Just A Little Further -boots-

All I needed to go was just a little further and I'd be in forever. I mean look at me, I look great. I look just like them - and they like me all of them, they all like me, and if I just go that extra mile they'll like me forever. Just a little further - a few more times. Then you'll get used to it, you'll see...

That was me three years ago. I had become bolemic. Bolemia is a mental and physical disorder in which you believe that you are fat, you are ugly, and the only way to help it is to throw up. Soon your body gets week and so do you.

It was during the Christmas Musical that I started. I was a lead, and had a crush on the girl opposite of me. I only shared this with a few of my friends, one of them being the person who sent me on an almost insane state of depression and psychological problems. He told the school who I liked one day, through a song on this type/speach program on the computer. I was just walking in and I hear the song... and I darted over to the other side of the room and saw him. And he was laughing... and the rest of them were laughing. I ran into the bathroom and I threw up.

And I realized that I had to get back at him. And so I started doing maniacal things. I ruined the play for him, by spreading obnoxious rumors. My friends and I made a song about his weight "Big Butted Brian - Boom! Boom! He comes and and shakes the Room! Room!".

I know that's not right. But when you were in the sixth grade you weren't exactly thinking like that were you. In retrospect I feel horrible, because I know we've both suffered over our feuding.

Eventually, the popular kids wanted to do something about it because no one liked the kid anymore. We got together and wrote him love notes - ending with "meet me by the waterfountain". We then told this popular girl to go to the water fountain and when he saw her she screamed and called him a sicko pervert pig. We all mocked him after that.

And while all this was going - for the three months of torment leading up to this I remembered what he had said before I ran away.

Pig Boy.

I started not eating. And then I started eating with friends and throwing up afterwards. I would just eat what I would usually eat with them when we'd go out to parties and stuff. Then when I would go home I would vomit. It got to the point where I didn't need to stick my finger down my throat to do it. I could just use my ab muscles and... ugh.

It's sick I know. But I wasn't pig boy anymore. Everyone said I lost weight, my teachers, my parents. At that time all the kids who were unhealthily thin were cool, and I could fit in with them. I was chosen early for projects, got notes all the time, everything was working out for me.

I realized that if I just kept it up, I could be popular. And wouldn't have to worry about big butted brian or anyone else.

I continued, and until the end of the year I was popular. It was one day when walking to my grandmothers car, probably fifty yards, that I knew it was taking it's toll. I couldn't breathe. I was suffocating. Choking. My eyes were running with water. I was dizzy. My stomach wrenched. I had the dry heaves. My eyes were shutting. I made it to the car and got in and passed out on the back seat.

My grandmother thought I was tired. I told her nothing. I graduated after, but didn't keep the friends. I gained back the weight little by little.

Brian had to leave school because of torment. I know what I did was horrible, and there is no excuse for it. But the way he ruined everything I had with one insufferable song was inexcusable for anyone.

Recently I saw him, and said hi. He won't talk to me anymore. He goes to the highschool I go to, and people have forgotten about everything. All the kids who made fun of him with me are his friends now as they are mine.

But the scars still show.

I had to go to therapy because I was suicidal. I never felt emotions and only showed people that I was a person who would listen to them. And they never wanted anything else. never. no one wanted to know me for who I was... I was just the thinning boy.

I'm writing this now because I'm feeling another blow.

I've lost seven inches in my waist in three months. I've been ill in a way where I don't know it. I've been losing weight and my stomach hurts.

But scars go further than that.

Everyone tells me I'm so thin and fit but I'm not. I don't see myself as it. And sometimes I wish - that even if it had kill me - I wish I had gone that extra mile. But I know it's wrong... and I know that I will get over this.

But eating disorders are bad. They leave scars, they hurt, they kill. Beauty is who you are, not what you look like. I learned that the long way...

boots

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