I look at my body and all I can see are the parts of me you
held. I see the parts of my body that you so viciously lusted after. I remember
you telling me how you loved me, how I was yours. I laughed, because I knew you
didn’t, and I wasn’t. I knew all along you would leave me, for a shinier model,
or a model you already had and knew. Occasionally, I think of the time we spent
together, and feel a shiver come down my spine. I can’t believe I let you have
all of me. I wanted you to take me into
your arms and hold me so tight I’d disappear, and I would be yours forever. I
wanted nothing more than to disappear into your ether and become something only
you knew. I remember feeling my heart break when I saw you with her. The girl I
feared you would return to but knew you would. I wondered if she called out
your name like I did. I wonder if you held her in your arms, pressing her so
close she became part of you. I hope you make her laugh how you made me laugh.
I hope she feels the same electricity when you kiss her as I did. I remember your
hair under my fingertips, and how I could lay with you for hours, and nothing
else would matter, our bed becoming a ship, bringing us into a new world. I
remember with you I felt I could see the whole universe, as it was laying right
next to me. I hope you love her. I hope she never lays awake at night questioning
herself, as I do. Did you love me? You said it with such ease. I remember you
showing me off to your friends. I remember how you looked at me, how your light
kisses made me feel at home. I remember feeling I could trust you with all of
me, and I did. Now I see you and this all comes flooding back, yet you look at
me as if you’re struggling to remember my name. I question what I did wrong.
Did you want more sex? Was I not willing enough to do what you wanted? Was I
not skinny enough? Do I not wear enough makeup? She wears makeup every day,
making my freckles and chubby cheeks feel inadequate. I know I shouldn’t blame
her, but part of me can’t help it. I silently hope you look at her and think of
me. My phone buzzes and I almost always wish its you, telling me you’ve left
her, because you realise that it’s me you wanted all along. But I know that won’t
happen. I look in the mirror, and I know I’m not the girl I was when you met
me. Maybe that’s what made you go away. Maybe I became too much unlike myself,
the vapid little girl who’d just come from an incredibly toxic situation. I
know when I met you, I wasn’t me, I was a shadow of myself, but part of me
wishes I still was. I wonder if I should have shut my mouth more. I should have
been your porcelain doll to keep.
I often find myself looking in the mirror, as most girls my age do. I look at my thighs that touch. I see how they wobble as I walk. I look at my round stomach, almost endearing in the most sickening way. I see the parts of me I hate, and wish someone would come along with a scissors and chop them off, sling them into a trash can over their shoulder and have that be that. At the same time, I feel my shoulder blades poking into the back of my shirt. I can stick my fingers under my ribs if I try hard enough. I feel my pelvis clinging to my skin. I don't understand how my body can work like this. I don't understand how I can fluctuate so intensely within one form. I know I have an unhealthy relationship with food. I find myself binge eating repeatedly, simply to get the food out of the house. Once I know something is there, I can't stop thinking about it, picturing the flavours melting onto my tongue, my teeth sinking into the textures, washing it all down with enough water t
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