I keep the number like a mathematician. The girl who failed functions and could barely deduce ½ into anything other than ½ but when it comes to calories it’s different. Math is easy. I am elite. I am intelligent. I can cut hundreds here and 5 fat grams there. My division is flawless, much like my subtraction. Multiplacation is unnecessary. I add only when I eat more than I should and soon enough that will also be rendered useless.
It was ½ an apple 40 calories, 2 saltines 26 calories, cup of tea 0cal. This was breakfast, lunch, and dinner: a grand total of 56 calories, which puts my other intakes to shame. I am immortal. I am everlasting. I am the god to my own ‘temple’ one that is dissolving. I don’t see it though. I see strength. I see power. I breathe in quickly and blink rapidly to keep from blacking out. It’s a struggle but I manage.
My heartbeats sluggishly inside this cage I call my body. It’s a wondrous though, all bone; the skin that is there clings helplessly to what remains of me. Sometimes I imagine it to be melting and I am weightless but sadly, I am not. I am a massive lumpy heap of girl that must push harder, faster, to keep up.
The room begins spinning and I sink to the ground, lie on my back. I begin to do sit-ups. 25 would’ve been enough to burn off the gluttonous amount I ate today but I will do 100 for good measure. I ache with every crunching of disintegrated muscle. My heart quickens. 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, and the litany of numbers continues. I am so tired.
I am so weak. I can’t do this. Yes you can. I can’t. You can. Now do it.
8, 9, 10, 11, 12…it goes on and on and on until finally…
Everything stops.
She was always smiling. They’ll say. She was good at helping others. She was great at English but they’re all wrong. I was a mathematician. I was perfection…well, I was when I was alive.
*All credit to Emily Santilli
Stay Strong xo
Aria
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