Blood flowed from the tongue that had been bitten so often her teeth have left marks. This was never supposed to happen. She was supposed to grow up and find a better life, not one where she had to hide just as much as she had before. What she was supposed to be didn't change what she was. Pathetic. Half tempted to turn away from the mirror and crawl back into bed, ignore how her mascara would stain her pillowcase, and sleep like the dead until the uproar of her stomach and the suffering in her soul faded into the oblivion of dreamless sleep.
She thought about doing just that, thought about how her parents would see themselves as having been right about her - she was nothing but a lazy coward who would be better off dead. She wasn't dead, but had she had been, this feeling would be Hell, she was almost certain. Then again, did her parents being right matter? They weren't here in her life anymore, her body and its various betrayals was. She was currently naked except for her socks, afraid risking clothing might mean when her stomach yet again revolted she would wind up with shit-stained underwear. If only she hadn't eaten breakfast. If only she had been better at remembering to take her medicine... what good was wondering about 'if only' when she was worthless.
What happened was what happened, was that she skipped work to shit out the remains of chocolate ice cream she had eaten for breakfast like the fatass she was. What happened was a waste of everything, time, energy, everything. When she finished, when her heaving, disgusting, uncooperative body finally cooperated, she showered, then took some time to stare at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyeliner and mascara ran, as she hadn't thought to use a makeup wipe before showering, that's how stupidly out of it she felt.
She could hear crickets from somewhere inside the stupidly large empty house she inhabited. She hated the fact that the noise of them bothered her, but it did. Everything bothered her at the moment as she broke down in tears, puddles from her shower earlier already forming on the bathroom floor. She was disgusting. A mess. Alone. Except not truly alone, since apparently her house had crickets inside it, unless she had left a window open. She was not about to check. She was just going to sit until her discomfort overpowered her inertia, at which point she would have to pick herself off the floor and handle the realities of adult life. Why had her mouth even had blood in it? She no longer remembered, no longer remember the source of her misery, just where she was.
ns216.73.217.69da2
and then Add to home screen.