you from the conversation.
You play with your fork. Your knee keeps jumping up and down under the table. You feel like there are ants crawling under your skin, gnawing on your bones. It's so cold in this restaurant. You rub at the back of your neck and try to take deep breaths. Eventually, the friend leaves.
"So how--" You begin again.
"Hi, folks, how are you doing today?" [[The waitress]] chooses that moment to stop by.
"We are great, how about yourself?" Derek is always so loud. You block them both out until the waitress asks for your drink order. You watch as a server strolls by with three heaping plates of food.
"Just water, please."
The waitress walks away.
"Is everything okay, babe?" Derek asks.
1. "I think I have an eating disorder."
2. [["Yes, everything is fine. I'm not the one who just looked at the server's ass."|argue2]]You don't remember what it's like to be warm. You're always so exposed, even when you're under [[layers and layers of sweaters.|dinner]]You notice Derek's eyes drop to the waitress's ass when she turns to take your order. You take her in at a glance. She's petite and narrow, with slender legs like a gazelle. She has a significant thigh gap. Her chest is flat and compact. You think she must be skinnier than you.
She's very pretty. [[Probably a size 0.|dinner]]
<<if visited("The waitress") is 1>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem - 2>><<set $happiness to $happiness - 1>><<set $Derek to $Derek - 1>><</if>>"Jesus, where the hell did that come from?" Derek glares at you. "I wasn't staring at her ass. I was trying to read the sticker on the front of her checkbook--"
"Okay, then forget I said anything. If it isn't that big of a deal."
"Jeez, Claire, stop being so dramatic."
1. [["I'm being dramatic? How am I being dramatic?"|escalate]]
2. [["Okay, fine, forget about it."|mad]]
<<if visited("argue2") is 1>><<set $Derek to $Derek - 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 2>><</if>>"Stop shouting, people are looking at us."
"Let them look then, and see what a beautiful couple we are. Don't you think we are so cute?" You stand up. The silverware jumps as you hit the table with your thighs. "We don't have any problems. We are just perfect."
"What the hell has gotten into you?"
"I want to go home."
"Claire, you're overreacting--"
"Don't tell me what I am or am not doing." You grab your purse. "Take me home. Or I can call Jess to pick me up. Then you and that waitress can chat all night long."
Derek seems downright mystified by you're behavior. But you can't seem to stop yourself from saying these things, from grabbing your stuff and marching towards the door.
You want to get away from this place, from these people.
"Claire, hold on." Derek chases after you. "I'll take you home. I don't know what the fuck has gotten into you. You need to stop getting so emotional over little things--"
1. [["Stop telling me how to feel."|escalate2]]
2. [[Say nothing.|adaptive27]]
<<if visited("escalate") is 1>><<set $Derek to $Derek - 1>><<set $happiness to $happiness - 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 1>><</if>>"Jesus Christ," Derek pulls at the ends of his pretty caramel blond hair. He always gets a lot of attention for his tussled locks. "I can't deal with this right now."
"Can't deal with what?"
"You! This! Whatever the fuck has gotten into you."
"Stop talking down to me."
"I'm not talking down to you."
"You're trying to dismiss how I feel! That's not fair!"
"No, what isn't fair is how you just embarrassed both of us in that restaurant. Jesus, my friend probably saw all of that--"
"I'm calling Jess."
"What?"
"If I'm such an embarassment to be around, I won't make you put up with me anymore." You stop on the sidewalk and pull out your phone. You dial Jess' number. Warm moisture soaks your cheeks. When did you start crying? Why are your hands shaking so badly?
"Hello--"
"Jess, come pick me up."
"Huh?"
"What the hell, Claire?"
It starts to sink in, what you've done. Your shoulders shake. You've made a fool of yourself in front of Derek, all those people. You're ashamed. "I want to go home."
"Uh, okay, yeah, I'll be right there."
You hang up. You can barely breathe.
"Claire, are you okay?"
You're having a panic attack. You've never lost it like that in public. You hate it. You hate that you've brought this on Derek--on yourself.
"I-I'm sorry." You stammer. It probably doesn't mean much. "I-I can't do this right now. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."
You walk over and sit down on the curb. You wait for Jess to come and get you.
[[Next|car]]
<<if visited("escalate2") is 1>><<set $Derek to $Derek - 5>>Derek takes you home. You can tell he's pissed.
"I didn't mean to snap at you, Claire," he says. His knuckles are white on the steering wheel. "It's just...I...I'm kind of worried about you."
"Worried?"
"You've seemed, I don't know, kind of distant lately."
[["I've just had a lot on my mind with school and stuff."|lie2]]
<<if visited("adaptive27") is 1>><<set $Derek to $Derek - 2>><</if>>"How was your uncle's surgery?" You don't want to talk anymore about feelings. You just want to get this night over with as quickly as possible.
So you and Derek have stilted, awkward conversation, moving from topic to topic with as much grace as a butterfly with a broken wing. The table is only a few feet long. You feel like there are trenches and mountains and miles between you two.
He called you overdramatic. You hate that. Your mom used to say that to you too. She told you to get a "thicker skin." What the hell did that even mean? And why did you have to thicken your skin--couldn't the world just become a kinder place?
You order a half salad, no cheese, no croutons, no dressing. The server must get orders like that all the time, from health nuts and vegans and gluten-intolerants. And from people with eating disorders. But she'll never know which is which, and she'll drop it off without batting an eyelash.
When she drops off the salad, you push the tomatoes into the corner of the bowl. You pick out the radishes too, and pile them next to the tomatoes. You don't look how chaotic the salad looks with everything mixed in.
Derek ordered a burger. For a while, the only sounds at the table are chewing sounds.
It's your turn to pay for dinner.
Derek asks if you want to come to his place.
1. [["Sure, yeah, I'll follow you there."|sex]]
2. [["I'm tired. I think I'm just going to go home."|home]]
<<if visited("mad") is 1>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem - 1>><<set $Derek to $Derek - 2>><<set $weight to $weight + 1>><</if>>"So, um, is everything okay?" Jess asks.
"It's fine."
"Derek seemed pretty mad..."
"He called me over emotional. Is it possible for someone to be over emotional? Aren't we supposed to feel?"
"Well, sometimes people feel a little too much."
"Seriously, Jess, are you siding with him?"
"I'm not siding with anyone."
"I don't want to talk about this."
"Okay," Jess clutches the steering wheel. "But I'm here if you need to talk. You've seemed really stressed out and anxious lately. I just want...to make sure you're okay."
1. "I'm not okay."
2. [[Silence.|quiet]]
3. [["I know you're here for me," you whisper.|adaptive28]]
The silence in the car rings in your ears. Jess doesn't say anything else as you drive home.
[[Next|Day3]]
<<if visited("quiet") is 1>><<set $Jess to $Jess - 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 4>><<set $happiness to $happiness + 1>><</if>>"I'm worried about you," Jess insists.
"I worry about me sometimes too." Your arms are so heavy. You lean your head back against the headrest. "I just...I can't do it right now, Jess. I'm sorry."
"Don't ever apologize, Claire," she sighs. "You feel the way you feel, and I don't want you to think that that's somehow bad or you shouldn't feel as strongly as you do. Because, honestly, it's great that there are people like you that are so in touch with their emotions. But it's just--coping. You can't let the world into your heart. It'll destroy you."
You don't say anything. You can't stop crying.
You drive the rest of the way home in silence.
[[Next|Day3]]
<<if visited("adaptive28") is 1>><<set $Jess to $Jess + 2>><<set $weight to $weight + 2>><</if>>You know Derek will want to have sex when you get back to the apartment. He thinks that'll fix everything. That sex will magically return the intimacy to your relationship and smooth over the rough edges.
It doesn't. You lie there and stare at the ceiling and wish you'd never replied to his text. You wish you'd never started dating him in the first place. You leave as soon as he falls asleep. Your car is parked on the curb.
You get in and drive.
Streetlights burn in the darkness like glowing eyes, making the streets, wet from rain, ignite in a river of fire. You stare at the streetlights as you drive. The town is quiet. Your head is not. The orange light seems to seep into your skull and turn your brain into a disco ball. Your mind spins as you think about the dinner with Derek. You picture the waitress. You think about your classes. Faster, your thoughts spinning like a broken carnival ride.
You blow through a redlight because you aren't paying attention. Thankfully, no one was coming the other way.
You end up back at the apartment. Jess is still up.
"Hey, I didn't think you were coming back tonight." She sits on the couch, writing a paper.
"Yeah."
"You okay?"
1. "No."
2. [["Just tired. I'll see you in the morning."|avoid]]
3. [["Derek and I got in a fight."|honesty2]]
<<if visited("sex") is 1>><<set $Derek to $Derek - 2>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem - 1>><</if>>You go back to your apartment. Jess is still up.
"Hey, I didn't think you were coming back tonight." She sits on the couch, writing a paper.
"Yeah."
"You okay?"
1. "No."
2. [["Just tired. I'll see you in the morning."|avoid]]
3. [["Derek and I got in a fight."|honesty2]]
<<if visited("home") is 1>><<set $Jess to $Jess - 1>><</if>>"Okay," Jess smiles. Her face is illuminated by the computer screen. "Night, Claire."
"Night."
You close the door.
You go into the bathroom and take off all of your classes. Stare at the gap between you thighs. It's barely a sliver, you think. The waitress was skinnier than you. Therefore, she was prettier than you, even if her nose was crooked and she had a gap between her two front teeth.
You count your rib bones. You've heard urban legends about women removing rib bones so they can be skinnier.
You wish you could do the same thing.
[[Next|Day3]]
<<if visited("avoid") is 1>><<set $Jess to $Jess - 1>><</if>>
"What about?" Jess asks. You sit on the loveseat across from her.
"He looked at the waitress. I know he did. And I called him on it, and he got mad and called me overdramatic."
"Ah," Jess knows how much you hate being called overdramatic.
"I'm not being 'overly dramatic.' I just...I feel a lot."
"I know you do."
"And do you think that's a bad thing?"
Jess seems to wrestle with what to say for a moment. It makes your ears ring.
"Well, sometimes people feel a little too much."
"Seriously, Jess, are you siding with him?"
"I'm not siding with anyone."
"I don't want to talk about this." You don't get up from the loveseat.
She nibbles on her lower lip before speaking again.
"I'm here if you need to talk. You've seemed really stressed out and anxious lately. I just want...to make sure you're okay."
1. "I'm not okay."
2. [[Silence.|quiet2]]
3. [["I know you're here for me," you whisper.|adaptive28.2]]The silence in the living room rings in your ears.
"Night, Jess."
You get up and go into your bedroom. You close the door very carefully and quietly.
[[Next|Day3]]
<<if visited("quiet2") is 1>><<set $Jess to $Jess - 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 4>><</if>>"I'm worried about you," Jess insists.
"I worry about me sometimes too." Your arms are so heavy. You stare at the salmon carpet. "I just...I can't do it right now, Jess. I'm sorry."
"Don't ever apologize, Claire," she sighs. "You feel the way you feel, and I don't want you to think that that's somehow bad or you shouldn't feel as strongly as you do. Because, honestly, it's great that there are people like you that are so in touch with their emotions. But it's just--coping. You can't let the world into your heart. It'll destroy you."
You don't say anything. You can't stop crying.
[[Next|Day3]]
<<if visited("adaptive28.2") is 1>><<set $Jess to $Jess + 2>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem + 1>><<set $weight to $weight + 3>><</if>>"And I know how important school is for you. Believe me, I get it. But you're just so tightly wound lately and I don't want you to give yourself a freaking heart attack."
"I'm fine. I think I'm just adjusting to being back at school still," you say. "I just need more time to level out."
"I...yeah, I guess." He shifts in his seat. "You know I'm always here if you need to talk to someone, right?"
1. [["I know," you say.|acknowledge]]
2. [[Silence.|ignore3]]
<<if visited("lie2") is 1>><<set $Derek to $Derek - 2>><<set $weight to $weight - 1>><</if>>"I didn't mean to call you over dramatic. I know how much you hate that," he says. "And I mean, it's not fair. You know, you feel how you feel."
He takes a deep breath.
"But maybe, I don't know, you should think about, uh, talking to someone. Like the counselors at school. Just to get stuff off your chest."
1. [["So you think I'm crazy."|accuse]]
2. [["I'll think about it."|acknowledge2]]
<<if visited("acknowledge") is 1>><<set $Derek to $Derek + 1>><<set $weight to $weight + 1>><</if>>The silence in the car rings in your ears. Derek doesn't say anything else as you drive home.
[[Next|Day3]]
<<if visited("ignore3") is 1>><<set $Derek to $Derek - 2>><<set $weight to $weight - 2>><</if>>"Jesus--Claire, I didn't say that. You know I didn't say that." His jaw clenches.
"Well, that's what it sounds like to me."
"I'm not trying to judge you."
Not trying to judge you? What about all of the times he told you to go to the gym? Looked at your hips and thighs and then told you he just found this new diet on Facebook?
"I'm sorry. I'm overreacting." You whisper. You hate using that word--'overreacting.' You don't feel like you are. But you've done enough to make him hate you. Make everyone in that restaurant hate you. You drop your head in your hands and try not to cry. You made an idiot of yourself.
It seemed like a good idea at the time. A way to get away from all of those prying eyes, the inevitable questions.
Now--you just hate yourself even more. You want to apologize a million times, but it won't be enough.
The silence in the car is deafening as he drives you home.
[[Next.|home]]
<<if visited("accuse") is 1>><<set $Derek to $Derek - 3>><<set $weight to $weight - 1>><</if>>"Yeah, just, yeah, that's fine." Derek drums his fingers on the steering wheel. He hasn't looked at you this entire conversation. "I care about you a lot, Claire."
"I care about you too."
"Just--don't shut me out completely."
You drive the rest of the way in silence.
[[Next|home]]
<<if visited("acknowledge2") is 1>><<set $Derek to $Derek - 2>><</if>>Double-click this passage to edit it.1/2 an apple (36 calories)
The apple crunches between your teeth like toenails and bones. You hate the texture. The juice slides down the back of your tongue like pus.
<<if $Jess < 0>>"Hey, girl," Jess comes into the kitchen. She stops for a second, glancing at you. Quickly looks away. "I'll see you later."
It's Wednesday. You used to do movie nights every Wednesday. Not anymore. You aren't even sure the last time you sat down and really had a meaningful conversation with your roommate.
1. [["Hey, what're you doing tonight?"|control32]]
2. [[She isn't worth your time. You have to work on your paper.|extreme22]]
<<else>>"Hey, babe, I have exciting news!" Jess flounces into the kitchen. She has her backpack slung over one shoulder. "This hot mama just got a date with a super cute boy from my sociology class. We're going to get pizza tonight. Pray to the lord I don't spill sauce on my dress."
You smile, and it stretches against your mouth like plastic. The apple is going down your throat like razor blades.
"I need to start moving on from James, you know? He was a crackhead anyway. That's why he was always so nice, if you couldn't tell." She pats her backpack. "Anyway, I'm going to meet some my group members for a project in physiology. Kill me now. They don't understand APA citation at all and it's starting to drive me up the wall."
"Have fun," you say. Your voice is filmy and low. Jess pauses in the doorway. She stares at you for a long moment.
"Are you okay, Claire?" She asks.
1. [["Of course I'm fine! Just tired. Well, I don't want you to be late. I'll see you later."|extreme22]]
2. [["Are you going to wear your floral dress with all the cutouts on your date?"|deflect2]]<</if>>
<<set $pizza to false>>
<<set $pizza2 to false>>You open your laptop to work on your paper. You hear Jess moving around in the kitchen, but you don't feel like talking to her right now. You are too focused on your paper.
Your phone goes off. At first, you don't look at it.
Another text comes.
You ignore it.
Then another.
Finally, you force yourself to look at your cell phone. It's like swimming out of a misty void. Your sister, Janet, has texted you.
Janet: I am driving through your campus today. Do you want to get lunch?
1. [[Claire: Yeah. What time?|janet2]]"I have a date tonight," Jess looks at you oddly. She reaches for the handle of the door. She's about to leave. She doesn't seem like she wants to talk to you right now.
1. [["Oh, really? With who?"|control33]]
2. [["Ah, have fun."|extreme23]]
You turn away from Jess and finish eating your apple. You hear close behind her.
You wander into your bedroom. You notice a message on your phone. <<if $AdamFriend is true>>It's a Facebook message. From Adam.
Adam: Do you want to go to the shelter today?
1. [[Claire: Sure. What time?|shelter25]]
2. [[Claire: Sorry, I'm busy today.|continue]]
<<elseif $AdamFriend is false>>Your sister, Janet, has texted you.
Janet: I am driving through your campus today. Do you want to get lunch?
1. [[Claire: Yeah. What time?|janet2]]<</if>>"It's just a guy I met at a party." She shrugs.
1. [["What's his name?"|control34]]
2. [["Well, have fun!"|extreme24]]You turn away from Jess and finish eating your apple. You hear the door close behind her.
You wander into your bedroom. You notice a message on your phone. From Adam. <<if $AdamFriend is true>>Adam: Do you want to go with me to the shelter today?
1. [[Claire: Sure. What time?|shelter25]]
2. [[Claire: Sorry, I'm busy today.|continue]]
<<elseif $AdamFriend is false>>Adam: Do you want to work on our group project today?
1. [[Claire: Sure. What time?|control23.2]]
2. [[Claire: Sorry, I'm busy today.|continue]]<</if>>"Uh, his name is Tyler. Ratzow?" She adjusts her backpack. Her eyes drop to the apple in your hand. She fixates on something at your wrist. You glance down. You don't see anything out of the ordinary.
1. [["I think I had a class with him," you say, but you're uneasy. What got her attention?|control35]]
2. [["Have fun," you say, before yanking your sweatshirt down over your wrist. Why is she staring at you? You don't like it.|extreme25]]You turn away from Jess and finish eating your apple. You hear close behind her.
You wander into your bedroom. You notice a message on your phone. From Adam. <<if $AdamFriend is true>>Adam: Do you want to go with me to the shelter today?
1. [[Claire: Sure. What time?|shelter25]]
2. [[Claire: Sorry, I'm busy today.|continue]]
<<elseif $AdamFriend is false>>Adam: Do you want to work on our project today?
1. [[Claire: Sure. What time?|control23.2]]
2. [[Claire: Sorry, I'm busy today.|continue]]<</if>>"Yeah, I think you had, uh, psych..." Jess pauses. "Look, I'm running late. I'll talk to you...later, okay? I'll text you. Tyler and I didn't have the date set in stone. I haven't gotten to see you a while. Maybe we should do a movie night?"
1. [["Oh, yeah, I guess. I haven't gotten to talk to you in forever."|control36]]
2. [["No, don't cancel your date for me. We can find another day." You say. You don't like how she looked at your wrist. Was she judging you?|extreme26]]
<<if visited("control35") is 1>><<set $Jess to $Jess + 1>><</if>>You turn away from Jess. The door opens.
She doesn't leave.
"Hey, you know, we haven't done a pizza night in a while. Tyler and I haven't set our date in stone. Do you want to do a pizza night? Tonight?"
1. [["Oh, yeah, I guess. I haven't gotten to talk to you in forever."|control36]]
2. [["No, don't cancel your date for me. We can find another day." You say.|extreme26]]
<<if visited("extreme25") is 1>><<set $Jess to $Jess - 1>><</if>>"Okay, I'll text you." Jess smiles. It's tight and close-lipped.
"Uh, yeah, I'll see you later."
She leaves.
[[Next|control37]]
<<if visited("control36") is 1>><<set $Jess to $Jess + 1>><</if>><<if $Jess < 0>>"You sure? I really miss our pizza nights." Jess says.
"We can do a pizza night next week." You reply. She presses her lips together.
"Okay," she whispers. "I guess I'll, uh, see you later."
"Yeah. Bye."
She leaves. You throw the apple away.
[[Next|continue]]
<<else>><<set $pizza to true>>"You sure? I feel like you need the company tonight." Jess wanders back into the kitchen. "I really think we should do a pizza night. I really don't mind rescheduling with Tyler."
You chew your bottom lip. You stare at the apple, the white flesh already beginning to brown.
"Okay, if that's okay with you. I do miss pizza nights." You say.
"Okay, great! I'll see you later, Claire." She pauses in the doorway. "Make sure you have something for lunch. It seems like you're skipping a lot of meals lately."
She has no idea. But you nod and smile, and you wait to drop to the floor until after she leaves. Your heart is racing, racing, racing, and it hurts to beat in your chest. You feel like you're about to pass out.
You take a few deep breaths. After a few minutes, you are able to stand again. You shuffle into your bedroom like an old woman and lay down in bed. Within moments, you've blacked out.<</if>>
[[Next|control37]]<<if $pizza is true>>"Claire?"
Your eyes fly open. For a moment, you're delirious, disoriented, staring up at the ceiling. You feel like you're under water, and the ceiling is the surface of dark depths. You want to swim up, up, up, break the surface, breathe.
"Claire? Where you at? I have pizza."
You finally recognize Jess's voice. You sit up, and your head swirls. You wish, for a moment, that you hadn't agreed to this movie night. You don't know if you'll be strong enough to get through this night without losing control.
But you have to. For Jess. You made her cancel her date because you're weak and selfish. You can't let her down.
You stumble into the living room. Jess puts a greasy pizza box on the coffee table.
"Want to pull up a movie?" She asks.
"Yeah, what do you want to watch?"
You and Jess eventually agree on a horror movie, something about demons and exorcisms.
Jess takes a slice and perches in a bean bag near the couch. You take one too. Pools of grease gather on top of plastic-white cheese.
1. [[Take a bite and spit it into your napkin.|bite]]
2. Eat it like a normal human being. You're so hungry, and you're so sick of pretending around everyone.
<<elseif $pizza is false>>Your heart starts racing when you hear the lock click on your apartment door. You regret agreeing to this movie night.
$weight. Still not good enough.
The door swings open, and the stench of greasy pizza floods the room like dirty mop water overflowing from a bucket. The pizza box enters the room before Jess does. You stare at the dark stains at the corners of the box.
Your head starts pounding. You shift on the couch, pulling the blanket tighter over your knees. You stare down at your chem textbook.
"Hey, girl." Jess stumbles into the house, her jewelry clinking loudly, the chains on her boots echoing, her perfume wafting through the air. She fills the room. Even her voice seems to have a physical presence, almost bruising your skin.
"Hey."
"Did you want to pull up Netflix?"
"Sure."
You and Jess bicker about which movie to watch. You settle on a horror movie. Jess chatters at you from the kitchen. You feel oddly pleased that you're able to fool her so far.
She puts the pizza on the table as the movie begins. She takes a slice. You take one too. Pools of grease gather on top of plastic-white cheese.
[[Take a bite and spit it into your napkin.|bite]]<</if>>
Adam: Does 2 pm work?
Claire: Sure.
The conversation ends there. You decide to work on your lit paper until you have to meet with Adam.
[[Next|control24.2]]Adam has a reserved a room in the library. You meet him there. As usually, his hat is pulled low over his eyes. He has other homework set out in front of him on the table. When you come in, he starts shuffling papers and putting things away.
"Hey," he says. Doesn't ask how you are. What a charming, socially adept guy.
"Hi," you sit awkwardly across from him. "How are you?"
"Fine."
Okay, then.
"I started looking up articles to use for our proposal. Did you get my email?"
"Yeah, I started looking through them. I've taken a few notes."
You and Adam start discussing the articles. It's the type of stilted conversation usually reserved for first dates.
Suddenly, Adam's face swims in front of you. You can't remember what he said. What you said. He's giving you a strange look.
"Are you okay?" He asks.
[["Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired."|lie4]]"You sure you're okay? You kind of blacked out for a second there. You just stopped talking."
"What does it matter to you?"
You can't see Adam's eyes. But you can feel him watching you.
"Well, I want to get a good grade on this project. That's not going to happen if you're delirious from hunger."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"You're skin and bones. I can't imagine your brain is getting much nourishment at this point."
1. [["What the fuck are you trying to say to me?"|argue5]]
2. [["So what? I function better this way."|argue5.2]]"Whatever," Adam ignores you. Heat rises on your cheeks.
"Don't judge me, you asshole. I talked to Derek about you. He said he's surprised you're still alive after all the shit you did freshman and sophomore year."
"You know the funny thing about that? I am still alive. At the rate you're going, you won't be."
"I still don't even know what you're accusing me of. And how dare you talk to me that way. You know nothing about my life. You have no right to judge me or act like you're better than me."
"Well, isn't that funny. You act like you're better than everyone in our class all the time. Poor little white girl, starving herself to death to get mommy and daddy to notice her. I see through your goody two shoes act. You're not as nice and sweet as everyone thinks you are."
1. [[Walk away. He isn't worth your time.|argue5.5]]
2. [[He can't talk to you this way and get away with it.|control34.4]]
<<if visited("argue5") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 1>><</if>>"Are you?" Adam adjusts the rim of his hat. "Funny."
"I've never been able to think clearer than I do right now."
"When was the last time you ate?"
"I ate this morning."
Adam rubs the bridge of his nose.
"I've never felt better." You insist.
"Alcoholics say the same thing when they're drunk off their ass. Doesn't mean it's good for them."
"That's not the same thing."
"They both seem like coping mechanisms to me."
1. [["Look, let's just work on the project."|evade]]
2. [["And what am I coping with, exactly?"|prod]]You rise to your feet.
"What makes you think you have any right to say these things to me?" You say. "All of you people, you judge me and tell me what I'm doing is wrong. But you know what? I've never been happier. This is my body, and I can do with it whatever I want to. I'm not hurting anyone else. So why does it matter to anyone else?"
"You're being selfish."
"How? More food for everyone else!"
"What about your parents? Your siblings? Your friends?"
"It's not like they even care about me anymore. I haven't heard from my parents or siblings in weeks. My friends all hate me. I can see it in their faces. You all just want to judge me and decide what's best for me."
Adam takes a breath. "Look, I'm not trying to judge you. I just--fuck, I didn't mean to--"
"I'll email the professor about switching partners." You turn and walk out the door.
[[Next|control34.3]]You email the professor and ask about switching partners. She says she's fine with it as long as all parties are willing. You don't know anyone else in the class, besides Holly, who is partners with a friend of hers. You could message her.
You have a text message open.
Adam messages you on Facebook.
Adam: I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to judge you.
1. [[Ignore him. Text Holly.|text]]
2. [[Claire: Well, even if you weren't trying, that's what you did.|message]]You ignore the message and text Holly.
A few minutes later, Holly replies.
Holly: Me and my partner already started working on everything, I don't think I can switch. Sorry!
You stare at the Facebook message Adam sent you.
Adam: I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to judge you.
1. [[Claire: Well, even if you weren't trying, that's what you did.|message]]
2. [[You'll just have to suck it up for this project.|meetup]]
<<if visited("text") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 1>><</if>>Adam: I didn't handle that well. Look, I was like you, okay? I know we don't know each other that well, but okay here's the thing. I was on a bad path in freshman and sophomore year. You know how you are with food? That's how I was with alcohol. It wasn't just college binge drinking shit, it was bad. I needed it to get through the day. It was how I coped with the bad shit. I felt this badness inside of me, and drinking was the only way to lessen the pressure inside my skull. I hated myself, but I thought I loved myself. I ended up getting my stomach pumped. I passed out in a pool of my vomit and almost died. That's fucking humiliating. Just think about what you're doing and why you're doing it. And if you don't want to be partners anymore, whatever, but I'm still cool with it.
1. [[Don't reply. Your situations are nothing alike.|meetup]]
2. [[Claire: Okay. I'll think about it.|concede2]]You and Adam arrange another time to meet up and discuss your project. This time, you meet in the coffee shop. His hat is pulled even lower than usual. You realize that you've never seen him smile.
"I have more notes." You say.
"Okay."
You start working on the project.
You guys still don't click. It's going to suck working with him.
[[Next|Day4]]
<<if visited("meetup") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 3>><</if>>You and Adam arrange another time to meet up and discuss your project. This time, you meet in the coffee shop. His hat is pulled even lower than usual. You realize that you've never seen him smile.
"I have more notes." You say.
"Okay."
You start working on the project.
1. [["I'm sorry. About what happened to you."|adam2]]
2. [[Pretend like nothing happened.|project]]
"I don't want to talk about it." He says.
"Okay." You understand that. You glance up at him. "Did people...judge you?"
"What do you think? I was a fucking mess. I was the life of the party, and then no one wanted me anywhere near them. People are going to judge you no matter what. You just need a thicker skin about it."
Your lip curls. You hate that expression so much. Why do people keep saying that to you?
But you don't try to pick another fight. You feel weird knowing so much about Adam's past. It's almost like seeing him naked. You bury your head in the project, and you find out that you work pretty okay together.
[[Next|Day4]]
<<if visited("adam2") is 1>><<set $Adam to $Adam + 1>><<set $weight to $weight + 2>><</if>>It makes you uncomfortable to know so much about Adam's past. It's almost like you've seen him naked.
Derek warned you that Adam was a grade A loser. An alcoholic in the making with no future. Still, he's the first person who's even remotely been able to relate to you in some way. You think about what he said, that this is a way of coping with the badness inside of you. You aren't sure you one hundred percent agree, but some part of you won't stop nibbling at that little tidbit.
You find out that you and Adam work pretty okay together.
[[Next|Day4]]
<<if visited("project") is 1>><<set $Adam to $Adam + 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 1>><</if>>
<<set $Derekbreakup to false>><b>December</b>
Naked tree branches claw at the sky like skeletal fingers. You walk across campus, your scarf whipping in the breeze behind you. You feel like the wind is going to knock you down.
You are $weight pounds.
<<if $weight <= 81>>Midterm grades were reported a few weeks ago. All you see are A's--nothing below 94%.
You see a direct connection between the two. As you starved your brain, as you eliminated the need for food, you are whittled down to your soul, an ethereal and untouchable being who does not get weighed down by a fleshy, ugly body.
<<else>>Midterm grades were reported a few weeks ago. You're doing okay, A's and B's, and it makes you hate yourself. You should be doing better. You could be doing better, if you would just commit to your diet. But after that conversation--you aren't sure what to believe anymore. Is this unhealthy? Wrong? Should you be getting treatment?
You don't want to. No, you don't want to deal with the pain. It'll be like carving your heart out of your chest and putting it on a platter for the counselors to dissect while it's still bloody and beating.
You hate the idea of making yourself so vulnerable. You armor yourself in the disorder. It makes you feel safe and secure.
You feel weighed down by this fleshy, ugly body.<</if>>
<<if $Derekbreakup is false>>As you walk down the sidewalk, you glimpse Derek going into the main building. Heading to his physics class. You think about what has [[happened with Derek lately|can't help it.]] as you head to class.<</if>>
You walk past the coffee shop and see Eliza sitting at a table by the window. She's typing at her laptop, furiously chewing on her lower lip like it's an extreme sport.
[[You should go in and talk to her. You haven't seen her in a while.|Eliza40]]You get a message from Adam on Facebook.
Adam: Do you still want to work together on this project?
Claire: I don't know.
Adam: I don't care.
Claire: I'll email the professor.
But when you email the professor, she only replies that you can switch partners if all parties are willing. You try texting your friend Holly about switching. She says she can't, she and her partner have already started.
Claire: We are stuck together.
Adam: Don't sound so excited.
1. [[Claire: You called me a poor little white girl. You really think I'm excited to work with you?|debate]]
2. [[Claire: When are you free to meet again?|smoothover]]Adam: I stand by what I said. You just want attention.
Claire: Wow. You really know me so well, don't you.
Adam: I've met girls like you before.
Claire: You're a dick. What gives you the right to judge me? I'm happier this way. If I'm not hurting anyone, why should anyone care how much I eat?
Adam: Don't you think your friends and family will be upset when you die?
Claire: I'm not dying.
Adam: Could've fooled me.
Claire: You all just want to judge me and decide what's best for me. Please, guy I've only known for two months that I've never seen outside of class, tell me all about myself and how I'm living my life wrong. Tell me how I can fix it, even though you barely know me and have never walked a mile in my shoes.
Adam: I'm not trying to judge you.
Claire: Even if you're trying not to, you're still doing it.
For a long moment, Adam doesn't reply.
Adam: I didn't handle that well. Look, I was like you, okay? I know we don't know each other that well, but okay here's the thing. I was on a bad path in freshman and sophomore year. You know how you are with food? That's how I was with alcohol. It wasn't just college binge drinking shit, it was bad. I needed it to get through the day. It was how I coped with the bad shit. I felt this badness inside of me, and drinking was the only way to lessen the pressure inside my skull. I hated myself, but I thought I loved myself. I ended up getting my stomach pumped. I passed out in a pool of my vomit and almost died. That's fucking humiliating. Just think about what you're doing and why you're doing it. I think you can be a bitch and I'm not looking forward to working with you. But I'm an asshole and I think we are similar, we just have different vices. Just think about it. I almost killed myself, and I would've laughed all the way. And my parents would've had to put their son in the ground way too young.
1. [[Don't reply. Your situations are nothing alike.|meetup]]
2. [[Claire: Okay. I'll think about it.|concede2]]
<<if visited("debate") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 2>><</if>>Adam: So you're not going to try and defend yourself?
Claire: Why should I? I have nothing to defend. It's my body. I get to do whatever I want with it. I don't care what you think.
Adam: You sure about that?
Claire: Stop.
Adam: Don't you care what your family thinks?
Claire: What time, Adam
You agree on a time.
[[Next|meetup]]"I think you need to eat something."
"No." The mere suggestion makes your lip curl.
"Then I don't want to be your partner anymore."
"Are you serious?" You want to slap him.
"I don't want to be responsible if you faint in the middle of our lecture from fasting for five days."
"I've had a 4.0 since fifth grade."
"That 4.0 isn't going to keep you alive."
You glare at him.
1. [["Okay, then email the professor."|bluff]]
2. [["You're not blackmailing me into eating."|panic2]]Double-click this passage to edit it."Alright," he stands up. "I'll go email her now. There's no point doing anything for the project right now."
"You're a dick."
"That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said about me."
"Let me know what she says."
"Will do, honey."
[[Next|email]]"Why does the idea of eating scare you so much?"
Sick, wrong, fat, ugly.
You swallow hard.
"It doesn't scare me. It's just dickish of you to try and force me to eat."
"Do you think it's normal to react that way to food?"
"Being normal is boring."
"Don't be cute." He leans forward. "Do you feel something ugly inside of you? Does not eating make the ugliness go away, or at least tunnel deep down inside of you?"
1. [["This isn't an appropriate conversation."|evade6]]
2. [[You don't interrupt him.|adam3]]
<<if visited("panic2") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 2>>You get a message from Adam on Facebook.
Adam: The prof says we have to find people who are willing to switch with us.
Claire: I'll text my friend Holly.
It's a long shot, you know it before you send the text. And Adam doesn't have anyone in the class either, if he didn't come to the conversation with somebody to switch with.
She says she can't, she and her partner have already started.
Claire: Holly can't do it.
Adam: Sounds like we are stuck together.
1. [[Claire: We need to clear the air on this.|clearair]]
2. [[Claire: What time are you free to meet?|smoothover]]Adam: Look, I'm not going to force you to eat.
Claire: It's not like you could have forced me anyway.
Adam: Just think, though. Is it normal for someone to react the way you do to just the suggestion to eat?
Claire: Being normal is boring.
Adam: Don't be cute.
Claire: I'm happy the way I am.
Adam: Do you really think that?
Claire: You don't know anything about me.
Adam: I know more than you think.
1. [[Claire: I'm done with this conversation. When do you want to meet?|meetup]]
2. [[Claire: What does that mean?|message2]]Adam: I know we don't know each other that well, but okay here's the thing. I was on a bad path in freshman and sophomore year. You know how you are with food? That's how I was with alcohol. It wasn't just college binge drinking shit, it was bad. I needed it to get through the day. It was how I coped with the bad shit. I felt this badness inside of me, and drinking was the only way to lessen the pressure inside my skull. I hated myself, but I thought I loved myself. I ended up getting my stomach pumped. I passed out in a pool of my vomit and almost died. That's fucking humiliating. Just think about what you're doing and why you're doing it. I think you can be a bitch and I'm not looking forward to working with you. But I'm an asshole and I think we are similar, we just have different vices. Just think about it. I almost killed myself, and I would've laughed all the way. And my parents would've had to put their son in the ground way too young.
1. [[Don't reply. Your situations are nothing alike.|meetup]]
2. [[Claire: Okay. I'll think about it.|concede2]]"What, talking about food isn't appropriate?"
"That's not what you're talking about."
"Food is food. What else could I be talking about? We need food to survive."
"You know it's not that simple."
"Isn't it? The food doesn't mean anything." He pulls out a granola bar and throws it on the table. "What does this mean to you?"
You stare at it and don't reply. It looks like a snake that's about to bite you.
"It means nourishment to me. Staving off hunger until it's dinnertime. I like it because it has chocolate chips in it. It doesn't mean anything else. Eating it doesn't make me feel sick or hate myself."
"I don't hate myself."
"Then eat it."
[[Eat it, to prove him wrong.|eat]]
"By refusing to eat, it's easier to tolerate being in your own skin. It makes you feel better, even though some part of you knows it shouldn't. You're addicted to the sensation, and you don't even know what it means to be normal anymore." He takes a breath. "I get it. I had--problems. Freshman and sophomore year. Drank too much. Almost died a few times, because I was an idiot. I went from being the life of the party, to being the guy everyone prayed wouldn't show up. I made an ass of myself. I needed to drink to function, and that's a shitty way to live."
"It's not the same," you whisper.
"Maybe not exactly the same. But you use this--starving yourself--to cope with the dark parts of yourself that you can't handle otherwise. It releases some of the pressure built up in your head. I get that, I get that one hundred percent. And I almost didn't get a chance to recognize it. You're on a tipping point, Claire. You need to decide if this thing with food is under your control--or if you're under its control."
1. [["Can we just work on the project now?"|move on2]]
2. [["This is my body. Mine. No one else has the right to tell me what to do with it."|persist]]
<<if visited("adam3") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight + 1>><</if>>You pick up the granola bar. It's heavy in your hand. You can already feel it sinking inside of your stomach, the calories in the chocolate absorbing into your body, thickening your waist and thighs.
You shudder. Your fingers tremble slightly as you peel the granola bar open. You stare down at it, the little chocolate chips, the sticky sweat coating.
You want it so badly.
You can't have it.
You can't do it.
"This is ridiculous." You throw the granola bar in the trash. It hits the bottom with a satisfying thud. "We need to work on our project."
"If you say so." Adam says.
[[Next|message4]]
<<if visited("eat") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 1>><</if>>You get a message from Adam later that day.
Adam: I didn't handle that well today. Look, I was like you, okay? I know we don't know each other that well, but okay here's the thing. I was on a bad path in freshman and sophomore year. You know how you are with food? That's how I was with alcohol. It wasn't just college binge drinking shit, it was bad. I needed it to get through the day. It was how I coped with the bad shit. I felt this badness inside of me, and drinking was the only way to lessen the pressure inside my skull. I hated myself, but I thought I loved myself. I ended up getting my stomach pumped. I passed out in a pool of my vomit and almost died. That's fucking humiliating. Just think about what you're doing and why you're doing it.
1. [[Don't reply. Your situations are nothing alike.|meetup]]
2. [[Claire: Okay. I'll think about it.|concede2]]"No. And I won't tell you what to do with your body. But take a good, long, hard look at what you're doing. Think about your family. And remember how little control you really have right now."
"I'm in control."
"Are you? I doubt that. Tell me, Claire, do you want your parents to bury you?"
"I don't want to talk about this."
"Is it worth it, in the end? To throw your life away screaming into a void?"
"Let's just work on the project." You take a deep breath. "I found this article..."
Adam doesn't return to the subject. And you are relieved.
[[Next|Day4]]
<<if visited("persist") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 2>><</if>>"Okay, that's fine with me. That's what we are here for. Just...think about what I'm saying. There's a counseling center on campus. Think about talking to them. You think you're in control, but I tell ya, honey, you're not. This is a slow death, and you're the only one that can stop it."
You don't say anything to that.
You put your head down and start reading your notes out loud.
[[Next|Day4]]You meet Janet at the restaurant. She sits at a table outside. The sun is her spotlight, illuminating streaming blonde hair that floats over her narrow shoulders. People always used to stop your family on the street as children to compliment Janet's beautiful blue eyes. Your aunts would insist that she should become a child model. She never did, but she was always front and center at dance recitals.
You are dark haired, plain, coarse in comparison. She is like a swan, and you're a crane.
She smiles when she sees you. The entire world stops spinning for her. She stands and wraps you in a hug.
"It's been too long," she laughs. She even laughs perfectly, how is that a thing? "God, you look like you've lost weight. You look good."
You smile.
"Here, sit down. We have so much to catch up on."
A few minutes after you sit down, the waitress appears to take your order. You feel your nerves jangling inside of you.
"So how's school going?"
"It's good--"
"You know, I remember being a junior in college. It was so much. I was rush chair for my sorority that year. And we won homecoming! Gosh, I miss being in college."
"Oh, yeah, that's cool."
"I still think you should've joined a sorority."
You spin the ice in your glass of water with your straw.
"Are you in any clubs right now?"
"I'm in psych club and I go to debate club meetings sometimes."
"Oh, that sounds cool! I wish I'd done a psych minor. Human psychology is so interesting, you know? I love learning about how people tick. I think I would've been a good psychologist too, but you know, that wasn't my path. Hey, I don't think I told you, I got accepted into that grad program out in California."
"Oh, congratulations!"
"How are things with Derek?"
"They're good--"
"Logan and I have already started planning the wedding. I'll send you the link to the bridesmaid dress soon..." She keeps blabbering on and on and on. You don't get to squeeze in more than a few words.
1. [[You say nothing, and let her keep talking.|Janet3]]
2. [["Can I speak, please?" You snap.|fight]]You keep writing.
All day.
Through the afternoon. Into the evening. Your head feels like it is attached to a loose axis, and your brain is swinging around wildly, every direction, bouncing off the walls of your skull in a desperate bid to escape.
The edges of your body feel loose, filmy. Like you're going to dissolve into the air. Your bones are cotton candy, your skin is spun sugar. You are floating higher, higher, higher, higher, a helium balloon released into a clear summer sky. Everyone is watching you drift into the stratosphere, going to join the stars.
Suddenly everything stops. Your brain skips forward.
It is morning. Your computer is dead. Frantically, you turn the computer back on. Your paper auto-saved. You breathe a sigh of relief.
[[You can't stop now. You've broken some kind of barrier.|continue2]]You felt like you've broken the speed of light. You push your paper aside and start working on other homework.
This is everything.
Your brain keeps skipping, your consciousness bouncing along like a stone over water. The world comes sharply into focus, and then it will fade again. In the moments of pristine clarity, it all makes sense. The whole universe cascades from your fingertips.
You ignore the way your body screams. You hate the way your stomach craves food. If you eat, you will have enough weight inside of you to feel those horrible things again.
If you keep doing this, you will get to 100 pounds. You will be perfect. No one will ever be able to be critical of you again--not even yourself.
[[Next|Day4]]You've built a monument in your head to Janet over the years. She's the golden child, worthy of all the love and adoration in the world. You don't hate her, even though that would make life easier. She's a genuinely good person. She just doesn't realize how perfect she is, and sometimes that grates on you. But hate her? No, you love her with every fiber of your being.
So you let her be herself. You let her dominate the conversation. You zone out most of the time, but you nod and occasionally make small noises that make her think you know what she's talking about.
The waitress returns to take your food orders. When Janet orders, it catches you off guard.
"I'll just have the salad. No dressing, no bacon, no cheese. Just lettuce, tomato, carrots, cucumbers." She laughs, and it tinkles like broken glass hitting the floor.
After the waitress walks away, you stare at Janet across the table. She sips her water with lemon.
1. [["Are you okay, Janet?"|ask5]]
2. [[You're just imagining it. Right?|evade20]]Janet stutters into silence.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to override the conversation." She says. Her brow creases delicately. She refuses to meet your glare.
"Sure. You just do it all the time. You've asked me a million questions and then you just end up answering them for yourself."
"I really am sorry, Claire. I didn't think."
"That's weird, you should be the queen of thinking after getting into that grad program."
She stares at you, her mouth hanging open slightly.
"Are you okay, Claire?"
No. Yes. You don't know anymore.
[["I'm sorry, I've just been stressed lately."|evade10]]"Claire, I really didn't mean to make you upset." Her blue eyes are huge. A slight flush tinges her cheeks. You deflate a little bit. Even though Janet was always the incomparable, perfect princess, you don't hate her. At least, you don't think you do. She was a genuinely nice and good person. And maybe that's why she's so much more obnoxious to you, because she isn't a bad person. Maybe a little vapid or selfish sometimes, but never intentionally malicious.
"I've been--off lately. Just--off. I don't know, maybe I'm still just adjusting to school. Or I'm under too much stress or..."
You have an eating disorder.
You shove the thought away.
"I'm sorry, Janet. For snapping at you."
"No, I understand. I talk about myself too much sometimes. I get too excited about my own life and now--now I feel like a shitty sister." You think Janet is going to cry.
"It's okay, it really is."
The waitress arrives at the table before Janet can apologize again.
"Are you ladies ready to order?"
Janet scrubs at her face. You order first, to give her a chance to compose herself.
When she orders, it catches you off guard.
"I'll just have the salad. No dressing, no bacon, no cheese. Just lettuce, tomato, carrots, cucumbers." She laughs, and it tinkles like broken glass hitting the floor.
After the waitress walks away, you stare at Janet across the table. She sips her water with lemon and shifts in her chair.
1. [["Are you okay, Janet?"|confront]]
2. [[Ignore it. You're imagining things.|ignore10]]"What? I'm fine. I want to know what's up with you." Janet leans across the table and stares at you like she wants to see into the back of your skull. "Tell me about your life. About what you're up to."
"I...it's just..."
1. [["Do you have a problem with eating?"|ask]]
2. [[Tell her about your life. This isn't worth pursuing.|defer3]]Vegans and dieters and health nuts order their salads that way all the time. It's not that unusual. Besides, how could sweet, genuine Janet have the same problem you do? She couldn't possibly hate how she looks. She's perfect, beautiful.
You steer away from that topic. You tell her about Derek. She listens to you now. After a while, you both start laughing together. But it feels hollow. You feel a great looming shadow cast over your conversation. You acted like a bitch, and now Janet is skittish. You regret snapping at her.
There is a dark hole in the middle of your soul. It's deep and dark and ugly, and it makes you hate yourself. It seems to grow a little wider as you watch your sister pull away from you.
You ruin everything you touch. You're a monster, your insides spilling out everywhere because you just take up so much goddamn room.
Janet is quick to end the lunch. She wants to get away from you. You can't blame her. You want to get away from yourself too.
$weight pounds. You want to be skinnier. Maybe that will make your flaws shrink. You could finally be perfect, and you wouldn't be a bitch and snap at your sister.
[[Next|Day4]]"Claire, that's ridiculous." She pulls away from you, like you've slapped her. "What do you mean, problem with eating? I mean, I'm a bit of a health nut, so I try to cut calories when I can. It's not a problem. Why would you suggest something like that?"
She titters nervously.
You look down at your hands, folded in your lap. Janet was a dancer all the way through high school. She always had a graceful, delicate frame. Maybe she had maintained her frame the same way you had.
"I've always been jealous of you," you say.
"What? Claire, you have nothing to be jealous of! You're beautiful and skinny and smart." Janet insists. It's almost a default. She never lets any type of negativity pollute the air for long.
"You're perfect, Janet. I'm not."
"That's not how it is at all." She says. Her shoulders sag a little bit. "Honestly, Claire, I was always jealous of how skinny you were. It didn't seem like you had to try to stay that size. And now look at you! I wish I could be like you."
You aren't sure how to feel about this.
"Mom used to restrict my eating."
"Did she? I never noticed. You got so thin in middle school. Before that, you were a plump girl. But then you had the body of a ballerina and I--"
She trails off.
1. [["I'm the same as you, Janet."|confess]]
2. [[Let it slide. You don't feel like having this conversation.|evade12]]Vegans and dieters and health nuts order their salads that way all the time. It's not that unusual. Besides, how could sweet, genuine Janet have the same problem you do? She couldn't possibly hate how she looks. She's perfect, beautiful.
You steer away from that topic. You tell her about Derek. She listens to you now. After a while, you both start laughing together. But it feels hollow. You feel a great looming shadow cast over your conversation. You acted like a bitch, and now Janet is skittish. You regret snapping at her.
There is a dark hole in the middle of your soul. It's deep and dark and ugly, and it makes you hate yourself. It seems to grow a little wider as you watch your sister pull away from you.
You ruin everything you touch. You're a monster, your insides spilling out everywhere because you just take up so much goddamn room.
Janet is quick to end the lunch. She wants to get away from you. You can't blame her. You want to get away from yourself too.
$weight pounds. You want to be skinnier than that. Maybe that will make your flaws shrink. You could finally be perfect, and you wouldn't be a bitch and snap at your sister.
[[Next|Day4]]"What do you mean?" She asks.
"I'm...you know, I count calories and stuff. I weigh myself every day. I want to be--I just want to keep getting skinnier, you know?"
For a long moment, Janet says nothing.
"I don't know why we chase being skinny so much." She whispers. "TV shows, magazines, whatever, the usual stuff. And maybe mom and grandma shouldn't have said or did some of the things she did when we were kids."
1. [["Are you ashamed of it?"|debate2]]
2. [["The world made us this way."|anger5]]Vegans and dieters and health nuts order their salads that way all the time. It's not that unusual. Besides, how could sweet, genuine Janet have the same problem you do? She couldn't possibly hate how she looks. She's perfect, beautiful.
You steer away from that topic. You tell her about Derek. She listens to you now. After a while, you both start laughing together. But it feels hollow. You feel a great looming shadow cast over your conversation. You acted like a bitch, and now Janet is skittish. You regret snapping at her.
There is a dark hole in the middle of your soul. It's deep and dark and ugly, and it makes you hate yourself. It seems to grow a little wider as you watch your sister pull away from you.
You ruin everything you touch. You're a monster, your insides spilling out everywhere because you just take up so much goddamn room.
Janet is quick to end the lunch. She wants to get away from you. You can't blame her. You want to get away from yourself too.
$weight pounds. You want to be skinnier than that. Maybe that will make your flaws shrink. You could finally be perfect, and you wouldn't be a bitch and snap at your sister.
[[Next|Day4]]"What do you think? I hate it. It's humilating. Logan doesn't know. But I feel like I'm not a woman anymore. I'm so bony. My hipbones probably bruise him every time we have sex. I haven't had my period in months." She scrapes a hand through her hair. "It's wrong, and I--I need to talk to someone. But I'm so scared, Claire."
1. [["You don't have to talk to anyone. You're doing this for yourself, and no one can judge you for it."|defensive]]
2. [["If it makes you so miserable, you should talk to someone, Janet."|comfort]]"Or maybe we were always meant to be this messed up," she says. She slumps forward. Her usually perfect posture fails her. "There's something sick and dark inside of us that makes us act this way. I hate mirrors now, you know. It's like coming down from a high. And then I'm desperate for another fix."
"We are just doing this because society placed unfair expectations on us."
"I'm sure that's part of it, but it can't be all of it, or every girl ever would have a, uh, problem."
"Maybe we are just the only ones smart enough to be aware of it."
"I don't know, Claire. I just know I hate being this way. I wish...I wish none of this had ever happened to me. Don't you feel the same way?"
1. [["No. I like being this skinny."|proud]]
2. [["I don't know how to feel anymore."|honesty5]]"It's a slow suicide. It doesn't matter how you spin it. We are starving ourselves to death and for what? What is it even for?" Tears puddle in the rims of her blue, blue eyes. "My heartbeat is so unsteady now. I wake up all the time in the middle of the night to check my pulse. I passed out in the bathroom. I'm terrified I'm going to die."
You don't know what to say. You never thought about it that way.
"Do you want to die?" Janet whispers.
"No," you say. "No, I don't think so."
"We are dying every day." She fiddles with her engagement ring. "Someday, if we keep going, it'll get to the point where we can't turn back anymore."
"I don't know how to change myself."
"I know." She swallows. "I--I'm just ready to change myself. I think...I think I want to get treatment. Don't you? If you don't want to die, shouldn't we both...?"
"I'm just--not ready." You say.
"Please, get treatment with me." She stares at you with pleading eyes. "I don't think--I can do it alone."
"I'm just..." You stare at the tablecloth. "I can't do it."
Janet takes a quavering breath.
"I'm so sorry, Claire. I don't think I can do this right now." Janet stands up. "I'll go ask the hostess to find our waitress. We can get our food to go."
She walks away.
Something inside of you fractures.
[[Next|Day4]]
<<if visited("defensive") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight + 2>><</if>>"I'm not ready. This--thing--it's mine, it belongs to me. I don't want to share it. I don't want people poking around in my head, making decisions for me."
"They aren't making decisions for you. They're just...teaching you how to cope with the bad stuff in life better. They'll make your urges manageable. They don't want to take your autonomy away, though."
"You don't think they will, do you?"
"No. They're just trying to help you."
Every word that leaves your mouth burns because you're being an enormous hypocrite. But you love Janet too much to encourage her to continue following along this path. You, you're strong enough to handle it. But she isn't.
You spend the entire lunch reassuring her that she's making the right call when she dials the number for an eating disorder treatment center you find on Google.
"Will you go into treatment with me, Janet?"
"I..."
Janet reaches out and touches your hand. She gives you a soft smile.
"If I deserve to get better, little sis, so do you."
1. [["I don't know if that's true," you whisper.|confess200]]
2. [["I guess...maybe." You hedge.|evade200]]
[[Next|Day4]]
<<if visited("comfort") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 4>><</if>"You shouldn't be proud of this," Janet's eyes are about to overflow, you can see it. "We're sick, Claire. This isn't healthy. This isn't a good way to live. This shouldn't make us happy. All we are doing is killing ourselves. Slowly, the slowest suicide ever. Just because--what? Society made us hate ourselves? Because we hate ourselves so much we abuse ourselves?"
"This is what makes us happy. We aren't hurting anyone. Why does it matter?"
"But we are hurting someone--ourselves. Our family and friends. Do we want them to bury us? Is that what we want? Are we just that selfish?" Janet drops her head into her hands. "Is this just a cry for attention? I love mom and dad. They didn't raise me to hate myself. I have no reason to feel this way. I was given everything. What's wrong with me? Why am I so ungrateful?"
She takes a rasping breath. Tears like translucent pearls drip down her perfect cheekbones, cutting a line through her foundation.
""My heartbeat is so unsteady now. I wake up all the time in the middle of the night to check my pulse. I passed out in the bathroom. I'm terrified I'm going to die."
Are you terrified of dying? Your heartbeat feels so weak now. But does it scare you, the same way it scares Janet?
"I'm so sorry, Claire. I don't think I can do this right now." Janet stands up. "I'll go ask the hostess to find our waitress. We can get our food to go."
She walks away.
[[Next|Day4]]
<<if visited("proud") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight + 1>><</if>>"I hate myself. I've fucked my body up. I don't know if I'll even be able to have kids anymore. They say this can ruin your reproductive system." Janet's voice spirals into a panicked pitch. "Logan wants kids so bad."
"If you're that scared, Janet, then go to the doctor and make sure everything is okay."
"But if I go to the doctor for that, they'll figure it out. They'll see through me, Claire. And I don't know if I'm ready..."
You have struggled with this for years. And now you know your sister has struggled too. It's never bothered you to be this way, at least not as much as it seems to bother Janet.
You hate seeing Janet crumble like this. She's supposed to be perfect, and the golden monument you built to her in your head has started to fall around your ears. You don't want to see her suffer this way.
So you're a hypocrite. You know you won't get help anytime soon. But you tell her,
"You should see someone. You need to talk to someone, Janet. Get into a treatment program." Where they'll treat you like a baby who can't make their own choices. But you don't say that. Janet wouldn't mind being babied. You would.
"You really think so?" She sniffs. She dabs delicately at her eyes with her napkin.
"Yes, I do."
You spend the entire lunch reassuring her that she's making the right call when she dials the number for an eating disorder treatment center you find on Google.
She makes you keep the number too. But you doubt you'll be using it anytime soon.
[[Next|Day4]]
<<set $weight to $weight - 3>>"What? Of course I'm okay. I'm fantastic, actually!" She titters. The ice clinks in her glass as she takes a dainty sip.
"It's just...well..."
1. [["Do you have a problem with eating?"|ask6]]
2. [[You're imagining things. Janet couldn't have a problem like you. She's too perfect.|evade20]]Vegans and dieters and health nuts order their salads that way all the time. It's not that unusual. Besides, how could sweet, genuine Janet have the same problem you do? She couldn't possibly hate how she looks. She's perfect, beautiful.
You steer away from that topic. You tell her about your classes. She listens to you now. After a while, you both start laughing together. The lunch is pleasant and short.
She hugs you. You feel like you're hugging yourself. She's so bony and thin. Like you.
"Take care of yourself, Claire. I'll be in touch."
You go back to your apartment, and you're not sure what to think.
You find a message from Adam waiting for you on Facebook.
<<if $AdamFriend is true>>Adam: Do you want to go with me to the shelter today?
1. [[Claire: Sure. What time?|shelter25]]
2. [[Claire: Sorry, I'm busy today.|continue]]
<<elseif $AdamFriend is false>>Adam: Do you want to work on our project today?
1. [[Claire: Sure. What time?|control23.2]]
2. [[Claire: Sorry, I'm busy today.|continue]]<</if>>
"Claire, that's ridiculous." She pulls away from you, like you've slapped her. "What do you mean, problem with eating? I mean, I'm a bit of a health nut, so I try to cut calories when I can. It's not a problem. Why would you suggest something like that?"
She titters nervously.
You look down at your hands, folded in your lap. Janet was a dancer all the way through high school. She always had a graceful, delicate frame. Maybe she had maintained her frame the same way you had.
"I've always been jealous of you," you say.
"What? Claire, you have nothing to be jealous of! You're beautiful and skinny and smart." Janet insists. It's almost a default. She never lets any type of negativity pollute the air for long.
"You're perfect, Janet. I'm not."
"That's not how it is at all." She says. Her shoulders sag a little bit. "Honestly, Claire, I was always jealous of how skinny you were. It didn't seem like you had to try to stay that size. And now look at you! I wish I could be like you."
You aren't sure how to feel about this.
"Mom used to restrict my eating."
"Did she? I never noticed. You got so thin in middle school. Before that, you were a plump girl. But then you had the body of a ballerina and I--"
She trails off.
[["I'm the same as you, Janet."|confess]]You don't miss the way Jess glances at you when you take a bite of your pizza. It's rotten on your tongue, tastes like moldy cheese and old tomatoes.
Wait until Jess looks away. Then you bring your napkin to your mouth and discreetly spit the pizza out.
You and Jess talk throughout the movie. It's okay, some lame exorcism movie from a few years ago. The horror genre had taken a blow with the emergence of torture porn, and you prefer the classics any day over lame gore flicks.
You share this opinion with Jess. She nods in agreement.
"But you gotta admit, sometimes the gore and stuff serves a point. Remember that scene in Drag Me To Hell when she vomits everywhere? That's gross, but it served a point." Jess pauses. You don't like where this is going. "Did you know some people think Drag Me To Hell is about the main character suffering with an eating disorder? That she kills herself at the end by jumping in front of a train, doesn't actually go to hell, because she can't stand living that way anymore?"
"Yeah, and The Babadook got tagged as an LGBT film and now he's a gay icon. The Internet always says weird things about horror movies." You say, trying to brush it off.
"Look, Claire--did you want to talk about it?" She ignores what you said about The Babadook. Jess is a lot of things, but she doesn't know how to give up when she's caught onto something.
1. [["I'm fine, Jess. Really. You don't have to worry about me."|lie15]]
2. [["I'm just working through something. I really don't appreciate you prying into my private life."|deflect]]"Everyone else buys into your act, but I won't, Claire," Jess shakes her head vehemently. "Yeah, you've got good grades, you still do your club meetings, everyone thinks you're fine. Hell, some of them think you look good. But I know the warning signs. My sister had an eating disorder. I see it happening to you, and I can't just--let it go."
1. [["You're seeing things that aren't there. I'm fine, Jess! I'm sorry I scared you."|lie16]]
2. [["Just leave me alone. This is none of your business."|confrontational16]]
<<if $Jess > 5>>3. [["I think I have a problem."|admission25]]<</if>>
<<if visited("lie15") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight + 1>><</if>>Jess glares at you silently.
"I've been really anxious lately, okay, and this is how I cope with it. I promise, nothing bad is going to happen. I'm in control of this. It's just a...a phase."
"A phase? Shit like this isn't a phase. It has you by the balls and you need to acknowledge that. This isn't going to go anywhere good."
1. [["You have no right to judge me. I can do whatever I want, you're not my mother."|defensive20]]
2. [["Can we please not talk about this? I'm not up for it right now."|panic20]]
<<if visited("deflect") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 1>><</if>>Jess shook her head. "You're a terrible liar, Claire."
"I'm honestly fine. Seriously. I'm sorry if I frightened you. I've just had an anxious semester, you know? Remember, I lost fifteen pounds freshman year because I was so nervous all the time? I'm sorry that I made you upset."
"Stop apologizing."
"I don't know what else to say."
"You have a problem."
"No, I don't. It's not a problem. I've just got some disordered eating patterns from anxiety. I just need to adjust and level out."
"That's not what this is."
1. [["This has been a hard semester. I know it's not healthy, but I'm figuring it out."|lie17]]
2. [["You don't know what you're talking about, Jess."|confrontational16]]
<<if visited("lie16") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 1>><</if>>"No, I'm not. And I won't tell her about any of this, because I'm not like that. But I'm your roommate and your friend, and I won't just sit and watch you self-destruct. You have everyone else fooled, Claire, but I see through it."
"I'm not hurting anyone." You say.
"Except yourself! Jesus, Claire, are you listening to yourself?"
"I can work through this by myself. I don't need to be locked up." You stand up, the blanket falling around your feet. "I can't be locked up. I need to finish school. I need to get a 4.0 to get into good grad programs. I have to go to grad school and make something of my life. And I can't if I'm in a treatment center being treated like a whiny little girl who's desperate for attention. That's not who I am, Jess. I don't want the attention. I just want to be left alone. I want people to like me."
"We love you, Claire," You can hear Jess' heart breaking in her voice. "No matter what happens to you. If you don't get a 4.0 or wear a size 200--you have people here that love you."
"You don't get it." You feel the darkness moving through you, heavy and horrible and insidious. "No one gets it. I'm not a good person. And everyone can see it."
"You are a good person, Claire. What are you talking about?"
"Stop talking down to me!"
"I'm not trying to talk down to you--"
1. [[Go to your room. You can't handle this conversation right now.|hide]]
2. [["Please, stop trying to tell me how to feel about myself and what I should do with my body."|argue20]]
<<if visited("defensive20") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 1>><</if>>"When will we talk about it? You have to talk about it eventually. This isn't something you can keep brushing aside--"
"You don't understand. I have it under control. Okay? I'm fine. I really am." Your breathing comes harsh and fast. "Please, I don't want to talk about this--"
"No! We have to! You're dying, Claire. A slow, painful death that's going to hurt everyone you love."
"Please, Jess." Your lungs strain against your ribcage, about to crack you open and make everything ooze out. "Stop, stop, stop!"
"You're supposed to be smart, Claire. You have a 4.0, you're involved in the community, you have friends and everyone likes you. Hell, you're probably going to be our valedictorian. And you still don't understand what you're doing to yourself. Do you know the statistics about eating disorders?"
"Stop! Leave me alone!" You curl up on the couch and put your hands over your ears. Like a frightened child in the face of a thunderstorm.
"It has the highest mortality rate of any mental illness. Do you understand that? You're going to be a statistic."
You're sobbing.
Jess stops talking.
[[Go to your room. You can't handle this conversation right now.|hide]]
<<if visited("panic20") is 1>><<set $Jess to $Jess + 2>><</if>>"Claire, where are you going?"
You move past her, your hands trembling violently as you reach out to brace yourself on the wall.
"Claire, we aren't done with this conversation--"
"I'm done with it, Jess. I can't do this right now. Not with you." Tears burn your eyes. "I'm sorry. I can't do this. I'm sorry."
You stumble into your room and close the door. You slide to the floor, hating yourself a little bit more. You're pushing Jess away. You're desperate for someone to help you, but as soon as a way out is presented to you, you back away and run in the other direction. You don't know why you're like this. But you always go back into the arms of the disorder, because it's safe and you know you'll be accepted there.
If you get help, they'll have to drag all sorts of ugly things out of you. Things you aren't willing to confront. They'll dig into the darkest parts of you, violating you, going where you don't want them to, and they'll tear it all out into the open and force you to look at it.
And you can't do that. You aren't strong enough. You're weak and small and stupid, and the eating disorder is all you have.
You're a broken porcelain doll, with skin that could crumble away at any moment and reveal the hollowness beneath.
Jess knocks on the door.
"Please, Claire, let me help you. Let us help you."
1. [[Ignore her.|ignore20]]
2. [["I don't know how to let you guys help me."|admit20]]"I'm not trying to tell you how to feel. But I think you need a little extra help sorting through your feelings. You won't be locked away. These people really want to help you." Jess argues.
"They want to help me by rooting around in my brain. They'll judge me and put me in a neat little box and act like they know who I am when they don't know anything at all." You pull at the edges of your fingernails and refuse to meet her gaze.
"That's not how it is, Claire. You know that, you've taken psych classes. Your aunt is a psychiatrist. You know better."
"Everyone just wants me to feel bad about myself, but this is the happiest I've ever been. I'm getting good grades. People like me. I'm happy. I think everyone else is just jealous."
"This isn't a healthy way to be happy."
"How do you know?"
"My sister had an eating disorder. She almost died."
You stutter into silence.
1. [["I'm sorry."|admission]]
2. [["I promise you, I have this under control. That won't happen to me. I'll be okay."|lie21]]Jess knocks on the door, over and over, trying to talk to you, trying to get you to listen. She stays outside your door for a long time, you don't know how long.
But eventually, she stops talking. She still stays outside your door, like an abandoned puppy waiting to be let in. But you can't stand up. You can't open the door.
It would hurt too much. It's easier to hide.
She finally gives up and walks away.
Part of you is relieved. Maybe she'll stop judging you and let you do this. And part of you sinks deeper into darkness, because you know you've just damaged your friendship with someone who means a lot to you.
But you can't stop being this way. You're too scared to look into the mirror, actually look, and see who you've become.
So you keep the door closed.
[[Next|Day4]]
<<if visited("ignore20") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 2>><<set $Jess to $Jess - 1>><</if>>"I know, and I know you're scared," Jess whispers. "I haven't been through what you've been through. I don't know what it's like, not from firsthand experience anyway. But I saw what happened to my sister. I will never presume to understand the demons you fight. But you're my friend, and I want you to be healthy and happy."
Your heart shudders in your chest. Tears ooze down your cheeks, like pus leaking out of an infected wound.
"I have some information, contacts, if you want them."
"I promise, I'll think about it," you swallow hard. "It's just--it's too much right now."
"I know." Jess sighs.
"But I know--I know you're here for me. And I appreciate that."
"Love you."
"Love you too, Jess."
You hear Jess get up and walk away. Some of the tension eases in your chest. It would be easier to just walk back into the arms of the disorder, to not face the ugliness that swells in your chest like a tumor. It hurts too much to confront the shadowy corners of your heart, and that's what recovery would mean.
It would be safer, easier, softer to clutch your disorder with both hands, using it to shield you from the bad things.
You'll think about it. You promised Jess you would.
You promised.
[[Next|Day4]]
<<if visited("admit20") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight + 1>><<set $Jess to $Jess + 2>><</if>>Jess stares at you with red-rimmed eyes.
"Just promise me you'll think about getting treatment. In the end, I can't make the call for you. You have to make the choice on your own. And I want you to know that you have people here to love and support you. But I can't watch this happen all over again."
She gets up and goes to her room. You stare at the screen as a demon leaps into a young girl's body.
[[Next|Day4]]
<<if visited("admissioon") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 1>><<set $Jess to $Jess + 1>><</if>>"You're lying to yourself, Claire. You don't have this under control. No one ever has something like this 'under control.'"
"I'm not stupid. I have a 4.0, I can handle it."
"Well, Miss 4.0, do you know the statistics on eating disorders? How many people die from it? The health complications? This is a lifelong problem. You don't get to just come back from this. Your heart is going to be messed up. Years will be taken off your life because of it. Eating disorders have the highest mortality rate of any mental illness, you know that?"
"I'm not going to be another statistic."
"Claire, please, just tell me you'll consider getting treatment."
1. [["I'll think about it."|doubtful]]
2. [[Don't say anything.|lostcause]]"This is your choice, Claire. I won't tell anyone. The treatment will only work if you make the decision for yourself. But I just need you to know that I love you. Eliza loves you. Your mom and dad and brother and sister love you. They won't look down on you for getting treatment." Jess looks down at the cold piece of pizza in your lap. "I know it's more than food. It's so much more than that. I'm here, if you need to talk to someone."
You don't know how to feel about this. You feel exposed and vulnerable. Jess knows what's wrong with you--and she's judging you for it. You hate her for asking you to consider treatment, because you are in control, no matter what she thinks or anyone else says.
Yet you don't completely dismiss everything she said to you. Some part of you clings to what she said--that she'll love you no matter what--and holds onto it for dear life as you watch the demon get exorcised from the young girl's body on the screen.
[[Next|Day4]]
<<if visited("doubtful") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight + 1>><<set $Jess to $Jess + 1>><</if>>Jess stares at you pleadingly. When you don't reply, she sighs heavily and turns her attention back to the TV.
"I'll always be here for you, Claire. I have information, if you want it. It's your choice, it's always your choice." She sniffs. "But I don't know how long I can watch you self-destruct."
Part of you feels like a bitch for leaving Claire hanging. But you know yourself. You know you're in control.
Honestly, part of you is just relieved she finally let the issue drop.
Halfway through the movie, however, Jess gets up and goes to her room. She closes the door. You stare at the closed door. And then you turn back to the movie as a demon swoops into a young girl's body.
[[Next|Day4]]
<<if visited("lostcause") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 2>><</if>>Jess sighs. She scrubs at her face. On the screen, a demon possesses a young girl and her eyes glow red.
"Claire, you're one of my best friends. And I'm not stupid. I know when something is wrong. You can't lie to me."
1. [["I'm not lying to you, Jess."|lie18]]
2. [["Stop pushing me, Jess. This is none of your business."|confrontational16]]
<<if visited("lie17") is 1>><<set $Jess to $Jess + 2>><</if>>"You're my friend and I care about you," Jess says. "And I see you going down a bad path right now, and I want you to be okay."
"I am okay, that's the thing." Anger crests in your rib cage. "I am just doing this to myself. I'm not hurting anyone else. And it just pisses me off that society tells me I'm not good enough, and then when I turn around and try to fix myself, they say I'm doing it wrong. You're supposed to be my friend, Jess. You aren't supposed to judge me like everyone else."
"I get it. This thing is in you deep."
"Don't talk about it like you understand it."
"Okay, I don't understand it. And I'm not trying to presume to know the demons you fight. But I've seen someone close to me go down this path, and it's not pretty. You're a smart cookie, Claire. You understand statistics and data. Eating disorders have high mortality rates--and comorbidity rates with depression and anxiety. You get it, and you should know that you'll die if you keep doing this to yourself."
1. [["Stop treating me like a little kid."|confrontational17]]
2. [["I know you're trying to help me, Jess, but this isn't a conversation I want to have right now."|panic20]]
<<if visited("confrontational16") is 1>><<set $Jess to $Jess - 1>><</if>>"Claire, I really think you need help."
A demon groans on screen.
That word. The "h" word. The magic word that'll make everything better.
If you get "help," they'll have to drag all sorts of ugly things out of you. Things you aren't willing to confront. They'll dig into the darkest parts of you, violating you, going where you don't want them to, and they'll tear it all out into the open and force you to look at it.
And you can't do that. You aren't strong enough. You're weak and small and stupid, and the eating disorder is all you have.
You're a broken porcelain doll, with skin that could crumble away at any moment and reveal the hollowness beneath.
You don't want to make yourself vulnerable to scrutiny. It's easier to live tucked away in this world, in this life.
1. [["I don't need help. I know you're trying to help me and I appreciate it. But I'm okay. Can we just go back to watching the movie?"|lie19]]
2. [["I know you're my friend, Jess, but this is too much. Stop prying into my private life like this."|confrontational16]]
<<if visited("lie18") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 1>><</if>>Jess slumps back into the loveset, defeated.
The demon growls and sweeps into a young girl's body on screen.
You refuse to look at her. You stare down at the oozing piece of pizza in your lap, the single bite secretly folded into your napkin.
You watch the rest of the movie in silence.
As the credits roll, Jess stands up.
"I'm here for you, you know. You're not alone. I love you, no matter what."
She turns and walks into her bedroom. Closes the door.
You stare at it. Glance at the pizza in front of you.
Back at the door.
You get up and go into your bedroom.
[[Next|Day4]]
<<if visited("lie19") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 1>><</if>>"I'll only treat you like a little kid because you need me to."
"I'm not some poor little white girl begging for attention by starving herself. And that's exactly what everyone will think if I go into treatment. I made this choice. This is how I want to be, and as long as I don't hurt anybody else, why does it matter?"
The demon on screen growls and screams, trying to find someone to possess.
"You'll be hurting your friends and family if you do this, Claire. Don't you see that?"
"I'm not hurting anyone!"
"You're being selfish!"
"Stop judging me. You don't get it. No one does. There's terrible things inside of me, and I can only handle them by doing this. It's a coping mechanism, like running or painting or journaling. This is how I handle stress. Maybe it's not healthy, but neither is smoking and people still do it all the time."
Jess takes a breath.
"I'm not trying to judge you, okay. And I'm not trying to teach you like a little kid. But I really think you need to consider treatment--"
"What, so they can pick through my brain and decide who I am and shuttle me off to a treatment center for hours of mind numbing therapy?" You shoot to your feet, pushing the blanket away. "I can't get locked away, Jess! I need to finish school on time. I need to get a 4.0. I need to get into good programs. I need to make something of my life!"
"I'm not asking you to put your life on hold. You just need to learn to cope better."
"Don't take the choice away from me."
Jess blinks. She slumps back in the loveseat.
"I know." She looks down at the floor. "My sister had an eating disorder. She died from it."
A kaledeiscope of emotions twists through your brain. You feel dizzy.
"All I'm saying," Jess whispers. "Is to just consider treatment. Okay? I have contacts. I have information. I'm no good at talking to you about this. But...I'm here. I'm here."
She gets up and goes into her room. You don't feel like humoring her, so you go to your bedroom too. The movie is left playing in the living room. You can hear the demon screaming through the thin walls.
[[Next|Day4]]
<<if visited("confrontational17") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 3>><<set $Jess to $Jess - 2>><</if>>The numbers on the scale keep sliding down, down, down.
You don't think the number will ever be low enough. Everyone tries to tear your armor away, expose you to the harsh sunlight and make you witness your ugliness. But you fight them off, clinging to the leg of your disorder like a scared child in the mall.
You don't want to recover. That's an ugly word--it means gaining weight, being fat, becoming the ugly, squalling, fleshy thing that they want you to be. They would treat you like an infant, shoving food in your mouth. They would praise you for gaining weight, so you don't tell anyone.
Some day, you think, your body will adapt. Mind over matter. Your body will learn not to want or need food. You will evolve to another place.
Be better than everyone.
Be too perfect to criticize.
The disorder is like your Romeo, romancing you from the balcony while your family tries to pull you away from him. They tell you your love is wrong, but they just don't understand. He whispers into your ear at night that you could be perfect. If you just keep going back to him.
You will always go back.
Always.
[[END|Introduction]]You have become so light that you think you are going to float away. A balloon accidentally released by a young hand, drifting up into the stars.
Your friends tell you that you need to get help. They just don't understand. Your disorder--if that's what they keep wanting to call it--is like a diamond, and they just view it edge by pointy edge. They are too scared to witness the brilliance of it, take a step back and see that everything is worthwhile.
Yet, as the numbers continue to descend, down, down, down, like a ladder to hell, some niggling part of you desperately wants to hit the brake. To stop. To go back, because this is further than you ever thought this could go.
You aren't sure you can go back.
You aren't sure you even want to.
It hurts to feel your heart beat.
[[END|Introduction]]
You know you are broken. You feel the giant fault line down the center of your body, separating you into two halves--one is pulsing, alive, and full of light and the other is cold, withering like a flower at the end of summer. You love yourself, you hate yourself. Half of you is already dead, but the other half continues to flourish.
The scary thing is, you know you would be happier if you completely succumbed to your disorder. But you don't want to disappoint your friends and family, and you are terrified of being locked up in a treatment center before you graduate from college. You want to hold onto a normal life for as long as possible.
Do you want to be normal? No. But you know it's what you're supposed to do.
So you negotiate your diet. You try to keep your weight from dipping too low, don't use fasting days much, and keep up "normal" eating habits in front of your friends and family. Part of you still clings to the disorder, leaning on it like a crutch, not quite ready to let it go. You still count calories, weigh yourself every day, feel that darkness shifting through you.
Maybe one day you'll get treatment. Then again, maybe you won't. You can pretend. Walk that fine line, always being half-dead and half-alive.
You'll never be whole. But for now, your family, your friends, your boyfriend, have to be enough to anchor you to a skin you don't think you'll ever feel comfortable in.
[[END|Introduction]]You are a ghost. Except, you are still visible to everyone. You straddle a strange line, walking a tightrope over a deep, dark void. You want to cross to the other side of the abyss, head towards a meadow that's full of sunshine and smells like flowers. But every time you look into the abyss, you see your friends and your family--and you wonder if the abyss is not as deadly as you think it is.
So you stand there, struggling, not sure where to go. You're only half in the real world most of the time. You struggle to maintain a shell of normlacy. You can see the light fading from your friends' eyes as you struggle to pretend.
You want to jump into the abyss. For them.
But you're scared. You don't know what you'll be without the disorder. It holds you steady on the rope, fills the air with a sweet perfume that makes you dizzy and giggly.
You aren't sure where you belong anymore. You tip, one way then another, unsteady. Unsure. Should you get treatment? You don't want to. You're scared.
You walk across the tight rope. But going forward suddenly feels a lot like going backwards.
[[END|Introduction]]What does it mean to be normal? It seems like a construct built by other people, a neat compartment you are meant to fit into because it is too scary to fall outside of the lines.
You do not think you would be considered 'normal.' But you are obsessed with the idea of being normal, whatever that means. At first, as the numbers on the scale went down, lower, lower than ever before, you try to wear a shell of normalcy, because you want to make your friends and family happy, because you dont want people to judge you, because you don't want to get locked up in some facility center and never see the light of day again.
You watch the numbers on the scale go lower.
You want to try to be normal. For them. But you feel your grasp on normal slipping a little more each day. It scares you and it exhilirates you. Maybe you aren't supposed to be normal. Maybe you're supposed to give in.
You should get treatment. You think you should, anyway.
But you are dangling on a precipice, going too far, too fast. Beyond redemption. You aren't sure you mind, not anymore.
You know you should want to get better. And when you think about your family and friends, you wonder if you've chosen the right path. You've gone further than you ever thought you would. It wasn't supposed to be like this.
But it seemed too painful to turn back and let the fat build on your body again. You'd want to cut it off, whittle yourself down to be perfect again.
You're addicted to the rush. You hate yourself and you love yourself. You could go lower. You can always go lower, because it won't ever be enough.
You need to get treatment. But you don't think you're ready yet.
[[END|Introduction]]You are still learning to walk again.
That's how you think of it. The eating disorder was like a hand extended out to guide you. Cool and smooth, an enticing voice in your ear whispering that you would only be perfect if you followed them into darkness.
You are still trying to get out of the darkness. Even if you can't walk, you will crawl, inch by inch, pulling yourself out of the woods.
You feel a little less lost now. The people at the treatment center are like monsters under the bed sometimes, scaring you, making you cry with what they ask of you. And sometimes, they are your salvation, the ones shining a light that you can follow, the ones trying to pick you up.
You scream at them. You hug them. You push them away. You desperately ask them not to give up on you.
The disorder still lurks behind you, ready to snatch you back up if you falter. To drag you back down, down, down.
The numbers on the scale go up, and you hate yourself. Your body is ugly but it is yours, and you are learning to like it. Maybe, someday, you can love it. But slowly, you are learning that perhaps, most important of all, that that weight you've always hated, the feeling of being anchored to the earth, is something you should actually appreciate. Because it means you are alive and human. It means you still have a pulse. And if you have a pulse, you can still laugh at Eliza's jokes, and hug your mom, and kiss your boyfriend, and read your cheesy romance novels, and watch your favorite horror movies.
It means you are alive.
And that, sometimes, is enough.
[[END|Introduction]]You throw yourself into recovery. You tear yourself out of the arms of the disorder, even though it keeps grabbing at you, pulling at the fat building around your stomach and thighs and hips and chest and telling you what a pig you are, that you could be perfect again if you just came back to it, you are ugly and no one will ever love you--
You force yourself to ignore that sweet voice. It would be so easy to go back to your disorder, where you feel safe and whole and loved.
But you know if you do go back, your weight will tick down, down, down, like an atomic bomb. And when it finally detonated, you wouldn't be the only one hurt.
You remind yourself of that everyday. On the hard days, when you question your decision to go into treatment, you close your eyes and touch your new body. It's ugly to you, still, and you hope desperately that you can learn to love it someday. You touch your ribcage, the rib bones sinking under a healthy layer of fat, your hip bones not as prominent anymore, your collarbones that have receded a little bit. You remind yourself that the heavy top layer of skin is a good thing. That it means you're alive. You can still see your mother's smile and smell her perfume, you can still hug your sister and Jess and Eliza, you can still kiss your boyfriend, you can still joke with your dad and your brother.
Maybe you don't feel whole, not quite yet. But you are getting there, everyday. And that has to be enough.
[[END|Introduction]]He said he couldn't handle your mood swings anymore. That disastrous dinner had been the final straw.
You clawed back at him. Told him he was mean to you, constantly judging you for your weight, trying to make you change and be someone you weren't.
It was awful and messy and nasty. You ripped into him, and he snapped back at you. You left his apartment in tears.
Eliza and Jess had never thought highly of Derek, and they were relieved you had broken up with him. They told you what a loser he was, that he just partied, partied, partied all the time with his frat brothers and didn't care about his future, not like you did. So you were better off without him.
You agreed with them. Maybe he was always just jealous of you. In middle school and high school, the boys had always been intimidated by how smart you were. You thought Derek was more mature than that, but apparently [[he wasn't.|Day3]]
<<set $Derekbreakup to true>>Leaves crunch under your boot as you walk Somers and Boston to the entrance of a residential neighborhood about ten minutes away from the shelter. You walk along a bike path, both dogs zooming ahead. Somers' whip thin white tail is a blur in the crisp autumn air. She glances back at you every so often, tugging at her leash with small wheezing sounds.
Boston is more sedate, his majestic gold hair blowing around his smooshed face. He's a King Charles Cavalier spaniel, absolutely gorgeous, but too vain for his own good. He likes to stop and pose like a model when you're paying too much attention to him, between sprinting through the grass if he thinks no one is watching. Boston has been at the shelter for about two months now, but you think he will get adopted soon.
When you reach the entrance to the residential area, you stop and turn your face up towards the sun. The bells on the dogs' collars jingle as they continue to pace over the bike path. You hear their little noses sniffing at the grass, sorting through interesting scents.
1. [["Alright, guys, let's go back."]]
2. [["I wish I could be as happy as you guys."]]
<<if visited("Somers") is 1>><<set $Somers to true>><<set $weight to $weight + 1>><</if>>Cars zoom by on the highway parallel to you. Boston's hair billows as he trots ahead, sunlight glinting in his blond locks. Somers sticks close to your feet, her toenails clicking against the pavement. You walk in silence, the sun beating down on your head. Your heart beats unevenly in your chest, like a baby bird learning to use her wings. You stop halfway down the bike path, breathing much heavier than you should be. You feel winded. How are you winded after a fifteen minute walk?
Somers paws at your sneakers. You glance down at her. She cocks her head, examining your face intently.
1. [["I'm okay, just a little winded."|winded]]
2. [["It's pathetic that I can't even walk fifteen minutes now without being tired."|selfdeprecating]]Sunlight glints over Boston's glistening fur. Somers bites at her tail, apparently having forgotten that it's part of her body.
"You don't care at all what other people think of you," you stare at the two dogs. They quickly snap their eyes towards your face. Somers cocks her head to one side. You convince yourself they're listening to you. You turn and start leading the dogs back to the shelter. "You don't have any weird thoughts yourself. Or try to starve yourself into a skeleton."
Although Boston trots ahead, Somers dances around your feet and continues to stare up at you. You smile and reach down to pet her as you walk.
"I know what I'm doing," you whisper. "I know how I'm hurting the people around me. But I just can't stop. It's just--I have these terrible thoughts. About myself. I hear these voices whispering that I'm not good enough, and I'll only be worth love if I can get the numbers on the scale to go down. I've heard all the lectures, read all the articles online--I know I'm perfect and I should love myself and blah blah blah. It's easy to say shit like that when you haven't been through it, you know."
Somers' little face quivers.
"I'm just--broken. And I know no one will ever want me," you stop in the middle of the bike path. Tears suddenly well in your eyes. Boston turns and eyes you up and down. Your heart beats unevenly in your chest, like a baby bird trying to figure out her wings.
Somers jumps up and paws at your thigh. You reach down and pick her up. She licks at your face.
You need to talk to your mom. Your apartment doesn't allow pets, but you'll drive home every weekend if it means you get to see Somers.
"You're my new therapist," you say. Boston huffs and sits down in the middle of the bike path, staring at the offender who has taken his spot in your arms. "Oh, don't be such a butt. Come on, Boston."
You walk with the dogs [[back to the shelter.|shelter]]
<<if visited("I wish I could be as happy as you guys.") is 1>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem + 2>><<set $happiness to $happiness + 1>><</if>>You manage to walk a few more dogs before you realize you're running out of time and need to change the newspaper out still.
While you're in the process of playing tug of war with Alfred, who insists on playtime before you can take his newspaper, you hear the door open at the front of the room. It must be Alex. You haven't worked with her much, but you know she's been a volunteer for a couple of years.
Alfred manages to snatch the chew toy out of your hand.
"You're so much stronger than me, Al," you pet the top of his head. He has a cone on right now, post-surgery. It makes taking him on walks difficult. He tends to forget about his cone as he sniffs the ground and ends up scooping up dirt when he lifts his head. "Don't worry, the cone of shame will be off soon."
You rise into a half crouch and back into the door of the cage, snatching the newspaper before Alfred can give you more sass. You smile to yourself as you ball up the old newspaper and throw it into the garbage bin.
"I've taken everyone on this half of the room for a walk." You call to Alex. "But I just need to switch out a few more newspapers."
You walk around to the front of the room. Instead of Alex, there's a tall guy with a baseball hat pulled low over his face crouching in front of Somers' cage. She is clambering for his attention. He's familiar to you--you have some classes together. His name is Adam, you think. He's quiet and sometimes falls asleep during lecture. You're not sure what to make of him.
[["Uh, hi, can I help you?"]]Boston chuffs, clearly not believing you. He seems unimpressed. You bite your lower lip and start walking again. You still need to take at least a few more dogs for walks before you leave.
You take a few deep breaths, but they scrape your insides like razor blades. You know it shouldn't be this difficult to just take a brisk walk.
Maybe you need to start exercising more, build up your stamina.
You sigh and get the dogs back to the [[shelter.|shelter]]Boston barks, a surprisingly deep sound for such a small dog. Somers stretches her back paws, peering at your face intently.
"Don't you guys know? I'm sick," you laugh, and its like listening to glass break. "I might not be able to take you guys for walks much longer."
Somers yips.
"What, are you trying to tell me I'm perfect and beautiful like all the magazines? Give me a support hotline to call in case I need help?" You shake your head. "I'm sorry, Somers. It's too late for me. But I'm glad you'll miss me when I'm gone."
You take a breath. You won't talk about these depressing things anymore. Being at the shelter for the first time in a while, it makes you happier than you've been in ages. You don't want to ruin it.
You walk in silence back to the [[shelter.|shelter]]
<<if visited("selfdepcreating") is 1>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem - 1>><<set $happiness to $happiness - 1>><</if>>"Miranda called and said she needed someone to come in and replace you. You're Claire, right?" He doesn't look up from petting Somers. You're a little jealous--you've never seen Somers get so excited to see someone, other than you.
"Yeah...um, I didn't know you volunteered here."
"I just started."
"Do you need me to show you what to do?"
"No. I worked at an animal shelter before." He stands, and you're struck by how tall he is. You never see him outside of class. "You can go if you need to."
Somers barks when she hears that you might have to leave. You look around at the other dogs in the kennels you haven't gotten to yet. Adam doesn't know them like you do. And he said he was new. How can you know he'll do a good job?
1. [[Skip class and stay to help walk the rest of the dogs.|skipclass]]
2. [[Adam should know what he's doing, if Miranda called him in to replace you. You need to go to class.|leave20]]Adam crouches down in front of Brutus' kennel. Brutus, an older male bichon, disliked men--and pretty much everyone else, except Jaime, who he barely tolerated. You had heard Miranda talking to Jaime one day, that they might have to put him down because he was too aggressive to be adopted.
"Most of them are puppy mill rescues. They all have, uh, quirks." You take a step back into the shelter. Another. You can't believe you're doing this. Skipping clas.
But then you lock eyes with Somers. And you smile, because this is the only thing that makes you truly happy anymore.
"Miranda and her wife, Jaime, go to auctions all the time to buy as many dogs as they can," you explain. "I went with them one time. I'll remember it for the rest of my life. After I went to the auction, I [[changed my major]] from business to biology, with a pre-vet emphasis."
"I'm pre-vet too." Adam says. You're surprised. You hadn't met many people who were pre-vet like you. "I'm not as smart as you though. I'll be lucky to get into a decent program after college."
"We can study together sometime. If you want." You're blushing. Why are you blushing? "Jaime and Miranda have connections too. They're one of the more well known puppy mill rescues in this part of the state."
"My mom is one of the vets that works for them."
[["Oh, I didn't know that."]]
<<if visited("skipclass") is 1>><<set $scholarship to $scholarship - 2>><<set $Adam to $Adam + 2>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem + 1>><<set $AdamFriend to true>><</if>>"Okay, well, you can call Miranda if you need anything." You crouch down and pet Somers. You feel a little territorial. You're Somers' favorite, not Adam. He's walking over to the kennels on the other side of the room. Brutus, an aggressive male bichon that only tolerates Jaime in his cage, starts growling when Adam gets too close. Brutus really hates men.
Adam crouches down in front of his cage. Brutus' snarls intensify, like thunder spilling from his mouth.
"You should leave Brutus alone. He doesn't like anyone, and he really hates men." You say.
"What's his story?"
1. [["You can ask Miranda, I really have to go."|leave21]]
2. [["He's a puppy mill rescue. They used him for breeding."|stay20]]"Most of them are puppy mill rescues, so they all kind of have, uh, quirks." You take a step back into the shelter. Another. You can't believe you're doing this. Skipping clas.
But then you lock eyes with Somers. And you smile, because this is the only thing that makes you truly happy anymore.
"Miranda and her wife, Jaime, go to auctions all the time to buy as many dogs as they can," you explain. "I went with them one time. I'll remember it for the rest of my life. After I went to the auction, I changed my major from business to biology, with a pre-vet emphasis."
Your parents had freaked out. It had meant adding a fifth year to your undergrad career, to catch up on the necessary classes. But you didn't regret it. Not after seeing what the vets could do for the puppy mill dogs.
"I'm pre-vet too." Adam says. You're surprised. You hadn't met many people who were pre-vet like you. "I'm not as smart as you though. I'll be lucky to get into a decent program after college."
"We can study together sometime. If you want." You're blushing. Why are you blushing? "Jaime and Miranda have connections too. They're one of the more well known puppy mill rescues in this part of the state."
"My mom is one of the vets that works for them."
[["Oh, I didn't know that."]]
<<if visited("stay20") is 1>><<set $scholarship to $scholarship - 2>><<set $Adam to $Adam + 3>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem + 1>><<set $AdamFriend to true>><</if>>"Alright, see you later."
You glance back at Adam, who stands up and moves away from Brutus' cage as you head for the door. Somers yips, for your attention and Adam's.
You finally turn and leave the shelter. Still, you're glad you went at all. You're in a surprisingly good mood as you hurry to class. You're a few minutes late, but you feel strangely energized and take pages of notes as the professor drones on and on and on.
You even decide to go to lunch with Eliza, which you haven't done in a week. You usually flake out on her at the last minute, but you're so rejuvenated after being at the shelter that you can't help but send an emoji ridden text to Eliza after class.
[[Next|adaptive11.1]]
<<if visited("leave21") is 1>><<set $puppy to true>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem + 1>><<set $happiness to $happiness + 2>><</if>><<if $puppy is true>>It's boring in your apartment. After such a pleasant morning at the animal shelter and that fun lunch with Eliza, you hate having to return to the quiet and solitude of your apartment.
But you need to study. You put your head down and crack open another textbook. [[Your parents questioned]] your decision to change majors your sophomore year, and you're desperate to prove them wrong. Visiting the shelter reminded you why you changed to this major to begin with. From business to biology with a pre-vet emphasis. You don't even like biology that much--you just want to get into vet school.
<<elseif $puppy is false>>You're relieved to be alone again after Eliza was so chatty at lunch. As much as you like spending time with her and Jess, it's sometimes exhausting.
As you sit down and open your textbook, you feel like a bitch. You can't judge Eliza and Jess for living their lives and being happy. You're the one who has a problem. Guilt surges over you like a wave. The darkness rises inside of you. Why do you have to be so ornery? So mean? You look down at your flabby forearms. Your tree trunk thighs glare up at you. You're just so fucking unlikeable, so ugly.
You swallow back tears. You text Eliza for a little while, trying to compensate for not being the most amazing friend lately.
Between texting her and Jess, you work on homework. You do really need to study. [[Your parents questioned]] your decision to change majors your sophomore year, and you're desperate to prove them wrong. Visiting the shelter reminded you why you changed to this major to begin with. From business to biology with a pre-vet emphasis. You don't even like biology that much--you just want to get into vet school.<</if>>
Around five o'clock, you get a text from Jess.
Jess: Come with me and Eliza to dinner!!! :)
1. [[Claire: I can't, I need to study. Sorry babes :(|turndown]]
2. [[Claire: Where are you guys doing dinner?|consideration]]"I've been to a few auctions." He opens one of the cages and hooks up a leash to a mangy bichon named Svengoolie. He got rescued around Halloween, and Miranda and Jaime liked to name the dogs based on the time of year they were rescued. Alfred's full name is Alfred Hitchcock. You'd had a litter of puppies named after the Founding Fathers back in July.
"What was it like? For you?" You ask. You almost don't want to know. It hurts to remember going to the auction, even though it's so ingrained in your physical being it's like an extra muscle you refuse to exercise.
"I think of the smell a lot. The dogs' paws." He pulls his baseball hat lower. "At one of the auctions, there was a dog who didn't have her lower jaw anymore. My mom and Miranda were quick to rescue her. She lived with us for a few months, before she died. We named her Alice. By the end, she slept in my bed with me all the time. She was so scared of men when we first adopted her that she wouldn't go near me and my father."
Your eyes are hot. You grab a leash from the wall and walk over to the kennel next to Svengoolie's. The miniature pinshcer inside, Autumn, wags her tail and leaps on her graceful gazelle legs.
"I didn't see anything like that when I went to the auction. But I remember how hot it was. And..." You swallow hard. "There were all these people standing nearby, talking and laughing and trading advice. The people running the auction had put out a bowl of lemonade and some snacks. And they were just eating and drinking and talking like there weren't dying animals just a few feet away."
You scrub at your face. "I wanted to go over and scream at them. Jaime had to grab me and keep me from saying anything."
"I can't go to auctions anymore," Adam admitted. Svengoolie and Autumn sniff at each other as you and Adam lead them out to the parking lot. "I started screaming at someone from a mill. I don't even remember what happened, what started it. I just remember Miranda and Jaime telling me to get in the car."
[[You walk in silence down the bike path.|bikepath]]Ever since you volunteered at that shelter back in high school, you'd gone out of your way to educate yourself about puppy mills. It's a topic you feel passionately about--so passionately, that you switched majors and gave [[your parents premature grey hair.]]
You talked about it sometimes with your friends, but not extensively. You got too agitated, too frustrated. You cried a lot when you thought about it too much. Your friends and family understood where you were coming from, because, well, no one liked to think of dogs in pain. But no one truly got it, not the way Adam did.
You and Adam talk as you walk the dogs. Svengoolie and Autumn prance around, dancing with the fall leaves skittering over the pavement. When you're walking the dogs, neither of you have to look at each other. So you can talk freely, more freely than you can with other people. You and Adam talk about a lot of things, and sometimes you just walk in silence. You're never this comfortable with Derek. It catches you off guard, and you aren't sure what to think.
After you finish walking the dogs, you fidget with your car keys as you watch Adam lock the last kennel.
1. [["Do you want to get lunch with me? I usually just go to the Taco Bell a few minutes away."|lunchwithAdam]]
2. [["Well, I'll see you in class."|leave25]]You and Adam go to the Taco Bell a mile down the highway. You don't remember exactly what you talked about, but the time seemed to fly by. Eventually, you and Adam so your separate ways, although you have agreed to study together the following day.
You're working on homework later that night. You decided not to get lunch or dinner. After skipping class earlier, you knew you needed to punish yourself. Even though you wanted to get dinner with Jess and Eliza, you said no. You need to put your head down and focus on your studies after playing hooky.
While you're taking a break from studying, you decide to check your grades. You notice that one of your grades has dropped a few points, although you're still sitting at a comfortable A. Nevertheless, you feel your heart slamming into your ribcage, trying to bust out of your chest. You click to the online gradebook.
It's from the class you missed today. Oh my god. You'd had a homework assignment due today, and you hadn't been there to turn it in. How the hell had you forgotten about that?
You're such an idiot.
1. [[Take a deep breath, try to breathe.|panic3]]
2. [[You're a failure.|disappointment2]]
<<if visited("lunchwithAdam") is 1>><<set $Adam to $Adam + 3>><<set $Derek to $Derek - 2>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem - 2>><</if>>"Hey, are you free tomorrow night?" Adam asks. Your heart drops into your shoes, and you aren't sure why. You should tell Adam you have a boyfriend.
You open your mouth to tell him about Derek.
"I just wanted to know, because I need someone to study with. For the bio exam."
"Oh." Thank god you didn't bring up Derek. You'd have looked like an idiot. "Uh, yeah, I don't have anything going on tomorrow night."
"Want to meet me in the library at 7?"
"S-sure." You play with the zipper on the pocket of your jacket. "I'll see you then."
You turn and leave before you make even more of an idiot of yourself.
[[Next|badgrade2]]You're working on homework later that night. You decided not to get lunch or dinner. After skipping class earlier, you knew you needed to punish yourself. Even though you wanted to get dinner with Jess and Eliza, you said no. You need to put your head down and focus on your studies after playing hooky.
While you're taking a break from studying, you decide to check your grades. You notice that one of your grades has dropped a few points, although you're still sitting at a comfortable A. Nevertheless, you feel your heart slamming into your ribcage, trying to bust out of your chest. You click to the online gradebook.
It's from the class you missed today. Oh my god. You'd had a homework assignment due today, and you hadn't been there to turn it in. How the hell had you forgotten about that?
You're such an idiot.
1. [[Take a deep breath, try to breathe.|panic]]
2. [[You're a failure.|disappointment]]Switching majors would mean you went five years, instead of four. Janet, your sister, had graduated in three and a half years. Your parents had hoped you would do the same.
Considering your lack of natural talent in science, it had been especially controversial when you told them you wanted to be a bio major. Even Janet tried talking you out of it.
You would just think of what the vets who worked for Jaime and Miranda had done for the puppy mill rescues. And that was motivation enough to sacrifice your social life to put your nose to the grind stone. You might not naturally be good at science, but that wasn't going to stop you. You would push yourself to the limit to get good grades. Just so you could make a [[meaningful contribution to society.|library4]]Jess: Awwww okay :( :( do you want us to get you anything?
Claire: No, I'm okay. Thank you though! Heart you both <3
Jess: Hearts hearts heartsssss
Eliza: Love you too!
After you put your phone on airplane mode, you go back to studying for your bio exam. You debate having something for dinner. You're on a self-imposed diet of 400 calories per day, in a desperate bid to get that number on the scale to go down. But it might be better to use this as a fasting day.
You stare at the pages of your notebook. You just feel so good when you fast. It makes your brain light up like a six lane highway during rush hour. Everything is so loud and bright and colorful, and you have an easier time memorizing your notes. And you need a good grade on that bio exam.
1. [[Check the scale. Maybe you can afford to eat today and still feel good.|consideration2]]
2. [[No, you'll just feel too heavy if you eat something. If you don't eat, you'll feel good and that will make studying easier.|control50]]Jess: We were gonna go to McDonald's. Come on, come with us!!!
Your skin immediately crawls at the thought of going to McDonald's. Even the salads there have a million calories. You aren't sure it's a good idea to go with them anymore, as much as you want to spend time with your friends. You don't think you'd ever feel clean again after being in a place like McDonald's.
1. [[Claire: I'm sorry, I have to stay in and study. :(|turndown]]
2. [[Claire: I can tag along, but I already ate.|McDonalds]]You know you've made a mistake as soon as the smell of grease and bleach hit your nose. You squint against the glare of overly bright overhead lights as you follow Jess and Eliza into McDonald's. You sang Taylor Swift on the drive over, and that relaxed you a little bit. But now that you're here, staring up at the menu, seeing the little French fry station in the back corner behind the counter, the gleaming-silver ice cream machine right in front, the hulking soda fountains, the ketchup dispensers covered in red residue--your heart starts pounding.
You hate it. You hate what the French fries, the ice cream, the burgers you can smell cooking from an unseen grill, the ice cream, the ketchup, the soda, all represent. Weakness. Temptation. Fat. Ugly. Your mind spins like a kaledeiscope, and you feel like you're falling.
This was a mistake. You had just wanted to spend time with your friends, feel less like a bitch for always flaking on them. But now--it's too much. It feels like a cosmic spotlight is shining down on you, revealing all the ugly lumps and bumps under your clothes.
"Are you ready to order?" Jess asks Eliza. "'Cause I don't know what I want."
"I do, I'll go first." Eliza bounces up to the counter. You cross your arms over your chest and hunch your shoulders, trying to withdraw into yourself. "Hi! Can I get a medium chocolate shake and a large order of fries?"
Chocolate shake (450 calories at least)
Large fry (got to be over 500 calories)
You're trying not to judge Eliza, but god, how can she eat all of that and not feel horrible about herself? Jess orders a Big Mac and fries--you get dizzy trying to calculate the amount of calories that must be.
"Don't you want something, Claire?" Eliza asks as you wait for their orders to come out.
"No, I'm good. I already ate. Early dinner."
"You can have some of my fries if you want," Eliza says.
[["Okay," you smile at her and restrain the urge to be sick.|mcdonalds2]]To ensure the accuracy of the reading, you strip down until you are naked. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. There's an unpleasant thickening around your midrift. You think of how you looked in high school. So tiny, with a waist like a Disney character. When did you get so...so fat? So ugly? What happened to you? You lost control. You just had to maintain a tight grip on your control, and you could get back to those days. When you were happy and skinny and beautiful.
Your thighs look like tree trunks. You pinch at the layer of meat over your ribcage. You hate your body. You wish you could take it off and throw it in the trash.
You step on the scale. You need its permission to have dinner. You look at the numbers.
<<if $weight >= 100>>$weight. $weight pounds. Your heart races. You press your hand against the wall to keep from falling over. When did you get so fat? What happened? You thought you were doing better than this. How did your control slip?
You can't possibly eat dinner tonight. Even the thought of food entering your system, coursing through your blood stream like sludge, makes you want to be ill. You scramble off the scale, not wanting to look at the ugly number anymore.
You pull a sweater on and squeeze into your sweat pants. You hate the sight of your ugly naked body. How does Derek still find your attractive? You're lucky you have any friends left at all.
Darkness swims through your chest. You feel like you're drowning.
1. [[Go to the YMCA and exercise. You can work the weight off.|gym2]]
2. [[Just focus on your studies. You don't need to have dinner tonight--you can put all your effort into studying for bio.|studying]]
<<else>>You're at an okay weight. $weight pounds. Yet it's still not enough. You don't like it. The longer you stare at it, the uglier the number becomes. You feel that darkness swimming through your chest, choking you, wrapping around your internal organs like a disease. You step off the scale and look in the mirror.
You could do better.
You don't deserve to eat tonight. You wish you never had to eat again, never had to pollute your body and feel so--disgusting. So heavy. So real.
You starve to get away from those nasty, grimy, ugly emotions. You pinch at the fat on your cheek. That settles it. You need to skip dinner and work on homework tonight.
You lock your bedroom door and climb into bed with your textbook.<</if>>
[[Next|Day3]]
<<if visited("consideration2") is 1>><<set $scholarship to $scholarship + 2>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem + 1>><<set $happiness to $happiness + 1>><</if>>You don't know why people refer to food as "fuel." It makes you feel so heavy, like you could fall through the floor. If anything, it seems to sap the energy from your body as it settles into your blood stream. You become sluggish and you can't accomplish anything when you pollute your body with calories.
So you sit quietly in your room for the rest of the night and focus on your homework. You start to feel weightless, buoyant, like you're going to drift off the bed and hit the ceiling. Your brain zooms ahead, and you love it.
You're broken, but the cracks just allow the light inside of you to shine through.
You don't want anyone to fix you. Not if it will make you hate yourself again.
[[Next|Day3]]
<<if visited("control50") is 1>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem to + 1>><<set $scholarship to $scholarship + 2>><<set $happiness to $happiness + 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 5>><</if>>Not many people are in the gym at dinner time. You're glad that there aren't many people around to witness your shame. You feel like your cellulite is trying to explode out of your skintight workout pants.
You keep your head down as you climb onto the treadmill. At first, you go slow.
And then, as you fall into a rhythm, you push yourself. Up the intensity--increase resistance and pace until your thighs are burning, screaming.
You think you could jump off the treadmill and fly.
The weight seems to drop away as you run. Longer, faster, harder. Until you can taste sweat on your upper lip and feel fat droplets dripping down your temples. Rivers of sweat settle on your lower back.
You can't stop yet. If you stop, all of the bad thoughts will snap back into your skull like a rubber band pulled too far. When you run, the shadows slink back into the darker corners of your brain.
You watch the calorie counter on the treadmill.
1. [[You need to go longer. There's 3500 calories in a pound.|run2]]
2. [[Your side hurts too much. You need to stop.|stop2]]You don't know why people refer to food as "fuel." It makes you feel so heavy, like you could fall through the floor. If anything, it seems to sap the energy from your body as it settles into your blood stream. You become sluggish and you can't accomplish anything when you [[pollute your body with calories.]]
So you sit quietly in your room for the rest of the night and focus on your homework. You start to feel weightless, buoyant, like you're going to drift off the bed and hit the ceiling. Your brain zooms ahead, and you love it.
You're broken, but the cracks just allow the light inside of you to shine through.
You don't want anyone to fix you. Not if it will make you hate yourself again. Just thinking about the number on the scale increasing makes you want to be ill.
[[Next|Day3]]
<<if visited("studying") is 1>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem to + 1>><<set $scholarship to $scholarship + 2>><<set $happiness to $happiness + 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 3>><</if>>It won't ever be enough.
You run and run and run.
You barely manage to pull the safety switch before you feel your ankles give out beneath you. The treadmill immediately stops. You are on your knees on the track, panting loudly, like a dog. You suck in air, but it doesn't feel like your lungs are big enough. You push sweat-soaked hair out of your face.
"You okay?" A distant voice asks.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
After a few minutes, you find the strength to climb to your feet. You feel a little wobbly, but you're okay. That guy, Adam, is standing next to your treadmill still, staring at you. You'd thought your lack of response to him had signaled your desire to be left alone. Guess not.
Unless...unless he's staring at you because of waht a fool you just made of yourself. This isn't the kind of attention you want. No, everyone is the gym is staring at you. They're ogling you because they just saw you in a moment of weakness. Your cheeks burn.
"I said I'm fine," you insist to Adam.
"Do you need water or something? You look like you're about to pass out."
1. [["I'm fine. I can get my own water."|snap]]
2. [["Can you help me down?"|help]]
<<if visited("run2") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 1>><</if>>The treadmill grinds to a halt under your sneakers. You wipe at your sweaty forehead.
"You alright?"
You nearly jump out of your skin when you look over and meet Adam's eyes.
"I'm fine," you pant. "I'm fine."
"You sure about that?"
"I just..."
1. [["I got some bad news. I thought running would help."|honesty2.2]]
2. [["I just went a little too hard, I guess."|lie2.2]]
"Whatever," Adam shrugs. "Hey, could you look at my bio paper?"
"Uh, yeah, sure."
"Someone said you're pre-vet. Is that true?"
"Yeah, yeah it is."
"I am too. Could we study together some time? My grades aren't where I want them to be."
"Oh, yeah, that's fine, just message me on Facebook."
"Great, thanks. I'll talk to you later."
He walks away. You aren't sure what just happened. But you think you were able to trick him. And everyone in the gym. No one looks at you sideways as you gather your things and leave the gym.
When you go home, you step on the scale again. You still aren't happy. You cry yourself to sleep that night.
But you'll do better. You have to.
[[Next|Day3]]You aren't sure you can move without collapsing like a newborn horse. Adam extends his hand to you. You lean on him--more than you want to, you hate to think how ugly your weight must be to him--as you step off the treadmill. Once you're steady, you pull away from him. He must be disgusted by you.
"Are you okay?" He asks.
"I promise, I'm okay." You try to smile at him. But you feel dead inside after making such a fool of yourself in front of so many people. His gaze sweeps you up and down. You want to crawl out of your ugly body, get away from that horrible shell. Just fly free, for the first time in your life.
"After you cool down, would you be interested in going with me to get dinner real quick? Just at the cafe around the corner."
1. [["I already ate, but thanks for offering."|lie20]]
2. [["I already ate, but I can go with. I'll just get a coffee."|accept20]]"Okay," he says. He doesn't seem happy with your response. "Hey, have you started the bio paper yet? Would you mind looking at mine?"
"Oh, uh, yeah, sure."
"Great. I'll send it to you later. Take care of yourself, Claire."
And then Adam's gone. And you feel like a lifeline's just been cut, and you're drifting far from shore.
You shake the feeling away. You grab your stuff and slink back to your apartment. You nearly cry when you stand on the scale again.
1. [[Tomorrow, you'll sit in the library all day and study. And you will make it an impromptu fasting day. You can't afford to slip up like that, not again.|Day3]]
2. [[You don't even think you'll be able to pull yourself out of bed tomorrow. You humiliated yourself, first in the kitchen, now in the gym. You're a failure.|Day3]]
<<if visited("lie20") is 1>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem - 2>><<set $weight to $weight - 4>><</if>><<if $puppy is true>>You don't know how you ended up getting coffee with the guy from your bio class. You barely even know Adam. Why did you agree to go with him?
You think of seeing him at the shelter. If he volunteers at a puppy mill rescue, he must be a good person.
"How long have you worked at the shelter?" He asks.
"Since freshman year. You started recently?"
"Yeah. I used to work there, but I haven't for the last couple of years."
"Oh."
"My mom is one of the vets that Miranda and Jaime like to go to," he says. "It's what made me want to be a vet."
"Oh, are you pre-vet?"
"Yeah, but the odds of me getting into a good school are pretty slim after how badly I fucked up freshman and sophomore year." He sighs.
"I mean, I could help you study. If you want."
"That'd be cool."
"I decided I wanted to be a vet after working with the puppy mill dogs." You swallow hard as the memories surface, like ugly tangles of seaweed washing ashore. "I went to an auction one time, with Jaime."
"I went to a few, too."
"What was it like? For you?" You ask. You almost don't want to know. It hurts to remember going to the auction, even though it's so ingrained in your physical being it's like an extra muscle you refuse to exercise.
"I think of the smell a lot. The dogs' paws." He runs a hand through his shoulder length black hair. "At one of the auctions, there was a dog who didn't have her lower jaw anymore. My mom and Miranda were quick to rescue her. She lived with us for a few months, before she died. We named her Alice. By the end, she slept in my bed with me all the time. She was so scared of men when we first adopted her that she wouldn't go near me and my father."
Your eyes are hot.
"I didn't see anything like that when I went to the auction. But I remember how hot it was. And..." You swallow hard. "There were all these people standing nearby, talking and laughing and trading advice. The people running the auction had put out a bowl of lemonade and some snacks. And they were just eating and drinking and talking like there weren't dying animals just a few feet away."
You scrub at your face. "I wanted to go over and scream at them. Jaime had to grab me and keep me from saying anything."
"I can't go to auctions anymore," Adam admitted. "I started screaming at someone from a mill. I don't even remember what happened, what started it. I just remember Miranda and Jaime telling me to get in the car."
[[You stare down into your coffee as you and Adam sit in a strangely comfortable silence.|accept21]]
<<elseif $puppy is false>><<set $Adam to $Adam + 2>>You don't know how you ended up getting coffee with the guy from your bio class. You barely even know Adam. Why did you agree to go with him?
"Nice shirt," he points to your "Hannibal" tee shirt. "I liked that show. I'm sad it got cancelled."
You cup your hands around your cup of coffee. Black coffee has zero calories, so it's safe to drink. Even though your eyes flicker to the cookie that Adam got, you insist to yourself that you don't actually want it. Just think of the calories. Of the number on the scale increasing, making you a burden on this earth.
"Not a lot of people watched it." You smile as you think about your high school obsession. "I used to always check the ratings after every episode. And when renewal season came around, I was always a mess. I was so upset when they cancelled it. A lot of people thought it was weird, that I was so into horror stuff. They liked Saw and the other gorefests, but I was into the real stuff. They still think it's kind of weird, honestly. I got called Maribal Lecter one time when I wore this shirt around my dorm freshman year."
"They just don't know what good TV is. Honestly, I think Maribal Lecter is kind of funny, but in a good way."
"That's how I chose to see it."
"I'm not into Saw or Hostel or anything like that. At least, not the gory sequels. The originals have value, in a cinematic sense. They ushered in a new wave of horror, and I can respec that."
"Oh, so you give Paranormal Activity credit for ushering in the found footage genre?"
"I'd say Blair Witch Project had more of a role in that than Paranormal Activity."
"If you say so."
You debate about movies. First horror, then other genres. He's as much of a film snob as you are--his knowledge of movies is as pointlessly extensive as yours. You try to talk about movies with your friends, but they're never as into it as you are.
Suddenly, you're agreeing to go to a hipster fest art festival with him. You feel conflicted about it. You have purposely not brought up Derek. Or the fact that he hates going to the cinema, which you can't comprehend.
"Hey, I need to get going to work on homework. But we should do this again some time." You stand up. You're running on three or four cups of coffee--you lost count. Zero calories, so it's safe. Safe, safe, safe.
"Okay, I'll text you."
You walk back to your apartment with your head spinning. You feel a little guilty about hanging out with Adam. It felt too much like a date. You should've brought up Derek.
You'll just have to be more careful next time you hang out. You wish you didn't have to deal with all of these--emotions. They're all so messy, dirty, uncomfortable. Like your own skin.
When the number on the scale goes down, you feel less. You're aloof, above everyone else, floating like a cloud. That heavy darkness in your chest slinks away, and you're weightless.
You need to get the number lower. Then you won't have to deal with guilt or attraction or regret or any of the other nasty emotions you hate so much.
You'll finally be free. Flying. Flying.<</if>>
[[Next|Day3]]Ever since you volunteered at that shelter back in high school, you'd gone out of your way to educate yourself about puppy mills. It's a topic you feel passionately about--so passionately, that you switched majors and gave your parents premature grey hair.
You talked about it sometimes with your friends, but not extensively. You got too agitated, too frustrated. You cried a lot when you thought about it too much. Your friends and family understood where you were coming from, because, well, no one liked to think of dogs in pain. But no one truly got it, not the way Adam did.
You and Adam talk for a long time. About school, about the puppy mills, about...stuff. You and Adam talk about a lot of things, and sometimes you just sit in silence. You're never this comfortable with Derek. It catches you off guard, and you aren't sure what to think.
"I really need to go back and work on my homework." You say. You stand up. You've drank three cups of coffee. How long have you been sitting there? You aren't sure you want to know. "I'll see you in class."
"See you later." He says.
You hurry out of the cafe. You walk back to your apartment.
You're confused. You think you like Adam, maybe too much, considering you have a boyfriend. A boyfriend you purposely never brought up in the conversation.
$weight, $weight, $weight.
You're too heavy. Too full of--feelings. Emotions. You don't want any part of it. If you could get that number on the scale to go down, maybe you could start to feel less again. You could be happy, then. You wouldn't have to deal with the messy tangle of emotions that day to day life brought. You could be ethereal, like air, indifferent to everything around you. Perfect and invisible to everyone.
You go to bed and your head is spinning.
[[Next|Day3]]
<<if visited("accept21") is 1>><<set $Adam to $Adam + 3>><<set $happiness to $happiness - 1>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem - 1>><<set $scholarship to $scholarship - 1>><<set $AdamFriend to true>><<set $weight to $weight - 4>><</if>>"Is everything okay?" He asks.
"Not really, but I'll...I'll live." You aren't sure if that's a lie. You refuse to look at him as you talk. "Anyway, what's up?"
He looks like he's debating what to say for a second.
"After you cool down, would you be interested in going with me to get dinner real quick? Just at the cafe around the corner."
1. [["I already ate, but thanks for offering."|lie20]]
2. [["I already ate, but I can go with. I'll just get a coffee."|accept20]]"I get that," he shrugs. "I do the same thing. Hey, could you look at my bio paper?"
"Uh, yeah, sure."
"Someone said you're pre-vet. Is that true?"
"Yeah, yeah it is."
"I am too. Could we study together some time? My grades aren't where I want them to be."
"Oh, yeah, that's fine, just message me on Facebook."
"Great, thanks. I'll talk to you later."
He walks away. You aren't sure what just happened. But you think you were able to trick him. And everyone in the gym. No one looks at you sideways as you gather your things and leave the gym.
When you go home, you step on the scale again. You still aren't happy. You cry yourself to sleep that night.
But you'll do better. You have to.
[[Next|Day3]]It doesn't take long for Jess and Eliza to notice how quiet you're being. You purposely refuse to look at them as they eat.
Once upon a time, early on in your, uh, new diet, you would go to the grocery store and wander around for hours. You'd go into the produce section and pick up different fruits and vegetables, hold them close to your face, smell them. You really liked the texture and weight of pomegranates. It was obsessive, and you're sure the store employees thought you were insane. But somehow, touching the food reassured you--like you could hold it in your hand and still choose to reject it, in the end.
You had stopped doing that a while ago, because the temptation had become too great. Your brain rewired itself, became obsessed with food. The smell, the texture, the appearance--it was all so quick to snag your attention, as much as you didn't want it to.
So now sitting across from Jess and Eliza, while they stuffed their faces with some of the fattiest foods imaginable, felt like absolute torture. You are tempted to snatch the food from their hands--to eat it or throw it on the ground, you aren't sure anymore.
You sit quietly while they chat. You don't trust yourself.
"You sure you don't want a fry, Claire?" Eliza asks.
"Yeah, I'm fine." You wave her away.
"Has everything been okay lately?" Eliza and Jess both look at you.
1. [["I'm fine, really. Maybe a little stressed from school, but nothing I can't handle."|lie52]]
2. [["I'm on a diet right now."|diet]]"You're lucky you're not a stress eater like I am. You're a stress--not eater, I guess." Eliza shakes her head. "I never understood how you could turn away food before exams."
"My stomach gets too upset!" You say.
"Lucky. Mine becomes a bottomless pit." Eliza pops another French fry into her mouth. It's positively laden in ketchup. How many extra calories did that add?
"I can go both ways," Jess says. "Depends on my mood. And if I'm on my period or not. If the red demon has cometh, then I'm shoveling every high calorie food in sight into my body."
"Girl, same." Eliza dabs her mouth with a napkin. "I get mad sweet cravings when I'm on my period. And PMSing. And every other day of the month."
"Your chocolate addiction is legitimately unsettling."
Now that you've successfully diverted attention, you can relax a little bit. You make sure to chime in when it's appropriate, but your heart isn't in the conversation. Jess and Eliza, at least for once, dont' seem to notice.
You end up studying for a little while that night, and watching a horror movie on Netflix. It feels like you're watching your life happen from outside of your body, a crude simulation of what it means to be human.
But as long as you laugh and smile and hit all of your cues, no one suspects a thing.
[[Next|Day3]]
<<if visited("lie52") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 5>><<set $Jess to $Jess + 2>><</if>>"A diet?" Eliza nods to herself, like that proved something. "You have been losing a lot of weight lately."
You smile, and it unfurls across your face full and genuine. Those are the magic words. 'You've lost weight.' It meant your efforts were paying off.
"Why'd you go on a diet though? You're already super skinny." Eliza continues.
You shrug. "I wanted to. Is there something wrong with that?"
Jess is watching both of you, and you see a flash of something you don't like in her eyes. Is she judging you?
"No, I guess not. Whatever makes you happy, as long as it's healthy." Eliza pops another fry into her mouth. She smiles, unaware of the slight thread of tension drawn taut between you and Jess. She was never good at picking up on subtextual clues. "I could stand to lose a few pounds, but I just love food too much."
She sucks up the last dredges of her shake with a [[loud slurping sound.]] It makes you want to claw your face off.
"I have more work to get done. Are you guys ready to go?" You ask. It's abrupt and whle Eliza is quick to stand and put on her coat, Jess seems to hesitate.
"Is it okay if I come back to your place and study? I've been spending too much time in the library lately and it's driving me insane." Eliza says.
"Of course," you say, and smile. Because it's what you're supposed to do.
You all go back to your apartment. You study together for a while, until Jess offers to drive Eliza back to her apartment on the other side of town. You stay behind and continue working on your homework.
When Jess comes back, you expect her to say something about your diet. But she doesn't. Surprisingly, she just goes into her room and closes the door.
It makes your heart shrivel up in your chest.
[[Next|Day3]]
<<if visited("diet") is 1>><<set $Jess to $Jess - 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 3>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem - 1>><</if>>You're a failure. How did you forget about your homework? You're [[supposed to be better than that.]] What will the professor think of you now? You usually do so well in that class.
You shove your textbooks away. You can feel your stomach knotting itself into a tight ball.
Without conscious thought, you find yourself shooting off of the bed. You stumble into the kitchen.
1. [[Binge.|binge]]
2. [[Go to the gym downstairs and work it off. Run until you can't feel your legs anymore. Run and run and run and run.|gym]]
<<if $selfesteem > 2>>3. [[Text Jess or Eliza.|text20]]<</if>>
<<if visited("disappointment2") is 1>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem - 2>><<set $happiness to $happiness - 1>><</if>>You still have an A. You repeat that in your head over and over. It could've been much worse.
Tears pool in your eyes. It's still a failure. Anything [[less than an A]] is a failure.
You rub at your eyes. Just take a deep breath. Count to ten. Breathe.
1. [[Keep working on your homework.|homework.5]]
2. [[Go into the kitchen. Get away from your failure.|purge4]]Claire: I effed up. I forgot to turn in a homework assignment.
Jess: Oh well. You win some, you lose some! It didn't bring your grade down too much, right?
Claire: No, I still have an A. But I feel terrible. I skipped class today to volunteer at the shelter.
Jess: You skipped class?? YOU?! Well, at least you skipped to volunteer. God you're the purest person I know.
Claire: I feel like an idiot.
Jess: Don't feel that way!! It's fine. It's one homework assignment. Don't worry about it too much, okay? You played hooky. So does everyone else, and they usually do it for much worse reasons than you.
Claire: Okay.
Jess: You better be actually taking in what I'm saying, Miss Claire. I'm serious, don't worry about it!!!
You stare down at the texts. You're glad you reached out to Jess--glad she didn't judge you.
You just have to study and move on. There isn't anything you can do. You can ask the professor if she'll accept late work, at least for some points.
Your hands are still shaking slightly as you work on your homework.
[[Next|Day3]]
<<if visited("text20") is 1>><<set $Jess to $Jess + 1>><<set $scholarship to $scholarship + 1>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem + 1>><<set $weight to $weight + 2>><</if>>"Of course, that's the number that always gets me laid," Jess still seems hesitant to leave. "Are you absolutely sure you're okay? I could always reschedule with Tyler. We haven't laid down any for sure plans, you know. And we haven't done a pizza and movie night in ages."
1. [["Oh, yeah, I guess. I haven't gotten to talk to you in forever."|control36]]
2. [["No, don't cancel your date for me. We can find another day." You say.|extreme26]]"Claire, you know you can talk to me. I'm here for you." Jess turns and looks at you. You hate it. You don't want her to look at you. You can feel her gaze dissecting you.
This was a mistake, you shouldn't have told her. Even behind her kind eyes and gentle words, you know she's silently judging you. Thinks you're a pretentious, selfish brat. There are people in third world African countries who are starving, you know. Why won't you just eat a goddamn sandwich? Stop being so dramatic.
1. [["I'm scared to...to tell anyone." You admit.|truth25]]
2. [["Forget I said anything." You refuse to look at her.|lie25]]
<<if visited("admission25") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 1>><</if>>"Claire..."
"No, I know what happens next." Your cheeks are wet. When did you start crying? "You're going to call my parents and tell them I need treatment. And they're going to lock me away in some facility and treat me like a baby who can't make her own choices. I have to finish school, Jess. I can't waste away in a facility for years."
"You can still finish school. You can get outpatient treatment," Jess swallows. "And I'm not going to tell your parents. That wouldn't be right. But you know what I'm going to say."
You stare blankly at the wall.
"You need to get help. Start by going into the counseling center on campus. I'm sure they can help you, Claire. They can help you figure out your next step. But it's your choice. I know it's wrong to take the choice away from you, so I won't...I won't tell your parents."
Unless it gets bad. You can hear the implicit warning in her tone.
[["I'll think about it." You aren't sure if you're lying or telling the truth.|cont25]]
<<if visited("truth25") is 1>><<set $Jess to $Jess + 3>><</if>>"Claire..."
"No, don't." You're like a cornered animal, scared, biting at the hand that's trying to help you. "I don't want to hear it. You've taken a few psych classes, I get it, you think you've figured me out. But I don't--I don't want to talk about it."
Jess doesn't say anything.
"I don't want to watch you fall apart." She says. "I watched my sister go through the same thing that you are."
Her sister, Jackie.
You swallow the lump in your throat.
Her sister, Jackie, who died of heart failure when Jess was still in high school.
"If you keep doing this, Claire, I don't know if I can stand by and watch." She shakes her head and climbs to her feet. "I'm not going to tell anyone else, because I know you need to make the decision for yourself to get better. But if things keep going the way they are, Claire, I'm going to call them. I don't want to, but your life is going to be on the line. And you don't get to die, not like this."
Jess glances at the screen. At the demon flying around the room, trying to find someone to possess.
"I know it's complicated. I know how awful it is. I know how much you must hate yourself. But you can get better. Even if it sucks and sometimes makes you hate yourself more, you still have a chance."
You can hear Jess's heart in her voice. She watched Jackie shrivel away to nothing, and now her friend and roommate is doing the same thing.
Something shifts in your chest, like a rockslide in a cave. Except you aren't sure if you escaped in time, or if the rocks are now blocking your only way out.
You're selfish and ugly and horrible for making Jess go through this again. But you aren't sure if she's right. You don't know if you have a chance anymore.
Jess goes into the kitchen.
"Just...know that I'm here. Even if it seems like the whole world is out to get you, know that I'm not."
You watch the demon on the screen.
[[Next|Day4]]
<<if visited("lie25") is 1>><<set $Jess to $Jess - 2>><<set $happiness to $happiness - 1>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem - 1>><</if>>The following Monday, you walk back and forth in front of the counseling center. You kick at the dead leaves that have gathered on the edges of the sidewalk. The air smells like rotten pumpkins and smoke. You adjust your backpack, but it keeps digging into your shoulder blades. The cold seeps down into you, going deeper than your marrow, right into your soul.
You look up at the brick building that sits quietly under an old willow tree. Compared to the hustle and bustle of the main campus, the counseling center is a beacon of calm. People aren't constantly rushing in or rushing out. Hell, as soon as you got close to the building, you felt like you crossed some magical barrier into a much quieter, slower-paced world.
You pace on the sidewalk. You can see the receptionist through the curtains. She probably thinks you're insane. You rake a hand through your hair. Your skin is dry and itchy.
You don't know what to do. You don't want to disentangle yourself from the warm embrace of the disorder. Then you'll have to confront all sorts of ugly things that you don't think you're ready for.
It would be easy to stay this way. The darkness murmurs that it's okay to be like this, no one else understands you, they're just jealous.
Jess's sister Jackie died of her disorder.
Do you want to die?
[[You don't know what to do.|Day4]]
<<if visited("cont25") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight + 1>><</if>>You meet Adam at the shelter. You've been hanging out a lot together lately, both at the shelter and at school. Jess thinks you should make a move on him. You're too nervous to admit you feel anything but friendship for Adam.
Adam is already playing with Somers. You've noticed how much she adores Adam whenever you both work together. <<if $Somers is false>>She is your favorite pup in the shelter, although you would never say that out loud. You love all of the dogs equally, but Somers, a black and white terrier mix, has been at the shelter for almost a year. Even though she has the biggest heart of any dog you've ever met, people persistently walk past her in favor of traditionally "cuter" dogs. It makes you want to scream. Somers deserves all of the love in the world, and yet the cute little suburban families always gravitate towards the puppy mill rescues that are fluffy and white and have no personality. You know you shouldn't be so judgemental--and all of the dogs need homes anyway--but you just wish someone would see what a great pet Somers would be.<</if>>
"Hey," you smile and crouch down to greet Somers. She yips and prances under your hands.
"Are you saying hi to me or the dog?"
"Both," you scratch behind Somers' ratty black ears. "Are Miranda or Jaime here today?"
"Jaime just left, but Miranda is probably going to be here soon." Adam hands you a leash. "You can walk Somers."
"Where's Boston?" You ask. <<if $Somers is false>>Boston was another favorite of yours, a King Charles Cavalier spaniel. He was vain and pompous, with majestic blond hair that tended to billow in the wind. He reminded you, in a strange way, of Chris Hemsworth, a la the Thor movies.<</if>>
"He got adopted." Adam walks past Brutus' cage. <<if $Somers is false>>Brutus was a cute little white bichon with anger issues. He hated everyone, especially men, and only barely tolerated Jaime, one of the owners of the shelter.<</if>> Adam had been trying to befriend Brutus, but the dog wanted nothing to do with anyone. "I'm going to grab Autumn. She and Somers like to play."
You hook Somers up to a leash and [[follow Adam out to the bike path to walk the dogs.|shelter26]]
<<set $AdamFriend2 to true>>You and Adam walk down the path in silence. Somers and Autumn bound ahead. Even though the sky is brilliant blue and untouched by clouds, sunlight stabbing the ground and making the whole world seem a little too bright, the chill in your bones is inescapable. You think your soul is even beginning to freeze over, like a shallow pool of water in winter.
You and Adam have become good friends since you discovered you worked at the same shelter--and also loved all of the same movies and TV shows. You talk to him pretty often. Jess thinks you should start dating him. <<if $Derek > 0>>You try to remind her you have a boyfriend, but she doesn't like Derek and just shrugs if off. She insists that "those things change all the time," and you always roll your eyes.<<else>>You aren't sure how to feel about that. Part of you agrees, but something holds you back. And you aren't sure what that "something" is.<</if>>
Wind whips over the bike path. It feels like claws raking over your bare face. You duck your head. Even through your jacket and sweaters, your heart pounds, and you think even Adam might be able to hear it.
When you reach the entrance to a residential neighborhood, you give Somers and Autumn a few minutes to sniff around. You're breathing a little heavily. That brief walk took more out of you than it should have. The rumble of your heart is uneven, and you can feel your pulse jumping in your neck.
"Are you okay, Claire?" Adam asks. You're swaying slightly on your feet.
[["I'm fine, just a little tired." You say.|lie26]]"Are you sure you want to help me walk the rest of the dogs?" He asks.
"Of course! It's fine. I can get through it." You smile at Adam. He's looking at a point over your shoulder. Your smile withers. As you start walking back towards the shelter, Adam emanates a strange energy beside you. Although it is quiet, you can feel all that goes unspoken vibrating in the air between you and Adam.
"You...you look like you've lost a lot of weight lately."
Your heart flutters. God, you love when people say that to you. A slight flush spreads over your face. Does Adam think you're prettier this way? Is that why he just noticed?
"Thank you," you say.
"I, well, is everything okay? Whenever we eat together, you never get anything and you just seem like you've lost a lot of weight lately, and I just..."
1. [["What are you trying to say?"|accusatory]]
2. [["I promise, I'm okay."|ignore26]]"No one can live off of fucking diet pepsi and black coffee. You asked the server last week how many calories were in a salad. A salad. I understand dieting, but you just--" Adam rakes a hand through his hair. "You dress like it's negative twenty degrees outside, and it's not even that cold. You're fucking skin and bones, and yeah, I'm getting a little worried about it."
1. [["Well, don't worry about it, because it's not your problem."|accusatory2]]
2. [["I'm seriously okay. I get the opposite of the freshman fifteen. When I'm nervous, I can't eat. And I've just had a lot of stress from school lately."|lie26.2]]
<<if visited("accusatory") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 1>><</if>>"Claire, you're my friend. It does happen to be my problem."
"I can make my own decisions," you say. "I'm in control of this."
"You think that--"
"I know it. Look, Adam, I appreciate your concern, but I'm not a girl waiting to be saved by a knight in shining armor. I'm fine. In fact, I'm happy this way."
"Are you? Are you really?"
1. [["Yes."|lie70]]
2. [[Say nothing.|ignore70]]
<<if visited("accusatory2") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 1>><</if>>"I get that," he won't look at you. Tension makes his shoulders and jaw stiff. "And I know how hard you work, but...are you sure that you're okay? That it's healthy?"
1. [["I'm okay, Adam! Don't worry about it. I'm sorry if I've worried you at all lately."|lie26.3]]
2. [["What right do you have to say what's healthy for me?"|accusatory2.2]]"I am worried about you, Claire." Adam says. "And I'm--I'm not trying to judge you or tell you how to live your life."
You won't look at him. You're afraid if you do you'll unravel at the seams.
"But I think you need to, I don't know, talk to someone."
1. [["You don't have any right to say that to me."|accusatory3]]
2. [[Stay silent.|ignore26]]
<<if $Adam >= 3>>3. [["I'm--I'm scared to talk to someone."|admission50]]"I'm not trying to tell you how to live your life. I know how fucking annoying that is. But come on, Claire, you're smart, you know it's bad to live this way."
"To live what way? To live happily?"
"You're happy, you really think that?"
You glare at him.
"Look, I think you need to talk to someone."
1. [["You don't have any right to say that to me."|accusatory3]]
2. [[Stay silent.|ignore26]]
<<if $Adam >= 3>>3. [["I'm--I'm scared to talk to someone."|admission50]]"I'm not trying to judge you, Claire." Adam sounds desperate. You've never heard him sound this way. You turn and meet his frantic gaze. He quickly pulls his hat down and picks up his pace, trying to move in front of you. You stop, pulling the dogs to a halt. They bark and pace between you both. "I'm--I'm worried about you. That's all. I look at you and I see me."
"What do you mean?"
"Look, I've made some terrible choices. I burned a lot of bridges freshman and sophomore year. I have no fucking friends anymore." He turns back to face you. He seems like he's spilling outside of himself, like he's taking up too much space. "Nineteen years old and I was already a goddamn alcoholic. And not the cute 'binge drink every weekend' kind of shit a lot of college kids call alcoholism. No, I needed to drink to get through the fucking day. That's not a healthy damn way to live. I couldn't stand to look at myself in the mirror if I was sober. I had all these horrible, dark feelings inside of me. The alcohol made them bearable."
You stare at him. That sounds so much like the darkness that you feel inside of you. You take a step towards him, like you're attached to him on a wire.
"I feel it, too." You say.
"I know you do. That's why you have your--problem--isn't it? To cope with the darkness. It's not healthy, just like my alcoholism was--is--such a big problem."
1. [["I have it under control."|lie300]]
2. [["Are you better now?"|plead20]]
<<if visited("accusatory3") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight + 1>><</if>>The trees on the side of the highway rustle. Adam is walking fast, too fast, and you're having a hard time keeping up. The edges of your vision are starting to blur.
You haven't eaten in two days. You're only consuming 160 calories on days when do you allow yourself to eat. You stumble to a halt, and it takes Adam a few seconds to notice that you aren't moving.
"Claire?" He looks like he's about five seconds away from carrying you back to the shelter. Somers yelps and stares up at you. You meet her liquid dark gaze. She paws at your sneakers. "Jesus, are you okay?"
You're breathing heavily. You feel like you're about to fall out of your body, like your soul is stitched into your ugly body with used floss. You want the bonds to break. You want to soar. You're a child with their nose pressed against the window, waiting for your parents to come home so you can go outside.
But when you look at Somers, at Autumn, even at Adam, you aren't sure what to think.
"Bark!" Somers jumps up, her little toenails digging into your kneecap.
[["I'm fine," you say. "I'm fine."]]
<<if visited("ignore26") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight + 1>><</if>>"I know, I was scared too."
You glance at Adam, confused.
"Those first two years of college--I fucked up a lot. I drank all the time. Not just the fun college binge drinking on weekends. I was taking booze to classes every day, and I needed to drink to feel okay. I was drunk all the time because that's the only way I could deal with--everything."
You slow down. Somers and Autumn cock their heads like they're listening to Adam's story too.
"I went from being the life of the party, the guy everyone wanted to invite, to being an absolute fucking mess. I woke up in the hospital a few times. I got in fights all the time--with strangers and my friends. I cheated on my girlfriend at the time. My friends and family tried to help me, and I pushed them away because I was too scared to stop drinking. That meant I would have to deal with all kinds of ugly things I wasn't ready for."
Somers walks dutifully between you and Adam like an obedient child, while Autumn chases leaves.
"I had this terrible--terrible darkness I could feel inside of me. And drinking was the only way to cope with it. For me to feel okay about myself after everything I had to deal with as a kid." Adam takes his hat off and adjusts it. "I don't have many friends left, Claire. I burned too many bridges by clinging to the booze, rather than accepting the help my friends and family were trying so desperately to give me. And--and I know it's not the same. But your--thing--is an addiction, in its own way. You're addicted to the feeling, just like I was. And I know you're scared, because I was too. But it...you have to get treatment. That's the only way to get better."
1. [["What if I can't get better?"|fear50]]
2. [["Where do I even start?"|desperation50]]You readjust your grip on Somers' leash and start walking. You breeze past Adam, trying to maintain your composure.
"Claire, look," Adam catches up to you easily. "I've made a lot of mistakes in my life. I fucked up my first two years of college, and I'll be lucky if I can get into a good vet program after I finish undergrad. I was fucking drinking all the time. Not just the fun college binge drinking on weekends. I was taking booze to classes every day, and I needed to drink to feel okay. I was drunk all the time because that's the only way I could deal with--everything."
You slow down. Somers and Autumn cock their heads like they're listening to Adam's story too.
"I went from being the life of the party, the guy everyone wanted to invite, to being an absolute fucking mess. I woke up in the hospital a few times. I got in fights all the time--with strangers and my friends. I cheated on my girlfriend at the time. My friends and family tried to help me, and I pushed them away because I was too scared to stop drinking. That meant I would have to deal with all kinds of ugly things I wasn't ready for."
Somers walks dutifully between you and Adam like an obedient child, while Autumn chases leaves.
"I had this terrible--terrible darkness I could feel inside of me. And drinking was the only way to cope with it. For me to feel okay about myself after everything I had to deal with as a kid." Adam takes his hat off and adjusts it. "I don't have many friends left, Claire. I burned too many bridges by clinging to the booze, rather than accepting the help my friends and family were trying so desperately to give me. And--and I know it's not the same. But your--thing--is an addiction, in its own way. You're addicted to the feeling, just like I was. And if you keep going this way, if you start to choose that over your friends and family, well, you're going to hate yourself even more."
You rub at your eyes. They're burning and wet.
1. [["It's too late for me."|toolate]]
2. [["I have it under control."|lie50]]
<<if visited("I'm fine, you say. I'm fine") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight + 2>><</if>>"You're wrong, Claire," he says. "You can get treatment. Hell, we have the on campus counseling center. Just--go and talk to them. See if they can put you on the right track."
"Do you feel--okay--without alcohol?" You ask. He shifts uncomfortably, and he's paying more attention to the dogs than to you.
"Some days are better than others." He whispers. "I...well, my grandparents put me in a treatment center over winter break last year. I hated it. And I relapsed as soon as I got out of the center. I figured, you know, I'm a college kid, drinking is part of the deal. It was just a phase, it wasn't anything serious."
Autumn tugs at her leash as she tries to chase a squirrel.
"My point is, I think you still have a chance. This shit isn't a phase. It shouldn't be normal, a rite of passage all college kids go through. You deserve to get better."
Did you? You aren't sure anymore.
"Claire, please, just go to the counseling center. It doesn't have to go anywhere. Just find out your options. Okay?"
[["Okay."|cont25]]"That's what it's all about. Control." You stare up at the sky. "My parents--their divorce was really messy and I, uh, I had to go back and forth between their houses for years. And they would tell me to go to school, get good grades, participate in clubs, eat healthy, be more like my sister Janet. And the friends in high school, I just kind faked it with. I knew what they wanted, what they were looking for in a friend, and I gave it to them. It was like wearing a mask. I never felt like I was myself, with any of them. Not my friends, not my family."
You take a deep breath. "And this...this is how I feel like I have control over some part of my life, because everything else is always spiraling out of control, and I feel like I can't even control my emotions and this--this is how I feel safe and whole."
You look over at Adam with pleading eyes. "Please, don't take this away from me. I promise, I'm in control. At all times. Okay?"
"You say that," Adam's knuckles have turned white from gripping the leash so tight. "But you're not in control. You think you are, but you're not. I thought I was in control. I never was."
"We're different." You say.
He doesn't say anything.
You both return to the shelter. You don't talk much as you walk the rest of the dogs.
[[Next|Day4]]
<<if visited("lie50") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 4>><</if>>"You're wrong, Claire," he says. "You can get treatment. Hell, we have the on campus counseling center. Just--go and talk to them. See if they can put you on the right track."
"Do you feel--okay--without alcohol?" You ask. He shifts uncomfortably, and he's paying more attention to the dogs than to you.
"Some days are better than others." He whispers. "I...well, my grandparents put me in a treatment center over winter break last year. I hated it. And I relapsed as soon as I got out of the center. I figured, you know, I'm a college kid, drinking is part of the deal. It was just a phase, it wasn't anything serious."
Autumn tugs at her leash as she tries to chase a squirrel.
"My point is, I think you still have a chance. This shit isn't a phase. It shouldn't be normal, a rite of passage all college kids go through. You deserve to get better."
Did you? Your eyes feel hot. For once, someone--understands.
"I thought I didn't deserve it. That I was too ugly and broken to deserve to get better." Adam stops. You stop next to him, but neither of you will look at each other. "I'm still--trying to come to terms with it. You know, that I deserve to be healthy and--and happy. I'm not going to lie to you, it's hard. After thinking the same way for so long, I...didn't think I could change either. But then I realized--I realized I wanted to live. I was acting like I wanted to die, but I really wanted to live the whole time."
Tears start to drip down your cheeks. You purposely turn away so Adam can't see them. The cold wing saws over your face, turning your tears into icicles.
"You deserve to get better, Claire. Don't let yourself believe otherwise. You're not broken beyond repair."
You rub at your face. The inside of your nose it warm, and you bite at your chapped lips to keep from sobbing out loud.
"Please, just go to the counseling center. It doesn't have to go anywhere. Just find out your options. Okay?"
[["Okay."|cont25]]
<<if visited("fear50") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight + 3>><</if>>"You can go to the on campus counseling center. Or call your parents and talk to them. Your sister. Your friend Jess. Your doctor. They can help you figure out what to do. It has to be your choice, Claire. And I think you do want to get better, even if that means it'll be--hard." He rubs the back of his neck. "I mean, my life would be a lot easier if I was still drinking. It's hard to give up something like, a lifestyle choice. And I won't lie to you and say it's always puppies and rainbows or whatever. But it's worth it."
"How do you know?"
He hesitates. "I don't. I still have a hard time being sober. But everyone keeps telling me how much happier I'll be once I'm better. And I have to believe them."
You squeeze your eyes shut. "I don't know if I'm ready."
"You won't ever be 'ready,' Claire. That's the shitty thing. You have to make the choice--you just have to jump, and trust your friends and family and the counselors to catch you."
"What if I don't deserve it?" You whisper. "To get better? What if I'm too--broken?"
Adam is silent for a long moment. "You're not. Too broken. You deserve to get better. And I know it's hard to believe that. I've been there too. I didn't think I deserved it. But you do. You have to believe that you do. Because you shouldn't have to die for this, when I know you want to live."
You became painfully aware of your fluttering heartbeat, moving so fast and hard in your chest, anchoring you to this moment. You feel alive, too alive, and you hate it. But you don't want to die.
You don't.
Your hand reaches for Adam's, like it has a mind of its own. You're almost shocked when you feel his fingers close around your own. You still won't look at him. You're seconds from falling apart completely on the bike path.
He understands. He understands in a way that no one else has ever been able to. You grip him like a life line.
He says you deserve to live. You have to believe that he isn't lying to you.
[[Next|Day4]]
<<if visited("desperation50") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight + 3>><</if>>"I still get good grades. I still fulfill my responsibilities. I go to club meetings and I hang out with my friends. Does that sound like someone who has a problem?"
"Jesus, Claire! You're lying to yourself. Sure, they all think you're doing good--great, even, because you're getting so skinny and get all...weird...when you haven't been eating--but they don't know you."
"And you do? We've only been friends for a few weeks."
"I've been friends with you long enough to see the difference. I see when you've been starving yourself--you get so fucking happy. And when you've had any kind of setback, you won't even talk to anyone. Not me, not Jess, not Eliza. That's not healthy, Claire."
1. [["I'm okay, Adam! Don't worry about it. I'm sorry if I've worried you at all lately."|lie26.3]]
2. [["What right do you have to say what's healthy for me?"|accusatory2.2]]"I think that's enough of an answer," Adam's tone takes on an unexpectedly nasty edge. "You aren't 'happy,' Claire. And you aren't in control either."
1. [["You don't understand."|anger70]]
2. [["I don't need help."|lie75]]"Honey, I think I understand a little bit better than you realize." Adam says. You glare at him.
"Don't call me 'honey.' You're not my boyfriend." You snap. He grits his teeth. You can almost hear him grinding his molars to dust.
"I know," he says. "Look, Claire, I don't want to fight. I've fucked up enough friendships in my life. I don't want to fuck up this one."
1. [["Well, you're on your way."|anger71]]
2. [["How can you possibly understand?"|inquire]]
<<if visited("anger70") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 1>><</if>>"Why? Because you think you're in control?"
"Yeah. That's what it's all about." You stare up at the sky. "My parents--their divorce was really messy and I, uh, I had to go back and forth between their houses for years. And they would tell me to go to school, get good grades, participate in clubs, eat healthy, be more like my sister Janet. And the friends in high school, I just kind of faked it with. I knew what they wanted, what they were looking for in a friend, and I gave it to them. It was like wearing a mask. I never felt like I was myself, with any of them. Not my friends, not my family."
You take a deep breath. "And this...this is how I feel like I have control over some part of my life, because everything else is always spiraling out of control, and I feel like I can't even control my emotions and this--this is how I feel safe and whole."
You look over at Adam with pleading eyes. "Please, don't take this away from me. I promise, I'm in control. At all times. Okay?"
"You say that," Adam's knuckles have turned white from gripping the leash so tight. "But you're not in control. You think you are, but you're not. I thought I was in control. I never was."
"We're different." You say.
He doesn't say anything.
You both return to the shelter. You don't talk much as you walk the rest of the dogs.
[[Next|Day4]]"Stop pushing me away, Claire."
"I'm not the one doing any pushing."
Adam rips his hat off and runs his hand through his shoulder length black hair. You can see his dark, thick eyebrows slanting over his eyes in a scowl.
"I was like you once too. I made mistakes, a shit ton of them. I drank myself into oblivion freshman and sophomore year. Hell, I don't even remember most of those years. I was--I am an alcoholic, at fucking twenty-one. I got addicted to the feeling when I was drunk, and I know it's not exactly the same but you're addicted to that feeling too, aren't you? It helps you cope with the ugliness you think is swimming all around inside of you."
1. [["Don't compare my thing to alcoholism. It's not the same."|anger72]]
2. [["What happened? How did you--get better?"|inquire2]]
<<if visited("anger71") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight + 1>><</if>>Double-click this passage to edit it."I am in control. You weren't." You feel like you're spewing acid. You hate yourself, but you can't stop. "Stop trying to help me. I don't want help. I don't need help."
Adam sighs. "Okay. Fine. You don't want help. But even if you're going to be pissy and angry, I'm still going to be here for you if you ever decide you want help. You can't push me out, Claire."
You don't say anything. You feel like crying. When did you become such a bitch?
"I need to go," you hand Somers' leash to him. "I can't do this. I can't."
"Claire..."
"I'm--I'm sorry."
You pull the collar of your coat higher over your face. You refuse to look back as you walk the rest of the way down the bike path back to your car.
[[Next|Day4]]
<<if visited("anger72") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 4>><</if>>"I...well, my grandparents put me in a treatment center over winter break last year. I hated it. And I relapsed as soon as I got out of the center. I figured, you know, I'm a college kid, drinking is part of the deal. It was just a phase, it wasn't anything serious."
Autumn tugs at her leash as she tries to chase a squirrel.
"You can go to the on campus counseling center. Or call your parents and talk to them. Your sister. Your friend Jess. Your doctor. They can help you figure out what to do. It has to be your choice, Claire. And I think you do want to get better, even if that means it'll be--hard." He rubs the back of his neck. "I mean, my life would be a lot easier if I was still drinking. It's hard to give up something like, a lifestyle choice. And I won't lie to you and say it's always puppies and rainbows or whatever. But it's worth it."
"How do you know?"
He hesitates. "I don't. I still have a hard time being sober. But everyone keeps telling me how much happier I'll be once I'm better. And I have to believe them."
You squeeze your eyes shut. "I don't know if I'm ready."
"You won't ever be 'ready,' Claire. That's the shitty thing. You have to make the choice--you just have to jump, and trust your friends and family and the counselors to catch you."
[[Next|Day4]]
<<if visited("inquire2") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight + 2>><</if>>The first thing you notice when you step in the coffee shop is the pile of pastries in the brightly lit glass case. You freeze, like you've been spotted by a predator, that predator being a chocolate-iced donut with pink sprinkles.
You don't want it. You don't need it.
As you stand there, paralyzed, immobile, someone runs into you from behind.
"Oh, sorry, girl!" A girl from one of your classes, Erin, smiles at you. "Jeez, I could've knocked you over! You're getting so skinny. I'm jealous. Anyway, I'll see you!"
She flounces away. You smile to yourself and glare at the offending donut. Fully in control once more, you make your way across the coffee shop to Eliza.
You smile as you catch her eye. She takes her headphones out and smiles up at you, a bit of chocolate stuck between her two front teeth from her chocolate chip scone. How many calories would be in a scone? It's not even worth contemplating, or you'll be ill.
"Hey, what's up?" Eliza smiles and hugs you around the waist. She frowns slightly, but then she plasters that smile back on.
"Nothing much, how about you?" You sit down across from her.
"I'm just working on my religion paper. And I have a freaking chem exam tomorrow, and I feel like I'm going to tear my hair out." She pulls another piece off her scone. "I haven't seen you in a few days, unless you count snapchats of your lovely face. Where're you heading?"
"I have class, but I thought I'd come in and say hi since I'm early."
"Well here," she pushes the scone towards you. "Take my scone."
[["Oh, I couldn't. I'm on a diet right now."|diet40]]
<<set $scone to false>>
<<set $scone2 to false>>"Girl, I thought you went off that diet!" Eliza continues to push the scone towards you. "Lord knows you don't need to lose anymore weight. You're already, like, super tiny."
"It's a paleo diet. Meat and vegetables only." You lie.
"Oh, nonsense, I'm sure they had sugar and chocolate in paleolithic times." She smiles. Her lips are layered in vibrant pink lip gloss. She's wearing her 'Let's Be Mermaids' baseball cap. <<if $AdamFriend2 is true>>It makes you [[think of Adam,]] even though you don't want to.<</if>>
1. [["I really have to get going. And no, I'm not taking the food from your mouth, Eliza!"|deflect40]]
2. [["Okay, fine."|scone40]]
"Come on, Claire, it's just a scone!" Eliza is being insistent. It's annoying, and makes you want to stomp your foot and scream. Her playful expression falters when she sees the heat crawling over your cheeks.
"I know," you snap. It is just a scone. You shouldn't be falling over yourself to prove anything to Eliza. You pull your jacket tighter around your shoulders, battling the terrible chill that's settled inside of you for weeks now.
"You...you don't have to take it if you don't want it." She says.
1. [[Just take the stupid scone.|scone40]]
2. [["I have to get to class." You say.|big deal?]]
<<set $scone2 to true>>"They're really good." She shoves the scone into your hand.
"Well, I have to go to class." You stuff the scone into your backpack and stand up. "I'll see you later, Eliza."
"Bye, babe."
You leave the coffee shop. When you stop to pull the scone out of your bag and throw it away, you realize that Eliza is watching you through the window. She quickly averts her gaze, but you know she saw you.
<<if $weight < 81>>[[You still throw the scone away.|scone41]]
<<else>>[[You don't want to hurt her feelings, so you keep it. For now.|scone51]]<</if>>
You glance back one more time to see Eliza watching you through the window. She's frowning slightly, but she pretends she doesn't see you.
You turn and join the throng of people heading to their morning classes. Maybe you're imagining things. Maybe Eliza didn't see you throw the scone away.
As you walk to class, your stomach starts to curl around itself, like a frightened animal tucking itself into the back of a kennel.
Was it wrong of you to throw the scone away? Where did this guilt come from? <<if $selfesteem < 0>>Maybe you should [[text Eliza]]. You really weren't trying to hurt her feelings.
<<else>>You have no reason to feel guilty. It was just a scone. What's the [[big deal?]]<</if>>
Claire: Hey Eliza I'm sorry about the scone.
Eliza: No it's fine.
You bite your lower lip. There's a suspicious absence of emojis, and Eliza is practically a living emoji.
Claire: Are you sure?
Eliza: I'm just kind of worried about you, Claire. You always used to love chocolate scones idk things have been weird lately
Claire: Weird?
Eliza: Yeah idk it's just weird that you'd throw away a scone like that
Claire: I told you I didn't want it.
For a long minute, Eliza doesn't reply.
Eliza: Is everything okay?
Claire: Yes, I'm fine.
Eliza: I'm here for you.
You stare at the screen. You don't know what to say. Suddenly, you feel like an ass for throwing away the scone like that. You turn and head back [[towards the coffee shop.|coffeeshop40]]
<<set $scone to true>><<if $scone2 is true>>Eliza stares at you for a long second.
"Okay." She swallows hard. "I'll see you later."
You turn and walk away. You feel like a bitch, but you don't want to contaminate your body with that stupid scone.<</if>>
You get to class a few minutes early. As always. You're arranging your notebooks and pens on your desk when a girl wearing a long skirt and about a million loud necklaces sweeps into the seat next to you. She normally doesn't sit by you. You don't know what made her decide to change seats today.
Until you notice that she's eating a scone. Ugh, the universe is out to get you.
The lecture begins, and you try to ignore her. But you can't ignore that stupid scone. It's chocolate chip, too. You stare at it for way too long, but thankfully the girl doesn't notice.
You want to reach over and grab the scone from her hand. And you hate that you aren't sure if you'd eat it or throw it on the ground.
Maybe you'd still eat it off the ground.
No, you're getting weak. You have to stay strong. It's just a scone. [[You loved scones as a child.]] Chocolate chip scones, to be exact. Eliza knew that. You were the one that turned her on to the chocolate chip scones at the coffee shop.
Was she trying to fuck with you? Mock you for how weak you were?
When class ends, you feel ridiculous for having a glaring contest with a scone for an hour. She didn't even finish it. She throws it away on her way out the door.
[[You stop at the coffee shop on your way to the library.|coffeeshop40]]Your mother would harshly regulate your caloric intake, but at night, in secret, she would give you cookies and cupcakes and scones. It made you feel a little more normal, not like a freak of nature who couldn't control her appetite and needed her mom to control it for her.
She would smile at you, then. It was one of the few times you saw her smile, [[after dad left.|big deal?]]
Eliza isn't there when you go back to the coffee shop. <<if $scone is true>>Your shoulders slump a little bit. You wanted to talk to Eliza, make sure everything was okay. You decide to get coffee. Maybe that will help you think clearer.<</if>> As you stand in line to order a black coffee, you notice a single chocolate scone still in the case.
"Can I get you anything to eat?" The woman behind the counter asks.
1. [["No, thank you. I'm good."|refuse40]]
2. [["Can I just have that chocolate scone?"|scone50]]After paying for your coffee, you go to the library. You are proud of yourself for resisting the scone. But you can't stop picturing Eliza's face.
A snarled ball of too many emotions is scraping into the back of your heart, trying to cut its way inside. You swallow it down and try to focus on your homework.
It was wasteful to throw away that scone. You were overdramatic.
Eliza shouldn't have given it to you in the first place. She knew you didn't want it, so it's her fault.
You play an internal game of tug-of-war. It distracts you from working on your homework. You try to push the thoughts away, get back to the calm and cool zone where you can do anything.
But your brain keeps dragging your attention back to images of the scone, of Eliza's face.
You shake yourself. It was a scone. Why were you tying yourself in knots over a scone? You take a deep breath. You didn't want the scone. You are better than that.
A girl sits down across from you. She has a bag from the coffee shop. At first, you're terrified she's going to have a scone. You're mildly relieved when she pulls out [[a donut.]] She hands you the scone. You feel like you've made a horrible mistake.
You get to the register and pay for the coffee and the scone. It feels like you're bribing the cashier. Please, don't tell anyone I bought this scone, okay?
Especially not the disorder. Then it would just get mad at me.
You leave the coffee shop, holding the bag like it contains a dead rodent.
[[Next|scone51]]You're sitting at a table in the library. Everyone around you has their headphones in. They stare at their laptops and into their textbooks like mindless zombies.
But you feel like they're watching you from the corners of their eyes. Judging you. Judging the stupid scone sitting on the table in front of you. <<if $scone is true>>You took the scone to class with you. You kept it in your backpack, refusing to eat it. But after you got to the library, you had to take the scone out of your bag to get to your textbooks. And now it sits on the table, taunting you.<</if>>
You try to dive into your homework, but your gaze keeps getting dragged back to the scone. It's pure torture. You want to throw it away. But at the same time, something is holding you back.
You want to eat it.
You want to just look at it and prove to yourself that you have perfect control over your body. The temptation can be within reach, and you still won't give in.
1. [[Maybe if you took it out of the bag, it would be less tempting. Less for the imagination, although it's not like you're having vivid fantasies about a scone anyway. That would be absurd.|bag73]]
2. [[You should just throw it away. What's stopping you?|scone62]]You grab the scone and stand up. This is ridiculous. You're a grown ass woman, you shouldn't be falling over yourself about a scone.
You walk over to the garbage can. Hold the bag suspended over it for way too long. People are probably looking at you now, whispering about the cellulite in your ass, how you have back fat. This stupid scone would just make those whispers worse.
Just let it go. Throw it away.
1. [[Throw it away.|scone63]]
2. [[You hold back. You need to test yourself.|scone73]]The scone thuds to the bottom of the garbage can. It's as loud as a gunshot. You turn and go back to your chair. A girl sitting at a chair across from you glances up. She frowns a little as her gaze sweeps over you.
1. [[She's jealous.|jealous63]]
2. [[Did you do something wrong?|wrong63]]You stop yourself from throwing the scone away. You can test your self-control if you keep it, you reason.
You turn and walk back to your chair. It feels like a walk of shame. A few people are looking at you, like you're an animal at a zoo prowling against the edges of her glass enclosure.
You throw the scone down next to your textbook. It makes a loud thump. A girl sitting near you gives you a strange look. You try to ignore it, but it pins you like needles. You sit down and try to resume working on your homework.
Every few minutes, your gaze--and your attention--return to the scone.
1. [[Take it out of the bag.|bag73]]
2. [[Don't touch it.|scone83]]You put your head down. She's jealous of you, of your self-restraint. You threw the uneaten scone away beacuse you have control over your body.
That's why you threw the scone away. Never even took a bite of it.
You are in control.
The girl taps her pen on her notebook. She's staring at your cheeks and jaw.
You look down at your textbook. Let her stare at you.
Let them all stare at you.
[[Next|Day5]]
<<if visited("jealous63") is 1>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem + 2>><<set $weight to $weight - 2>><</if>>She's staring at your cheeks and jaw, a slight furrow in her forehead. Was it odd, what you did? Throwing away an uneaten scone that you had just bought?
Heat rolls through your cheeks. That must've seemed wasteful, to that girl.
Why should you care what a random girl in the library thinks? Maybe she's just jealous. You stare at your textbook, but the words blurr together.
You can't stop thinking about the scone. Some absurd, loud part of you wants to go get the scone from the trash can.
You clutch the textbook until your knuckles turn white, trying to maintain control over yourself.
You feel your heart fluttering, soft and delicate, against your collarbone. Not a strong heartbeat. You are proud of how thin and ephemeral you have become. A sturdy heartbeat would be repulsive, an anchor to this fleshy body.
As you feel your heart, feel it skip a beat, you think of the long, sleepless nights, because you're up at night terrified that your heart will stop beating.
You don't think you want to die. But you have to eat if you don't want to die.
And you're terrified to eat, to pollute your body with calories.
So which scares you more--living without the disorder...or not living at all?
[[Next|Day5]]
<<if visited("wrong63") is 1>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem - 2>><<set $weight to $weight + 2>><</if>><<if $weight <= 75>><<goto [["Death" 1]]>><</if>>
<<if $weight == 76 or $weight == 77 or $weight == 78 or $weight == 79 or $weight == >><<goto [["Death" 3]]>><</if>>
<<if $weight >= 95 and $selfesteem >= 3>><<goto [[Recovery 1]]>><</if>>
<<if $weight == 94 or $weight == 93 or $weight == 92>><<goto [[Recovery 2]]>><</if>>
<<if $weight == 82 or $weight == 81 or $weight == 80>><<goto [[Adaptive 4]]>><</if>>
<<if $weight == 87 or $weight == 86 or $weight == 85 or $weight == 84 or $weight == 83 and $selfesteem <= 2>><<goto [[Adaptive 2]]>><</if>>
<<if $weight == 91 or $weight == 90 or $weight == 89 or $weight == 88>><<goto [[Adaptive 1]]>><</if>>You're just testing yourself. You repeat that to yourself over and over as you take the scone out of the bag. It has a slightly dry, chalky texture. You wipe your hands on your jeans after you set it down.
If you eat the scone, even a tiny piece of you, you know you'll hate yourself. You stare it. It repulses you. The idea of consuming calories makes you want to vomit.
Yet some sick and horrible part of you wants to eat it. All of it. Every crumb.
You hate yourself for wanting it. For wanting to be weak and pollute your veins. Why do you need food? Why can't you just be a pretty flower, living on sunlight and air? You don't want the burdens of being fleshy and big and human--dealing with emotions you hate, having to navigate complex interactions with other people.
You want to be a single flower growing on a hill, far from everyone else.
You want to be far away from this stupid scone that tempts you and makes you hate yourself.
1. [[Eat a small piece.|eat73]]
2. [[You don't need it.|bag83]]You grip your pen to keep yourself from touching the scone.
You hate yourself for wanting it. For wanting to be weak and pollute your veins. Why do you need food? Why can't you just be a pretty flower, living on sunlight and air? You don't want the burdens of being fleshy and big and human--dealing with emotions you hate, having to navigate complex interactions with other people.
You want to be a single flower growing on a hill, far from everyone else.
You want to be far away from this stupid scone that tempts you and makes you hate yourself.
You don't want to spill outside of the neat little lines you've sculpted for yourself. You shouldn't take up space--don't laugh too loud, don't eat too much, don't swear, don't fail. Be perfect. Like coloring inside the lines. You want the colors to be neat and uniform. Not messy.
But it's getting harder and harder to keep the colors solid and separate. They want to bleed into each other, and you hate it.
<<if $weight <= 80>>You put the scone on the floor, so you aren't tempted. The girl sitting across from you watches you like you're a spectacle. She has no right to judge you. You are stronger than her--than everyone. You don't need food. You don't give in to your desires.<<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem + 2>>
<<set $weight to $weight - 2>><<else>>You stare at the scone. Your eyes refuse to stay focused on the textbook. You breathe sharply through your nose. The sound makes the girl look up at you. You drop your head, trying to scrunch into a tiny ball, make yourself small and unnoticeable.
You hate that scone. Every cell in your body is consumed by that scone, filled with hate and--hunger. You want to throw it away, but you can't move, paralyzed by some unknown fear.
You feel the girl watching you. It seems to snap you out of your stupor. You close your textbook, very carefully, very slowly, and climb to your feet.
You walk away. You leave the scone behind.<<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem - 1>><<set $weight to $weight + 1>><</if>>
[[Next|Day5]]You break off a small piece of the scone. It crumbles over the paper bag. You stare at it like it's an insect you caught wandering through your kitchen.
You take a shuddering breath.
The girl across from you glances at you and frowns.
The small piece of the scone stares back at you, a malevolent eye, waiting for you to give in, to be weak.
You hate yourself.
You want it.
You don't want it.
The chunk of scone falls from your fingers and lands in your lap. The girl is glancing at you from the corners of her eyes, like you're a spectacle, a freak.
Do you want to die? You don't think so. You never meant for things to be this way. But you can feel your heart, fluttering, soft, like the wings of a dying butterfly. You press a hand to your clavicle as you stand up.
The world spins like a broken kaledeiscope. All of the blood rushes from your head as you stand up. You don't want to die.
You haven't eaten in days. You stare at the scone.
Not like this. You don't want to die, leave your parents and Janet and Jess and Eliza with nothing but bones to mourn.
With a loud shuffling of papers, you stuff everything into your bag and practically run from the library. You leave the scone behind.
[[Next|Day5]]
<<if visited("eat73") is 1>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem - 1>><<set $weight to $weight + 2>><</if>>You are in control. The scone sits in its bag. You force yourself not to look at it. Not to wonder what it would taste like. You always loved scones as a child. Now, you hate them. You have to.
Your hand tightens around the pen. You breathe harshly through your nose. The dull thud, thud, thud of your heart makes your entire chest hurt. Once, your heartbeat meant you were alive, well, safe. Now, it just meant pain.
You are in control.
Yet something inside of you whispers that you aren't in control. That it's been an illusion this whole time. The best magic trick ever pulled, better than making the Statue of Liberty disappear.
You are in control.
Except you aren't.
You finally shove the scone back in the bag and set it on the floor. Out of sight. The girl sitting across from you is frowning, watching you surreptitiously from her peripherals.
You grip your sanity with both hands, but you're afraid you've been holding onto air this whole time.
[[Next|Day5]]
<<if visited("bag83") is 1>><<set $weight to 102>><<set $selfesteem to 4>><</if>>The girl stuffs the donut into her mouth. Chocolate frosting smears all over her lips.
It sickens you. How many calories are in that donut? How can she just--eat it? She takes a few bites, and the donut is already half gone. You clutch your pen as you listen to her chewing. It's disgusting. You hate it. It reminds you just how human she is.
As she eats, she spreads her textbooks out on the low table in front of her. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and snorts slightly when she sees a text on her screen. She's so loud, so solid, so human. It's annoying. It's disgusting.
You don't want to be like that. Taking up so much room. Being sloppy and big and--real. You are better than that. Ethereal, high, untouchable.
You watch her eat the donut. Too long. She looks up and catches you staring at her. She frowns and shifts uncomfortably in her chair.
You look down at your textbook. Why do you suddenly want a donut?
1. [[You could go down to the coffee shop. You need another coffee anyway.|coffeeshop50]]
2. [[You have to master your urges. If you want to see the number on the scale go down, you have to stay in control.|control100]]You go to the coffee shop. You know it's a bad idea as soon as you see that dreaded glass case again. Although there are thankfully no chocolate scones on display, there are donuts. And you have a strange craving for them in the pit of your stomach.
Hunger doesn't mean much to you anymore. You hear people talk about being hungry, but it doesn't register. You can't relate to the sensation anymore. At least, not in the same way they can.
So you're not exactly--hungry--when you look at the case and see a donut covered in chocolate frosting. You...crave it...in a way that's difficult to describe.
It's an urge you try to squash as you go up to the register to get another black coffee. How many coffees have you had today? Judging by the film coating the inside of your mouth, too many.
"Hi, what can I get you?" The woman behind the counter asks.
1. [["I'll just get a black coffee." You say.|control103]]
2. [["Can I get a coffee and that donut?" You ask.|donut]]Donutgirl continues to chew loudly. You're seconds from screaming and throwing a tantrum to get her to stop. You look around the library. No one else is paying any attention to her. How do they not see her? What a nuisance she's making of herself?
She has big thighs, you notice. There's probably stretch marks under her too-small jeans. Cellulite that jiggles every time she walks. You look down at your legs, so small and graceful and narrow, like the legs of a gazelle.
You don't want to be anything like her. You're happy like this.
She finishes the donut and takes a loud swallow from her cup. Probably some frothy cappucino with hundreds of calories.
You pick up your water bottle and take a few swallows, emptying the container. Water has no calories. It's safe to consume without damaging your body. All you drink nowadays is water, diet pepsi, and coffee. All safe, all have zero calories.
There's a vending machine around the corner. You don't trust yourself to go down to the coffee shop, but you still feel horribly thirsty.
You get up and go to the vending machine. There's a water fountain right next to it.
1. [[Refill the water bottle. Don't bother getting anything else.|control101]]
2. [[You look to the vending machine for something new to drink.|vendingmachine]]You fill the water bottle, internally patting yourself on the back. You're incredibly proud of yourself today for maintaining such good self control.
You go back to your chair. Donutgirl is on her phone. Not studying. Just another indicator that you're better than her.
You put your head down and begin working on your homework. Eventually, Donutgirl puts her phone down and brings out her laptop. She's probably just going on Facebook or something.
You drink your water. For some reason, you keep expecting it to taste like something else. You feel a little hollow, and the water sloshes around inside of you, making you feel heavy and slow. At least it'll pass through your system easily. Donutgirl won't have such an easy time clearing her system.
Today is a fasting day, so you work through lunch. You continue to drink water, and you have to pee like a racehorse a few times. But you don't lose control. Not like Donutgirl, who gets up and leaves. Going to lunch, you're sure.
She's weak. You're strong.
[[Next|Day5]]You stare at the brightly lit buttons for each drink. They have diet pepsi, your drink of choice when coffee makes your mouth feel like an oil slick and water is no longer enough.
But they have a lot of other drinks too. Brightly colored--regular pepsi, Mountain Dew, Orange Crush, Dr. Pepper. So many calories. You remember those traumatic health classes, when the teacher would pass around little vials filled with the pure sugar content of various beverages. It had made you want to be sick, to purge any of those horrible, sugary drinks from your system. You regretted every soda, every juice box, that made your thighs and hips swell from those little granules of sugar.
Still, your molars ache at the thought of drinking a regular pepsi. After years of deprivation, the sweetness would probably be exquisitely strong.
1. [[You get a diet pepsi.|dietpep]]
2. [[You don't get anything.|control102]]You walk back to your chair with the diet pepsi. On the label, it says zero calories. Safe.
<<if $weight < 95>>You glance over at Donutgirl, feeling triumphant. She doesn't acknowledge you. She's probably self-conscious, now, after everything that has happened.
You work on your homework. Today is a fasting day, so you work through lunch. You continue to drink water, and you have to pee like a racehorse a few times. But you don't lose control. Not like Donutgirl, who gets up and leaves. Going to lunch, you're sure.
She's weak. You're strong. <<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem + 2>><<set $weight to $weight - 2>><<else>>You glance over at Donutgirl. She meets your eyes and smiles hesitantly before looking away. You tighten your grip on the Diet Pepsi. You look at her hips and thighs, squeezed into her skinny jeans. She probably lets herself drink whatever soda she wants, and she doesn't care.
You stare down at the Diet Pepsi label. Your stomach tightens like a fist. You have always known you are broken, but you wonder if it's time for the cracks to be mended.
You shake your head and put the soda aside. You are confused, weirdly shaken, by your silent encounter with the Donutgirl. She is everything you don't want to be--big, loud, fleshy and real. Human. You stare down at your much more slender thighs, skinnier than match sticks.
If you rub your legs together, you'll start on fire. You'll be immolated. It might be a relief, to finally feel your skin flake away and vanish into smoke.
You think of Jess, Eliza, your sister Janet, even Adam. Not only will you burn--everyone else will too.
You take a breath, but you feel like there is already smoke filling your lungs.<<set $weight to $weight + 1>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem - 1>><</if>>
[[Next|Day5]]You fill the water bottle, internally patting yourself on the back. You're incredibly proud of yourself today for maintaining such good self control.
You go back to your chair. Donutgirl is on her phone. Not studying. Just another indicator that you're better than her.
You put your head down and begin working on your homework. Eventually, Donutgirl puts her phone down and brings out her laptop. She's probably just going on Facebook or something.
You drink your water. For some reason, you keep expecting it to taste like something else. You feel a little hollow, and the water sloshes around inside of you, making you feel heavy and slow.
<<if $selfesteem > 0>>Today is a fasting day, so you work through lunch. You continue to drink water, and you have to pee like a racehorse a few times. But you don't lose control. Not like Donutgirl, who gets up and leaves. Going to lunch, you're sure.
She's weak. You're strong.<<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem + 2>>
<<set $weight to $weight - 2>><<else>>Today is supposed to be a fasting day. You continue to drink your water, but it isn't satisfying, not anymore. Your stomach gurgles, loud like the waves of an ocean pounding through your abdomen. You feel like your skin is too small to contain all of the feelings inside of you. You shift restlessly in the chair, unable to concentrate on your textbook.
Eventually, Donutgirl gets up and leaves. Probably going to lunch. You don't want to go to lunch. The idea of consuming calories repulses you. But you feel confused, uncertain about yourself. You think of Jess, Eliza, your sister Janet, and the rest of your family. You know you should want to eat, that it shouldn't be this difficult. You should want to get better. But you don't--want to get better.
You try to focus on your schoolwork. But you can't anymore.<<set $weight to $weight + 1>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem - 1>><</if>>
[[Next|Day5]]
You leave the coffee shop for the third time that day. No donut, no scone.
You really are doing good today. You're proud of yourself, but there's a strange hollowness in the pit of your stomach. You didn't think you'd ever progress so far down this path. It started as counting calories. Occasionally skipping meals. Weighing yourself every week. And then every other day. And then every day.
And now multiple times a day.
It crept in slowly, like an addiction, fastening itself into every cell of your body with hooks you didn't feel. It controls your insides, pulling, twisting, tightening, holding you in its grasp. If you fail to feed the addiction, you hurt--you hate yourself, the hooks pulling taut, making living in your own skin unbearable.
You return to your seat in the library. The donutgirl is gone. You stare at the spot where she sat. You feel empty inside, and you lovehate it.
[[Next|Day5]]The donutgirl is still sitting there when you get back. You put the donut on the corner of your table. Why did you buy it? You tell yourself you did it to test your resolve, test your ability to resist temptation that's right under your nose.
You aren't sure you believe yourself.
The donut draws your eyes--and attention--like a magnetic every few seconds. You are stronger than this.
You can resist the temptation.
1. [[Take it out of the bag.|bag93]]
2. [[Don't touch it.|donut83]]You're just testing yourself. You repeat that to yourself over and over as you take the scone out of the bag. It is thick and moist between your fingers. You wipe your hands on your jeans after you set it down.
If you eat the donut, even a tiny piece of you, you know you'll hate yourself. You stare it. It repulses you. The idea of consuming calories makes you want to vomit.
Yet some sick and horrible part of you wants to eat it. All of it. Every crumb.
You hate yourself for wanting it. For wanting to be weak and pollute your veins. Why do you need food? Why can't you just be a pretty flower, living on sunlight and air? You don't want the burdens of being fleshy and big and human--dealing with emotions you hate, having to navigate complex interactions with other people.
You want to be a single flower growing on a hill, far from everyone else.
You want to be far away from this stupid donut that tempts you and makes you hate yourself.
1. [[Eat a small piece.|eat75]]
2. [[You don't need it.|bag103]]You grip your pen to keep yourself from touching the donut.
You hate yourself for wanting it. For wanting to be weak and pollute your veins. Why do you need food? Why can't you just be a pretty flower, living on sunlight and air? You don't want the burdens of being fleshy and big and human--dealing with emotions you hate, having to navigate complex interactions with other people.
You want to be a single flower growing on a hill, far from everyone else.
You want to be far away from this stupid donut that tempts you and makes you hate yourself.
You don't want to spill outside of the neat little lines you've sculpted for yourself. You shouldn't take up space--don't laugh too loud, don't eat too much, don't swear, don't fail. Be perfect. Like coloring inside the lines. You want the colors to be neat and uniform. Not messy.
But it's getting harder and harder to keep the colors solid and separate. They want to bleed into each other, and you hate it.
<<if $weight <= 95>>You put the donut on the floor, so you aren't tempted. The girl sitting across from you watches you like you're a spectacle. She has no right to judge you. You are stronger than her--than everyone. You don't need food. You don't give in to your desires.<<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem + 2>>
<<set $weight to $weight - 2>><<else>>You stare at the donut. Your eyes refuse to stay focused on the textbook. You breathe sharply through your nose. The sound makes Donutgirl look up at you. You drop your head, trying to scrunch into a tiny ball, make yourself small and unnoticeable.
You hate that donut. Every cell in your body is consumed by that donut, filled with hate and--hunger. You want to throw it away, but you can't move, paralyzed by some unknown fear.
You feel Donutgirl watching you. It seems to snap you out of your stupor. You close your textbook, very carefully, very slowly, and climb to your feet.
You walk away. You leave the donut behind.<<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem - 1>><<set $weight to $weight + 1>><</if>>
[[Next|Day5]]You break off a small piece of the donut. You stare at it like it's an insect you caught wandering through your kitchen.
You take a shuddering breath.
The girl across from you glances at you and frowns.
The small piece of the donut stares back at you, a malevolent eye, waiting for you to give in, to be weak.
You hate yourself.
You want it.
You don't want it.
The chunk of donut falls from your fingers and lands in your lap. The girl is glancing at you from the corners of her eyes, like you're a spectacle, a freak.
Do you want to die? You don't think so. You never meant for things to be this way. But you can feel your heart, fluttering, soft, like the wings of a dying butterfly. You press a hand to your clavicle as you stand up.
The world spins like a broken kaledeiscope. All of the blood rushes from your head as you stand up.
You haven't eaten in days. You stare at the scone.
With a loud shuffling of papers, you stuff everything into your bag and practically run from the library. You leave the donut behind.
[[Next|Day5]]
<<if visited("eat75") is 1>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem - 1>><<set $weight to $weight + 2>><</if>>You are in control. The donut sits in its bag. You force yourself not to look at it. Not to wonder what it would taste like.
Your hand tightens around the pen. You breathe harshly through your nose. The dull thud, thud, thud of your heart makes your entire chest hurt. Once, your heartbeat meant you were alive, well, safe. Now, it just meant pain.
You are in control.
<<if $weight >= 100>>Yet something inside of you whispers that you aren't in control. That it's been an illusion this whole time. The best magic trick ever pulled, better than making the Statue of Liberty disappear.
You are in control.
Except you aren't.
You finally shove the donut back in the bag and set it on the floor. Out of sight. The girl sitting across from you is frowning, watching you surreptitiously from her peripherals.
You grip your sanity with both hands, but you're afraid you've been holding onto air this whole time.<<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem - 2>><<set $weight to $weight - 1>><<else>>You are in control.
You are in control.
It's a meditation, each word wrapping around your heart, soothing it's frantic pace. You sink your nails into your sanity, dragging it close to you, wrapping it around you like a blanket.
You are in control. You've always been in control. No matter what anyone tells you.
You are in control.<<set $weight to $weight - 2>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem + 1>><</if>>
[[Next|Day5]]By Annie Zinnen
[[Weigh yourself.|weight]]
[[About]]
[[Eating Disorder Resources]]
[[Contact]]Your parents had freaked out. It had meant adding a fifth year to your undergrad career, to catch up on the necessary classes. But you didn't regret it. Not after seeing what the vets could do for the [[puppy mill dogs.|skipclass]]
"It'll be another year before you graduate?" Your dad's voice grates through the speaker of your cell phone.
"I, yeah, I mean, it's what I want to do--"
"Do you know how much your mother and I already spend on your tuition? If you decide to do this, you're paying for the fifth year on your own."
"Dad, I--"
"Why don't you go to the financial aid office and find out about more scholarship opportunities? There's gotta be a ton of scholarships out there, and you aren't taking advantage of them."
"Sure."
"I wish you would have thought more about your major before you went to school. And it's not like there's anything wrong with a business degree. Your cousins both have business degrees, and they didn't need to get more schooling to get their jobs."
"It's not...what I'm passionate about."
"Well, your passion is expensive. I'm sorry, Claire, but you're on your own for vet school too. Your mom and I can't help you with that."
"I-I understand. I'm sorry."
He sighs heavily. You tighten your grip on the phone.
"You just need to--think more, Claire."
[["Okay."|bikepath]]You close your computer. You take a breath, trying to steady yourself. You feel like you're walking along the edge of a cliff, and you want to look over the edge even though you know it's wrong.
Your cell phone dings next to you. You glance over. [[Your mother]] is calling you. You chew your lower lip.
1. [[You don't feel like talking to her right now. You want to take a shower and work on your homework.|adaptive8]]
2. [[You should answer. It's been a few days since you talked to her.|answer70]]
<<set $mom to false>>You have a good relationship with your mother, but she's always been closer to Janet and your brother Jon than she has been to you. Janet and Jon confide in her, but you've never felt as comfortable exposing the dark, grimy corners of your soul to her. For some reason, you always felt like she was silently judging every decision you made.
When you were a child, she was overbearing--micromanaged your school work, your social life, your job, your clothes and hair styles, even the books you were allowed to read (up until you got an e-reader and she couldn't keep track of what you read anymore). You love her dearly, and you know she'll always be there for you and love you with all of her heart.
When you went off to college, you called her every day on the phone. She was a bastion of support, warmth, and familiarity. She came to school every weekend that first month, even though it was a two hour drive, because she knew how hard the transition was for you. She supported you, all through those tough days, when you felt absolutely alone and like a total failure. Why couldn't you make friends as quickly as everyone else did? She made you feel special and loved.
You never felt closer to your mother than you did your freshman year of college. But then sophomore year came around and you started to drift apart a little bit as Janet's life started to take off. Your phone calls became fewer and fewer. You saw her less and less. You still talk to her at least twice a week, but it's just--[[not the same.|cellcall]]"Hey, mom." You say.
"Hey, babycakes!" Your mom chirps.
"How're you?"
"I'm good. How about you? How did you bio test go?"
"Oh, I don't know, I think I got a few things wrong, but I got at least a B."
"Hey, a B is great," she says. "And I'm sure you got an A. You always get A's. You're a smarty pants."
"Thanks, mom."
"I'm proud of you, baby. I hope you know that. Even if you got an F."
1. [[Tell her about classes, your boyfriend Derek, Jess, the normal stuff.|normalcall]]
2. [["Hey, mom, I'm kinda...I don't know, I'm feeling kinda weird lately." You say.|honestcall]]When you hear your mom's voice, your brain supplies a memory of the smell of her perfume and the constant aroma of baked goods that seems to surround her like a halo. You haven't seen your mom in a while. You could use a hug right about now.
Still, you hold back--as you always do. You shield those vulnerable parts of yourself, even from your mother.
"I'll need to come and visit you soon." Your mom says.
1. [["It's okay, I know you're busy with work right now." You don't want her to visit right now.|visit20]]
2. [[`"Yeah, I'm free this weekend if you wanted to come up."`|visit25]]"Is everything okay?"
"I...I don't know."
"Honey, you know you can talk to me."
"I've just...you know, it's kinda been like freshman year lately." You take a deep breath. You immediately regret showing your vulnerability to her.
You can hear her breathing on the other end of the line.
"Are you eating enough?"
"Of course, mom! I guess I've just--had some anxiety lately, about school and stuff. And maybe that's why I feel weird. I'm just stressed out."
"Just make sure you're eating enough. You scared me when you lost all that weight your first semester of freshman year."
"I'm a stress-not-eater."
"Claire."
"Mom, I've just been nervous lately, okay? It's really not that big of a deal. I just, I don't know, I wanted to get it off my chest."
"Okay. As long as you're being honest with me, Claire Elizabeth. You're sure everything is alright?"
1. [["Yes, mom. I'm sure."|lie100]]
2. "No.""Well, I miss your face," she says. "I'm glad I finally figured out The Snapchat, because I love seeing your selfies every morning."
She pauses and takes a breath.
"You are looking awful skinny right now, though. Are you eating enough?"
"Of course, mom! I've been a little nervous lately, so it's kinda like freshman year all over again, but everything's okay."
"Just make sure you're eating enough. You scared me when you lost all that weight your first semester of freshman year."
"I'm a stress-not-eater."
"Okay." Your mom doesn't sound convinced. "Sure you don't want me to come up this weekend?"
1. [["I'm fine, mom!"|visit30]]
2. [["If you think you have the time, I guess it's okay."|visit25]]You and your mom arrange to get lunch on Saturday. After you hang up the phone, a surge of panic punches through your gut. You rest your head in your hands. When she sees you, she's going to know something is wrong. Your mother has stellar momtuition, at least where you're concerned. Janet and Jon have always been able to get away with more than you. You think it's because you're the youngest, the baby, the one that needs to be protected.
You take a deep breath. Hopefully Saturday is [[painless.|visit35]]"Well, you know I'm here. I'm just a phone call and a car ride away."
"I know, mom. I love you."
"I love you, too."
You chat for a little while longer. Eventually, the conversation winds down and you tell her you'll talk to her later.
You feel like you've just avoided disaster. And yet, at the same time, you wish that somehow the conversation had gone differently than it did.
[[Next|adaptive11.1]]
<<if visited("visit30") is 1>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem + 2>><<set $happiness to $happiness + 2>><<set $weight to $weight - 1>><</if>>Your eyeliner looks like shit and your mascara is clumpy. You're nervous about getting lunch with your mom. You purposely wore about five sweaters to cover up how thin you've gotten. She wouldn't understand.
No one does.
You sit in the living room, staring at the blank TV screen. You're arms are knotted over your chest, and you can't focus on anything else. Your performance today will need to be perfect. You will sweep out onto that stage and give an Oscar-worthy performance. Your mom can't suspect anything.
You're supposed to meet up in two hours. But you can't think about anything else. Your knee bounces up and down. You're glad Jess isn't here to see you sitting there like a demon-possessed freak.
Your phone buzzes. You pick it up. Your mom is calling.
"Hello?" You answer after a brief pause to compose yourself.
"Hey, honey." Your mom sounds upset. "I'm so sorry to do this to you, but I'm having car problems and Logan thinks we have to go to the shop to get it looked at. I don't think I'll be able to make it up this weekend. Your stepdad needs his car today to use the trailer hitch for some landscaping project or I promise I'd be there."
She seems like she's near tears.
You take a deep breath through your nose. You shouldn't feel relieved. You shouldn't.
"It's okay, mom." You say. "Really, it's fine. I'll see you on fall break in two weeks anyway."
"It's been so long since I've seen you." She sighs heavily. "I miss you, baby. Maybe I'll talk to Logan again and see if he can postpone this stupid landscaping project."
"No, no, it's fine! Really, mom. I'll just work on homework or something."
"I love you so much, Claire. I'm sorry I couldn't come up today."
"Really, it's okay, mom."
You spend a few more minutes reassuring her that everything is fine.
You shouldn't be relieved.
But you are.
[[Next|monday]]
<<if visited("visit35") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight + 1>><</if>>It's Monday morning. Your mom has been texting you all weekend. You do really miss her. Especially her hugs.
You send her your daily snapcht, careful to disguise the sharpness of your cheekbones with filters and a precise angle.
[[A text rings on your phone as you work on your homework.|adaptive18]]
"Do you want me to come up and see you this weekend, honey? I have time."
"No, no, it's okay, mom." You wish you had never said anything.
"I hope you know how much I love you, Claire, and that I'm here if you ever need to talk about anything. Anything at all. I'm your mother. I'll always be on your team."
You swallow hard.
"I know, mom. I love you, too. I promise I'm okay."
"You can talk to me, Claire."
1. [["I just feel like I've been having a...hard time lately," you admit.|truth100]]
2. [["I always tell you what's going on, mom. I would let you know if there was something wrong," you say.|lie101]]"As long as you're okay, sweetie. I just want you to be happy."
"I didn't mean to scare you, mom. I don't know, sometimes I just get sad, you know that."
"I know," your mom says. "You just gotta remember all the reasons you have to be a grateful. You have a great life, Claire. Don't dwell on the sad things."
"I won't." You lie.
The truth is locked behind your teeth, and saying it would be like ripping out your molars with your fingernails. You can't summon the courage to say it out loud.
When you hang up the phone, you know your mom is no longer suspicious. You threw down the 'sad' card, a guaranteed way to mitigate her concern. You were always a little bit of a melancholic child, and you would cry a lot. Saying that you're sad has always been code for 'I'm okay, just a little over emotional right now.'
You aren't sure if you're happy that you threw her off the trail. Part of you is relieved she didn't confront you. And another quieter part of you wishes you could have told her the truth. Just this one time.
[[Next|monday]]
<<if visited("lie101") is 1>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem - 2>><<set $happiness to $happiness - 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 1>><</if>>"What do you mean, honey?"
"I'm just--sad a lot lately, I guess."
"You have so much to be grateful for, Claire," your mom insists. "You're beautiful, you're smart, you have so many friends. You live in a lovely apartment with a great roommate, and you are going to be so successful after you graduate from college. You have such a bright future."
At a surface level, you recognize all of those things. You should be grateful for the life you lead. There are people in the world have so much less. What [[terrible thing]] has ever happened to you that you have to be this way? Why can't you just be normal?
Except it's not that simple. You know it's not. But no one else does. They tell you to just eat a fucking sandwich, stop being so mopey this is a middle class white girl problem and you should be ashamed of yourself for being so selfish there are people in the world who don't have access to clean water--
"You have so much to be happy about. Don't dwell on the sad things. Just...be happy. There's no point dwelling on the sad stuff, you hear me?" Her voice gets a little pitchy as she talks.
Be happy.
Be normal.
1. [["I'll--try."]]
2. [["It's not that simple, mom."|plead]]You weren't abused as a child. You have a good relationship with your mom. You and your dad aren't very close, not since the divorce. But he's never done anything to hurt you. Your sister Janet and your brother Jon are just--perfect.
You grew up in a nice house in a friendly if snobby neighborhood. You were able to go to the college of your choice. You didn't get bullied in high school. No one has ever hurt you, not in a Big--capital B--and Terrible--capital T--kind of way. Your life experiences don't total up to equal the magical threshold to mental instability. Everyone seems to think you need to earn a certain disorders. You need to be traumatized, abused, torn down. You can't live a normal life and have a disorder.
You don't have any traumas in your past. No uncle who touched you inappropriately, no bullies who shoved you in the hallways, no nasty ex who spread naked pictures of you and humiliated you to your peers. Nothing. Just your parents' shitty divorce, but a lot of kids go through that and don't end up broken.
You're normal. Too normal. You can't be sick. [[You have no reason to be.|truth100]]"Don't you think that's a little tight?"
"I don't know, it's a little short."
"I don't like that color on you."
You hated clothing shopping with your mother. You dreaded shuffling out of the changing room, because she always had a comment. She poked, poked, poked you with her needle sharp words, tearing holes in you.
Your body wasn't yours. [[It belonged to everyone who looked at you.|adaptive10]]"Don't you think that's a little tight?"
"I don't know, it's a little short."
"I don't like that color on you."
You hated clothing shopping with your mother. You dreaded shuffling out of the changing room, because she always had a comment. She poked, poked, poked you with her needle sharp words, tearing holes in you.
Your body wasn't yours. [[It belonged to everyone who looked at you.|adaptive14]]Derek: Do you want to go to dinner with me?
1. [[Claire: I really need to finish this homework.|evade33]]
2. [[Claire: Yeah, sure.|dinner]]You are currently $weight pounds.
<<back "Too Many">>Derek: It's been a while since we've gone on a date. Come on, babe, take a break!
1. [[Claire: I just really need to work on this.|evade43]]
2. [[Claire: I guess I can take a break.|dinner]]Derek: Come onnnnnnn
Claire: I really shouldn't, Derek.
Derek: Stop being so boring! Live a little ;)
1. [[Claire: I'll talk to you later, Derek.|evade53]]
2. [[Claire: Okay, fine. I'll go to dinner.|dinner]]You set your phone on airplane mode and throw it across the bed. How long have you and Derek been together? A few weeks, you think. Not long enough to [[say I love you.]]
Jess and Eliza don't like Derek that much. He still hasn't met your parents or your siblings, because part of you is afraid that they'll see through his thin veneer of fratboy charm and realize what a, well, what a jerk he is.
You haven't had many boyfriends. You had a serious relationship for two years in high school, but it ended badly when he cheated on you with a friend of yours. You'd gone on a few dates freshman and sophomore year of college, mostly because Jess and Eliza had forced various suitors upon you. Derek was your first legitimate boyfriend since high school.
Derek is handsome. It made you feel kind of good about yourself to attract someone who looked like him. It must've meant you were desirable, pretty. At least a little. So you put up with the sharp comments about how flabby your arms were, the weird texts you saw from other girls on his phone.
It was wrong and sick and stupid. You knew, on an objective level, that tying your self-worth to a relationship with a cute boy was all kinds of idiotic. But you let yourself be pulled along by his charisma, convincing yourself that you were just overthinking it like you always did.
You try not think about Derek as you work on your homework. Your mind is still a little cloudy, and you feel a yawning emptiness in your gut.
1. [[Check the scale. Maybe you can afford to eat today and still feel good.|consideration2]]
2. [[No, you'll just feel too heavy if you eat something. If you don't eat, you'll feel good and that will make studying easier.|control50]]
<<if visited("evade53") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 1>><</if>>You can't picture yourself ever telling Derek you love him. Jess drunkenly told you and Eliza that every boy you date from here on out is someone you'll either marry or break up with. You could never marry Derek. Your relationship is [[already a foregone conclusion.|evade53]]You have volunteered at Bichon & Friends, a local puppy mill rescue shelter, since your freshman year of college. To fulfill your high school volunteering requirements, you had worked at a puppy mill rescue shelter near your house. At first, you hadn't thought much of the obligation--just rolled your eyes at another stupid attempt by your principal to enforce the community ideals your high school was supposedly founded upon.
And then after your first shift at the shelter, you left crying. You far and exceeded your high school volunteering requirement, because you couldn't stay away. Any spare moment you had after school or on weekends--when you weren't working on homework--was dedicated to the shelter.
Although you couldn't volunteer as much anymore, now that you were in college, you still dedicated at least two weekends a month to Bichon & Friends, with the occasional weekday thrown in.
You absolutely love volunteering at the shelter and you wish you could [[dedicate more time to it.|adaptive19]]After working in puppy mill rescues for almost four years, you find that the thing that strikes you most is how eager some of the dogs are for human affection, even after years of neglect and outright abuse. Despite having never been shown a bit of compassion in their lives, so many of the dogs still fall over themselves to greet you and get head scratches. You hate to think of anyone hurting these dogs, and it makes you sick to your stomach to think of the animals that still continue to suffer outside of Bichon & Friends. Miranda and Jaime work hard to save as many dogs as they can, but [[it will still never be enough.|adaptive19]]Except that doesn't work. You know it doesn't. Some people can just--fix themselves. They can put themselves back together, picking up all the pieces easily and carefully gluing it back into place. But you--you're too scared to even touch the pieces. They're sharp and don't fit together. There's all kinds of tiny pieces you can't even find. They might be gone altogether.
You don't know how to say that to your mom. You don't think she'd understand. She's a 'pick yourself up by your boot straps' kind of lady. There's nothing wrong with that. That's just not who you are.
You move past this snag in the conversation. You don't want to talk about it anymore, because it's clear your mother just--doesn't understand.
When you hang up the phone, you are a little relieved. You didn't have to probe any raw wounds. But part of you--part of you wishes you'd said something. Told her the truth. Made her understand.
[[Next|monday]]
<<if visited("I'll--try.") is 1>><<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem - 2>><<set $happiness to $happiness - 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 1>><</if>>"Don't be so dramatic, Claire," your mom sounds exasperated. You've tried to have this conversation with her before. It never goes well.
"I'm not being dramatic, mom. I just...I think a little differently, you know?"
Your mom is silent for a long moment.
"You can change how you think. You don't have to--to be so mopey all the time. You focus so much on the negative, and I just want you to be happy."
"Life isn't puppies and kittens and rainbows. I can't just--repress--"
"Don't try to act like you're smarter than me, Claire. I've lived a perfectly happy life by just focusing on the positive. It's not repressive, it's being strong and resilient. You don't have to overthink everything."
Your clammy fingers curl into the cell phone. You squeeze your eyes shut.
"I can get you in to talk to the family doctor, if that would make you feel better. To talk to someone." She sounds stiff.
"N-no, it's fine." You don't feel like talking to her anymore. "Listen, mom, I have to go. To--work on some homework."
"Claire," your mom takes a deep breath. "I understand, you know. I was a kid once too. And everyone...goes through things like this. And I know you're strong enough to pull through it, because that's how your father and I raised you. It might seem all dark and confusing now, but I know you can get through it. And I'm always here for you, honey. I love you, with all of my heart."
You feel tears crest in your eyes. You stare down at your bony hands. Squeezing the phone between your head and you shoulder, you reach down to pull the sleeves of your shirt over your hands.
"I know, mom. I love you too."
The conversation moves beyond that unpleasant topic, to other things. Nicer, easier things.
And you wish--you wish for once you'd had the courage to stand up and say something.
[[Next|monday]]
<<set $weight to $weight + 1>>
<<set $happiness to $happiness - 2>>
<<set $selfesteem to $selfesteem - 1>>"Are you in control?" He asks. "Are you really?"
"Yes," you say. You feel the word in your mouth, and it feels jagged and sharp. "Yes, I am in control."
"You're not. I'll tell you that right now." He swallows hard. "I thought I was in control too. Until I ended up in the hospital and almost died. Is that what it's going to take to get you to see it? Almost dying?"
"I'm not dying."
"You are," he says. "It's the slowest death imaginable, and you don't even see it."
"It's not the same thing that you had to deal with."
"You're dying." He says. You flinch away from him like he struck you. "Do you want to die?"
You think about it for a moment. You don't want to die. The idea of closing your eyes and never opening them again makes you sick.
"No."
"I don't know if that's true, considering the path you're going down." He says.
1. [["What if I can't get better?"|fear50]]
2. [["Where do I even start to get better?"|desperation50]]"Better?" He laughs and it sounds like razor blades. "Alcoholism is a lifetime committment. I'm never going to be 'better.' Never going to get back to the place I was before. But I want to live, Claire, so I choose to get treatment and follow the plan they give me, even if it kills me to have to feel so much. I'm going to a therapist now, and we are--working through--everything that makes me think I'm such an undeserving piece of shit."
You look at him.
"How do you do it?" You ask.
"I don't want to die."
"That's it? Just to survive?"
"No," he sighs. "I said that wrong. I don't want to die--because I want to be alive to have a future. To finish school and have a career in something I care about. To find someone and get married and have kids. To make my grandparents happy. I can't do any of that if I'm dead."
You both watch Somers and Autumn prance ahead.
"Don't you want all of that?" He asks. "A career? A family? Happiness?"
You aren't sure what you want anymore. You've been so focused on this--your weight and how it correlates to your happiness--that you haven't given much thought to anything else. You just like how you feel when you don't eat.
People like you when you don't eat.
You don't know if you can ever let that go.
"I haven't thought about the future in a long time," you admit. "It just seems--hazy."
He doesn't reply.
"Just think about what I'm saying, Claire. You deserve to be happy, I hope you know that. You deserve to live. Don't let yourself believe anything different."
[[Next|cont25]]
<<if visited("plead20") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight + 1>><</if>>"That's not true at all." Janet digs her fingers into your hand. "You deserve to be happy. Why wouldn't you? You're a good person. You've dedicated how many hours to that dog shelter? And you've always been so supportive and sweet!"
Her eyes water a little bit as she clings to your hand.
"I'm glad you're my sister. I love you, and I want you to get better."
You look down at her slim, elegant fingers, so pale against your own hand. She's so beautiful and good. You're jealous of her, of course. She's too perfect. But you could never bring yourself to hate her.
You turn your hand up and she laces her fingers through yours. You want to cry.
Someone finally understands.
Someone finally cares.
"It's hard to fight it. The bad feelings." You say.
"I know," Janet squeezes your hand. "It hurts so much. But we can fight it. Together?"
You chew on your lower lip.
[["I'll think about it," you say.|Day4]]
<<if visited("confess200") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight - 3>><</if>>You pull your hand away. She's too close, you think. She understands you too well, and you don't want her to.
"Promise me that you will," Janet insists. "Please. I'm worried about you, too."
"Don't worry about me," you say. "I'll get there."
"You should get treatment too." She says. "I want you to get better. You have to get better."
"I will." You're starting to feel defensive. "I'll think about it, okay? I don't think I'm ready yet."
Janet stares at you.
"You might not get a chance to ever be 'ready.'" She says. "You should get treatment as soon as possible."
"I'm not ready," you tuck your hand in your lap. "Okay? But I promise I'll think about it."
"I don't want you to waste time." She extends a hand to you. "It might mean...life or--"
"I don't want to talk about this anymore."
Janet blinks. She looks like she's about to cry. You feel guilty for making her so upset.
"I promise I'll be okay, Janet." You say, but you aren't sure if you're lying anymore.
"Just...promise me, Claire." Janet's cheeks are pale like porcelain. "Think about it."
[["Okay," you finally say.|Day4]]
<<if visited("evade200") is 1>><<set $weight to $weight + 2>><</if>>You hate the sounds of eating. You have vivid memories of sitting at the dinner table with your parents, everyone sitting quietly as they ate. Fork tines scraping against porcelain plates, loud, wet chewing, the thud of cups being placed back on the table. Each small sound echoed between you, your parents, your brother and sister, defining the stark, cold edges of the cavernous space that stretches between all of you. Only a few feet separated you from your mom and your dad and Janet and Jon, but there are galaxies stuffed into that dining room, pushing you as far apart as you [[possibly could be.|diet]]You stand next to your mother in the grocery store, staring down at your new sparkly purple sandals. The bottoms are still stiff and hard, and your mom had warned you that the straps might dig in to your heels since they were brand new. You didn't care. As soon as you saw these shoes on a high-up shelf in the store, you had practically begged your mom to buy them for you.
You're glad you went with your mom to the mall and you have these pretty new shoes, but now you have to sit through grocery shopping and it's so boring. You kick at a random bead rolling across the dusty tiles.
Your mom is taking a long time looking at all the yogurt cartons. You glance up at her. She keeps picking up different cartons, examining the labels, and then putting them back. And then she picks them up again.
"What're you looking at, mom?" You ask.
"The nutrition information," she says. "It's important to look at the nutrition information to make sure you aren't eating foods with too much sugar or fat or calories."
"Oh." You frown. "What are, uh, calories?"
"It's just the stuff in food that can make you gain weight," she replies. She picks up two yogurt cartons. "See this? This yogurt has over 200 calories. But this yogurt only has 100 calories. So this yogurt is better. You always want the food with the lowest calorie count."
[["Oh. Okay."|studying]]Your dad looks at your report card at the kitchen table. He scrubs a hand over the stubble at his jaw. You wring your hands behind your back.
"Looks like you had a pretty solid semester, Claire," he says. "It's still just those science classes you have to try harder in."
You want to scream at him. You do try, you try so hard in your stupid science classes. You felt like you had to claw your way to that B. You ask for Jon's help with your homework, you stayed up late to study for your test, you talk to the teacher after school to get additional tutoring.
But your dad doesn't care about any of that. He just sees the little letters on your report card, and that's all that matters.
"You'll get there, kid." He folds the report card up and puts it back on the counter.
"Okay."
"Just ask Jon and Janet for help. [[They did really well in their science classes.|panic3]]"<<if $Derek == -4 or $Derek == -3 or $Derek == -2 or $Derek == -1>><<goto [[Derek 1]]>><</if>>
<<if $Derek == 0 or $Derek == 1 or $Derek == 2>><<goto [[Derek 2]]>><</if>>
<<if $Derek >= 3>><<goto [[Derek 3]]>><</if>>You're not an idiot. The infrequent texts, the bland conversations when you're together, the lack of interest in going on a date that requires any more effort than sitting on a couch and turning on Netflix.
Over Thanksgiving break, you exchanged maybe four or five texts with your boyfriend. You told him you missed him. And you saw that he had read it--and he never replied.
You were at a house party last weekend with Jess and Eliza. Someone had taped garbage bags over the windows so the strobe lights wouldn't shine out onto the street. It reeked of beer and sweat and cheap perfume. Bad EDM music made the house vibrate like a giant heart caught in a violent heart attack. Red and blue and green lights swirled around you, and you felt stuck, like you were trapped on a demonic merry-go-round. Your skin has settled over your bones like a thin layer of dust, and a small breeze could make you fall apart.
You stood with Jess and Eliza in the kitchen. You didn't want to go into the basement, a seething pit of gyrating bodies and loud music. You held a beer, condensation slicking your fingertips.
The front door opened, and Derek walked in. You hadn't known he was coming to the party tonight. You haven't talked much lately.
1. [[You pretended that you hadn't seen him.|derek1.2]]
2. [[You decided that you needed to talk to him.|derekconvo]]If you could classify your relationship with Derek as a color, it would be grey. Muted. Bland. Never the center of attention. Not quite white, not quite black. No emotions you feel anymore in regards to Derek are vivid or intense. They're just--there. Soft and distant, like fog.
You and Derek are...fine. That's the best word to use. Not good. Not bad. Just fine. F-i-n-e.
You went with Derek to a house party last weekend. Eliza and her flavor of the week (one of Derek's friends) tagged along, and Jess proudly acted as the fifth wheel. Derek went and talked to his frat brothers for a while. Eliza and Jess danced like strippers. You stood in the corner and drank a few bottles of Bud light.
Someone had taped garbage bags over the windows so the strobe lights wouldn't shine out onto the street. It reeked of beer and sweat and cheap perfume. Bad EDM music made the house vibrate like a giant heart caught in a violent heart attack. Red and blue and green lights swirled around you, and you felt stuck, like you were trapped on a demonic merry-go-round. Your skin has settled over your bones like a thin layer of dust, and a small breeze could make you fall apart.
You watched Derek and Jess and Eliza and her guy friend. When Derek came over to ask if you needed anything, you wanted to scream. He was such a blandly good boyfriend.
1. [["I'm fine," you said. You didn't want to start this conversation right now.|derek 2.2]]
2. [["Is everything good with us?" You asked.|derek3.2]]Lately, things have been...good...with Derek. Not great. But you are willing to keep investing time into the relationship. Maybe for the wrong reasons. Derek makes you hate yourself less, because his admiration and attention vindcate how attractive you are. He even made a comment the other day about how thin you were. He said he liked it. You and Derek have been intimate more lately, and you think that might be why. He thinks you're pretty.
<<if $Adamlike is true>> There's someone else you're interested in, but you aren't sure if you're ready to leave the relative safety of the relationship with Derek.<</if>>
You're okay with how things are. [[And that has to be enough.|Day4]]You turned away. Derek didn't see you.
You looked up and noticed Eliza staring at you with slanted brows. She played with the label on her beer bottle.
"Is everything okay with you and Derek?" Eliza asked.
1. [["No. I think I'm going to break up with him soon."|breakup1.2]]
2. [["Everything is okay."|lie1.2]] "I'll be right back," you said to Jess and Eliza. You didn't wait for them to acknowledge you. You had already turned and started heading towards Derek.
He still didn't see you. You watched as girl wearing a crop top--in this weather?--and skinny jeans hugged him. Her waist was tiny under the fluttery hem of her crop top. You could see the outline of her ribs.
"Hey," you had to shout to be heard over the music. Derek flinched as he looked at you. "I didn't know you would be here."
"What're you doing here?" Derek asked at the same time.
"I'm here with Jess and Eliza."
"Oh. Cool." He shifted his weight from foot to foot. Even though the music was blasting and shouted converastions were whirling all around you, an awkward silence somehow managed to descend between both of you.
1. [["I'll talk to you later." You decided to walk away. This was the wrong place and time to have this converastion.|derekconvo2]]
2. [["I haven't heard from you much lately."|derekconfrontation]]"Oh, I'm sorry," Eliza reached out and touched your shoulder. You forced yourself not to flinch out from under her hand. You didn't want to hurt Eliza's feelings. She's always been more sensitive than Jess, and the smallest words and actions can leave bruises down to her bones.
"It's okay. I'll get over it."
You ended up breaking up with him the next day. It was [[pretty much mutual.|Day4]]"I don't know what you see in him," Jess said. "He's a total fuck boy."
"Jess!" Eliza shook her head.
"What? It's true." Jess rolled her eyes. "I'm going to get another beer. Do you guys want one?"
"No, I'm okay." Eliza said.
"I'm fine," you added.
Jess walked away. Eliza glanced over at you, her limpid blue eyes wide and owlish. The strobe lights glazed the whites of her eyes, blue and red and green.
"I'm really okay, Eliza," you said. "Don't worry about me."
"I'm here for you, if you need anything." She reached out and touched your shoulder. You forced yourself not to flinch out from under her hand. You didn't want to hurt Eliza's feelings. She's always been more sensitive than Jess, and the smallest words and actions can leave bruises down to her bones.
"Okay." You took a sip of your beer.
The next day, Derek broke up with you. You cried over it and spent the night at Eliza's dorm. [[You think you cried for the wrong reasons.|Day4]]
<<set $Derekbreakup2 to true>>"Yeah, I'll see you later." Derek immediately turned away from you to talk to the skinny girl in the crop top. A cold chill went down your spine, like icicles being tapped against your vertebrae.
You walked back over to Jess and Eliza, who witnessed the whole embarassing moment. Your cheeks were hot and flushed, and you sucked down more of your beer to try and numb the hot swirl of emotions spilling through your ribcage.
"Is everything okay with you and Derek?" Eliza asked.
1. [["No. I think I'm going to break up with him soon."|breakup1.2]]
2. [["Everything is okay."|lie1.2]] "I've been busy lately. With homework and stuff." Derek said. "You haven't been texting me much lately either."
Your chest tightened, your ribs closing around your lungs like spiky claws.
"I've been busy."
Derek crossed his arms over his chest and glanced around the room.
"What are we doing, Claire?" He said.
"What?"
"What--fuck." His shoulders hunched up. "You know what, we can't--we can't do this conversation right now. But I think we need to talk."
1. [["What's there to talk about? We're done."|endrelationship]]
2. [["I do really want to talk about this. About everything."|salvagerelationship]]"Whatever. Jesus. We'll just talk about this later." Derek said.
"Fine. I'll text you."
You went back to stand with Jess and Eliza. Eliza opened her mouth but then closed it again. Neither of them addressed what had just happened.
The next day, [[you and Derek broke up.|Day4]]
<<set $Derekbreakup2 to true>>Derek sighed.
"Maybe--do you want to stay here? We could go somewhere else, so we could talk."
You glanced over at Jess and Eliza. You already knew how Jess felt about Derek, and you could read it on her tight features, even across a room rippling with light and shadow. Eliza, however, looked more hopeful.
"Sure." You took a deep breath. "Sure."
So you left the party with Derek and went to talk. You cried and he got angry and you felt all of the toxic sludge sloshing through your chest bubbling to the surface.
But things are better. You still have to work on your relationship, but you think there might be a chance you could [[get back to a good place.|Day4]] "Do you want to dance?" He asked.
"No, I, uh, I'm good." You said. Derek looked a little disappointed but he didn't push it. He pulled out his cell phone and started scrolling through Reddit.
You thought about all of those sad couples you would see at restaurants, sitting across from each other, noses in their cell phones. Indifferent to each other, but not quite willing to sever any tethers.
1. [["What are we doing?" You asked.|unhappy]]
2. [[You don't say anything. Your mom's favorite phrase when you were younger was 'don't rock the boat.|boat]]"What do you mean?" Derek asked. He had to shout to be heard over the music.
"Don't you think things are just--" You didn't know what word to use. "I don't know."
"I think we are okay." Derek shrugged.
"Just 'okay'? Shouldn't it be...more?"
"I don't know."
He just sounded so indifferent. Like he didn't care one way or another.
1. [[Don't push it. It's not worth it.|unhappy2]]
2. [["I think we need to talk about this."|unhappy3]]"What do you mean?" Derek asked. He had to shout to be heard over the music.
"Don't you think things are just--" You didn't know what word to use. "I don't know."
"I think we are okay." Derek shrugged.
"Just 'okay'? Shouldn't it be...more?"
"I don't know."
He just sounded so indifferent. Like he didn't care one way or another.
1. [[Don't push it. It's not worth it.|unhappy2]]
2. [["I think we need to talk about this."|unhappy3]]Lights flickered over your eyes, and you felt like you were being strangled by a string of Christmas lights. You wouldn't quite lean against Derek, who stood behind you with an arm around your shoulder.
You looked up at the ceiling, shrouded in shadows that seemed to puddle and ripple like pools of ink.
You closed your eyes. You felt like you were drowning. Slowly.
When you opened your eyes, Derek was still on his phone. So you [[pulled your phone out too.|Day4]]"Just forget I said anything."
Derek didn't seem very disturbed your comments.
Things are still fine. You went on a date to a restaurant the other day.
You remembered sitting at the restaurant, staring at your phone on the table. You had just ordered your food. You glanced up, and Derek was on his phone too.
You used to think the couples in restaurants who sat across from each other, noses in their cell phones, were sad and pathetic. But now you understand. You've both settled. It's fine.
And that's always how it will be. You'll probably break up with Derek eventually, or he'll break up with you. But for now, you're both comfortable, your relationship like a worn mattress that you know you need to replace but has the outline of your body indented into the material.
When you put your head back down in your phone, it was the same as rolling onto your side on that mattress and [[going back to sleep.|Day4]]You and Derek left the party early to talk.
You [[broke up with him that night.|Day4]]
<<set $Derekbreakup2 to true>>You knew being friends with Adam was playing with fire. You fit together too well. You're not much of a romantic, so you aren't going to wax poetic about how your souls call to each other or you're two halves of the same whole or whatever. But there is something special about him.
And it terrifies you.
<<if $Derekbreakup2 is true>>Even with Derek no longer in the picture, you're a complete coward and aren't willing to put your pride on the line by asking him out. You've never considered yourself a committment-phobe, but this situation with Adam makes you question that.
When will you get the courage to pursue something--anything--with him? You know he'd make you happy. Your chest gets warm when you think of being with him, in that way.
But doubts always creep in and tarnish the golden glow around your thoughts of a future with Adam. What if he did say "yes"...but then, later, he realized he should have said "no"? He's barely peeked into those dark corners of yourself. He would run away screaming as soon as he saw all of the ugliness polluting your veins like sewage. He would come to resent you, just like all the others had. Everyone always left in the end, because they got tired of your insecurities and your doubts and your fears. No one deserved to put up with you.
So you clutched those visions of a future with Adam to your heart and used them to make you smile on a gloomy day. Perhaps, if you were whole again someday, you could be together. But not now. [[You're too much of a burden to put that on someone else.|diet40]]
<<else>>You feel like a bitch, romanticizing a future with Adam while you're still with Derek. It's just more proof of how fucked you are in the head. Even if you and Adam had never actually done anything, it still felt wrong. You hated yourself every time your mind wandered to a future with Adam. Derek was a perfectly nice guy. Why wasn't he making you happy? What was wrong with you? He was nice, outgoing, handsome. He should have been the perfect boyfriend. Every college girl's dream.
Yet you still thought about someone else. Adam wasn't necessarily a good-looking guy, at least not in a conventional sense; his midwestern stoicism sometimes made him as emotive as a rock; and you aren't sure if you would classify him as "nice." But he made you feel something that Derek didn't.
A rational person would have just broken up with Derek. He checked off all the right boxes and should have made you happy, but he didn't. So maybe it was time to just move on.
But a selfish fear lingered under the surface. What if you broke up with Derek and discovered that Adam didn't have feelings for you? You would have lost the comfort and security of your relationship with Derek, and could potentially ruin your friendship with Adam.
No, it wasn't worth the heartache. So you made yourself miserable thinking about Adam and maintaining a relationship with him, [[even though you feared it would never be what you wanted it to be.|diet40]]<</if>><b>About</b>
"The skinny one." was written as part of a university-funded summer research project. I worked with faculty mentors to ensure the veracity of the depiction of the disorder and the quality of the writing. Faculty from the psychology and English disciplines played a significant role in the development of this project, and I am incredibly grateful for the support I received from my university.
This project was inspired by a class I took my junior year of college about interactive fiction writing. Twine and Inform were the main platforms of interest in this class, and we surveyed a broad spectrum of the IF genre, from fun little fluff pieces to intense and emotional stories. One of the games we played was "Depression Quest" by Zoe Quinn, which acted as a huge inspiration for my project. "Depression Quest," in my opinion, represented the potential for the IF genre to delve into deeper topics and I believe that the unique properties of this genre--the player's ability to guide the narrative, the complex relationship between the player and the protagonist, and the immersive language--make it especially conducive to being an educational tool for understanding mental illness and addressing cultural, racial, and gender-based disparities.
As to why I chose eating disorders, I think, in the interest of full disclosure, I need to say that I have never personally struggled with an eating disorder. The character of Claire is not based on myself or anyone I know. I have known people who have struggled with EDs, however, and I've done a lot of research into gender, body image, and eating disorders over the last five or six years. Although many mental illnesses are not well understood, eating disorders tend to be especially mysterious and misunderstood by the general populace. There is a terrible conception that EDs are a "phase" for young women, the result of "poor self-control" or a "diet gone wrong," and can be resolved by just "eating a sandwich." EDs are far more complex.
On a fundamental level, the eating disorder (whether it's anorexia, bulimia, or anything in between) is an expression of complicated and painful internal feelings that the sufferer cannot fully resolve. The disorder acts as an outlet to express these emotions. Internal angst becomes intertwined with the physical self.
While the consumption, or lack thereof, of food is the focal point of the disorder, it is not simply about counting calories or seeing the numbers on the scale go down. Rather, it is about what these things represent. For people with eating disorders, food, calories, and hunger have incredibly complicated symbolic meanings. Food no longer serves a nutritional value; rather, it has symbolic value. That is why people with eating disorders often practice ritualistic eating (such as eating things based on color or keeping different foods carefully separated on a plate). Human beings, unlike many animals, have the unique ability to attribute abstract qualities to food, and this can result in the development of eating disorders.
There is even a biological basis for eating disorders. More and more research indicates that EDs are genetic, and that if you have a family member with an eating disorder, you are more likely to have an eating disorder. Additionally, those with anorexia may have a biological component to the development of their disorder. Patients with anorexia tend to have higher levels of serotonin in the body, which result in nervousness and discomfort, and the act of starving themselves may be an attempt to deplete the excess serotonin. This is just the beginning of the biological research into EDs, and I can imagine that there will be more studies in the future that delve deeper into the biological and genetic elements that contribute to EDs.
Although this narrative cannot fully encapsulate the experiences, thoughts, and behaviors of someone living with anorexia and it by no means serves as a full replication of life with this disorder, I have done my best to at least give some critical insight into the thought processes of those who must suffer day to day with anorexia. I hope that Claire can help you understand some of the darker, less frequently discussed elements of anorexia, so perhaps you can see beyond the one-dimensional portrayal of eating disorders in the media and begin to have more understanding and empathy for a disorder that's often swept aside as "just a phase" or by phrases like "just eat a sandwich." Only 13% of adolescents with eating disorders will ever seek treatment, yet it is considered one of the deadliest mental health disorders with the highest mortality rate.
It is important to note that this story in no way endorses eating disorders or eating disorder behaviors. It should be clear by the end of the story that this is, in fact, a hellish, painful, and dangerous way to live, with no true value or benefits. There are significant health risks that come with an eating disorder, and the psychological, emotional, and social ramifications of EDs are not remotely worth engaging in these behaviors. Eating disorders have the highest mortality rate of any mental illness. Please think of what you would be sacrificing by starting down this path.
Ultimately, I hope that reading Claire's story gives you a better understanding of the mindset of those with EDs. While a "game" like this cannot act as a "mental illness simulator," and that is indeed not remotely my intention, I hope that experiencing Claire's story in this immersive genre will help illuminate the complexities of this disorder and raise awareness for it.
<<back "Back">>If you have stumbled upon this story and are struggling with an eating disorder, it is absolutely crucial to me that you know you don't have to struggle with this alone. Seeking treatment is your choice, but I hope reading Claire's story might inspire you to consider talking to someone or learning more about potential treatment options.
Please consider telling a friend or family member, speaking to your doctor, and/or utilizing the resources listed below to figure out your next step and how to begin your path to recovery:
https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/resource-links
http://www.center4ed.org/resources.asp
http://www.something-fishy.org/other/organizations.php
National Eating Disorders Association Information and Referral Helpline: 1-800-931-2237
Anorexia Nervosa and Associated Disorders: 630-577-1330
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 800-273-8255
<<back "Back">>You had finished tying your shoe laces and went to check your ponytail in the mirror. Janet said your ponytails were still crooked, but you thought it looked fine.
You smoothed down a few stray pieces around your ears. It was warm and sticky outside, and heavy grey clouds crawled over the sky, fat with rain. Still, you and dad were going to go on your daily run.
A few weeks ago, you and dad had started running together. When your dad was in high school, he ran on the track team. You'd seen the old medals and trophies, felted with dust, packed away in boxes in the attic.
Even with his track days behind him, he still liked to run to get his daily exercise. And one day, he asked if you want to go with him. You didn't talk much when you ran--dad wasn't very outgoing--but you liked that you got to spend time with him. He gave you attention, and it made you happy.
You went downstairs to look for him. As you neared the laundry room, you heard him talking to mom. You opened your mouth to call out to him, but then you overheard your name being said.
"Do you think Claire is looking healthier yet?" Your dad asked.
"I haven't seen much of a change yet," your mom replied. "I'm thinking about talking to a nutritionist. And maybe taking her in to the doctor. She just seems so plump for her age."
"You need to stop giving her cookies all the time." Dad said.
"I don't give her cookies all the time, Ben. Maybe you should push her a little more when you go running."
"If you were home more, you could make actual meals for her."
"I'm not having this conversation with you right now."
"Oh, when are we going to have this conversation? That's right, we don't have it unless you want to."
Your mom raised her voice. You turned and went to sit in the living room. [[You pretended you hadn't heard any of it.|gym]]Claire seems like she has it all: good grades, a loyal and loving circle of friends, and a handsome boyfriend. Yet, the perfect facade that Claire presents to the world hides a tormented internal life. She has become an actor in her own life, and the disconnect she feels with those around her becomes stronger by the day, warping her perception of reality and isolating her from friends and family.
Fasting days, bingeing and purging, counting calories, constantly running to the scale--that's just the beginning. The disorder is the only way to make her feel good and whole and perfect, and like she's in control of her own life. Yet the mirror can lie when the mind is broken.
This is the journey of a young woman with an eating disorder. Will you finally get the treatment you need--or are you too far along this path to recover?
You deserve to recover. I cannot stress that enough. You deserve to get better and be happy. Even if you do not think you need help, I implore you to at least consider reaching out to someone or looking at recovery resources. I know it will feel like you are giving up a piece of yourself and that getting treatment will make you feel vulnerable or like you have lost control, but at least think about making the choice to recover. This is not a healthy or happy way to live, no matter how "good" these behaviors may make you feel. That "good" feeling is deceptive and only masks much deeper issues that need to be addressed.
<b>Introduction</b>
This project began with a simple goal in mind: to educate. Although we have come a long way in recent years towards destigmatizing many mental health disorders, there is still misinformation pushed to the general public that creates a tangible barrier between those dealing with mental illness and those who do not. One way to tear down this barrier is to provide education and information that can help those who do not live with mental health disorders to better understand, and empathize with, individuals who must live day to day with mental illness.
My project focuses specifically on the daily struggles of living with an eating disorder. An often misunderstood and oversimplified disorder, I hope that following Claire's story can give those without an eating disorder better insight into what life is truly like for someone with anorexia. It is not simply a matter of "not wanting to eat." This disorder is much more complex than you may have been led to believe, and the sufferer's abnormal relationship with food merely scratches the surface of a psychologically tormenting and emotionally draining disorder. Eating disorders do not just effect someone's physical appearance or health--they go much deeper and invade every aspect of a sufferer's life.
Although this narrative cannot fully encapsulate the experiences, thoughts, and behaviors of someone living with anorexia and it by no means serves as a full replication of life with this disorder, I have done my best to at least give some critical insight into the thought processes of those who must suffer day to day with anorexia. I hope that Claire can help you understand some of the darker, less frequently discussed elements of anorexia, so perhaps you can see beyond the one-dimensional portrayal of eating disorders in the media and begin to have more understanding and empathy for a disorder that's often swept aside as "just a phase" or by phrases like "just eat a sandwich." Only 13% of adolescents with eating disorders will ever seek treatment, yet it is considered one of the deadliest mental health disorders with the highest mortality rate.
If you have stumbled upon this story and are struggling with an eating disorder, it is absolutely crucial to me that you know you don't have to struggle with this alone.
Please consider telling a friend or family member, speaking to your doctor, and/or visiting the following links for resources that can help you figure out the path to your recovery:
https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/resource-links
http://www.center4ed.org/resources.asp
http://www.something-fishy.org/other/organizations.php
It is important to note that this story in no way endorses eating disorders or eating disorder behaviors. It should be clear by the end of the story that this is, in fact, a hellish, painful, and dangerous way to live, with no true value or benefits. There are significant health risks that come with an eating disorder, and the psychological, emotional, and social ramifications of EDs are not remotely worth engaging in these behaviors. Eating disorders have the highest mortality rate of any mental illness. Please think of what you would be sacrificing by starting down this path.
Disclaimers:
This story is about a young woman with an eating disorder. Please be cautious when beginning this game if you think you may be triggered by this type of content.
This story contains explicit language and some adult situations.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
This story is not intended to be a substitute for the medical advice of a licensed physician. The reader should consult with their doctor in any matters relating to his/her health.
[[Back|Introduction]]<b>Contact Me</b>
If you are interested in contacting me for any reason (comments, concerns, questions), please feel free to send an email to the following address: <b>theskinnyoneofficial@gmail.com</b>
I would be super excited to hear anything you have to say, so don't be afraid to reach out!
<<back "Back">>