Skinny Hunger

There’s a hunger at the pit of my stomach. It gnaws at me and tells me to consume nothing.

Nothing at all. Don’t you want to be skinny again?

I do, but its so hard. I’m so hungry.

Somehow, the hunger feels good. The pains and the aches, the tumultuous rumblings of my unsatisfied stomach are all part of my body returning to the slim shape that it was before. I miss that girl. Every day, I think about her and how much I took her for granted. Now, hardly any of her clothes even fit me.

It’s this medicine that’s done it. The pills that I consume daily, the pill that both heals and poisons me at the same time. It liberates me and constrains me. I can’t get rid of its venom. Not yet.

My sweatshirt is fastened over my torso. Tight, to keep in the warmth.

It is snowing

and

I am running.

The streets look so fine on this wintry morning. The buildings are coated in white and the snow drifts down and flutters to the ground in a dance for me. It makes me happy to see the city so empty and desolate. It is very early in the morning. Everyone is asleep still at this hour.

The soles of my feet ache and my heart is burning. I am getting heartburn from all this exercise. I get it everyday now. It is something I am used to. I take slippery elm for it, and it seems to do the job. But this remedy does not rectify the pain in my knees, or the occasional spraining of my ankle.

I run forwards. Past London Road, with all its pubs and shops. I run towards East Park and soon, I am there.

My feet hurt and my heart burns. The hunger bites at my soul again.

It’ll be okay soon. Its good for you, this pain. Don’t you want to be skinny again?

There’s a photograph of a sandwich on a billboard near the park. It makes the biting and the gnawing worse. I grieve for my former self and wonder how she remained as beautiful as she did, with nothing to eat.

Its all these pills that have done it. They make my skin grow into itself and they make my bones swell until I am so large that I cannot fit through the door. My own weight is too much for me. It makes me heavy, and I feel as if I cannot be weightless again.

I’m so heavy and I cannot be weightless again.

You can. Its working now. Don’t you feel it? Don’t you want to be skinny again? Run faster, run further. Come on! You’ll be weightless again. You don’t need anything to fill you. All you need to do is listen to me.

I run past East Park and down past Palmerston Road.

I had a friend when I was young. She is smirking. ‘Your body is so large. Its okay though. I know you want to be skinny like me,’ I didn’t think I was large, but she planted the seed within my mind.

Run faster!

My feet are heavy in these trainers, and they plummet deep into the snow that has settled onto the pavement. The trees are naked, and their leaves have fallen to the ground and been buried beneath the snow and ice. But even though their branches are thick, and they have no garments to cover themselves, they stand tall and don’t falter.

I see a model on a billboard. Does she feel the hunger too? I’ve heard that when you get to a certain weight, the hunger doesn’t gnaw you anymore. You become whole and you stay skinny. You become whole when you are skinny.

Yes, you’re right. That’s my girl.

I run faster and shake away the models face from my mind. Her face dissipates into the snow.

I stop running.

There is ice all around me,

but

I am

burning.

I have forgotten how to breathe. Why does it feel as if there are almonds stuck in my chest? Their rough skin is irritating me. Why are they sticking out into my ribcage and poking my flesh? Everything I eat feels sharp now. But I have eaten nothing this past day. My sight is hazy and my vision is blurred. My Earth is spinning. It is becoming square shaped and the sharp corners of my Earth pierce me when I try to touch them with my hands.

Go! Run forwards! Ignore this weakness. For that is all it is.

I shake away this haziness and jog forwards to warm my legs up again. My head hits wood and -

she has fallen to the ground. There is a small cut on her forehead. The blood drips into the clean snow. Her body has become so fragile. There are bruises on her skin and dry patches on her face. The bags beneath her eyes are heavier than her whole body. It is so early that no one is out to see her limp form in the snow.

As the city starts to awake, the masses mill around the streets and go to work. A passer-by witnesses the woman melting on the snow. But he is too busy to care for her. He must not be late for work. She has caught him at a bad time. If it was a weekend, he would be more inclined to help.

The woman has still not regained consciousness.

A couple of hours later, the woman is discovered by a compassionate soul. She is lifted onto a stretcher and into the care of a paramedic. Her eyes flutter open after a while and-

the desire to be alive gnawed at me. So, I awoke, and I lived.

Don’t you want to be skinny again?

It was an illusion, her calling to me. She was lying to me. Why did I believe her so? The hunger was there but I should have listened to my body telling me to be strong. I am strong now. That is all that matters.

So, I am awake.