As the day moves by, I feel more numb. Just going through life like a programmed robot destined to live in a loop until it becomes obsolete.
As soon as I reach home and make my way to the room, my hands subconsciously grab the only stationary I've been using faithfully for 16 years and make myself bleed. Watching the little blood drops over the reckless lines I carved on my wrist made me chuckle lightly. Looking at the ceiling again, wondering when will I be brave enough to carve a deeper vertical line that will finally stop the pain permanently. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, looking at myself in the mirror, wishing I could be anyone else. Wishing I could be prettier, fairer, smaller, skinnier, taller. I wish I could have clear skin, beautiful nails, perfect teeth, long eyelashes, a flat stomach and a stable mental health.
I continued making myself bleed to relieve the built up stress in my head and my chest. Then I prepared to have a long shower to overthink and hate myself even more.
After that, I return to bed, refusing to eat as people's menacing words on my weight keep running over and over again in my head. I remind myself I'm a fat, ugly piece of shit who don't deserve food. After swallowing a couple Xanax, I close my eyes to fall asleep and stop myself from spiraling further. I continue praying and begging God to not let me wake up the next day.
