Copywright 2006 All Rights Reserved

*May trigger. Depiction of eating disorder,
please refrain from reading if you suffer from one

This is dedicated to my dear friend Daniel.

They hated me. They cursed and beat me until the worth of my body and soul was diminished. Incoherent threats and insults were cast upon me every waking moment. Every time I felt almost—happy, They would seize me and take me from my friends and family. Only to be alone, dwelling in my ineffable loneliness and self hatred; and that’s the way They liked it.
But, I have not always been under their imprisonment…They started about seven years ago, I cannot remember very well what it was like to live without Them, but I must have been somewhat happy.
Only, every time I would dare sneak a glance at my body, I was hated. I was tormented by my own disgusting self; all I saw when I looked in the mirror was a grotesque, fat loathsome creature that did not deserve to live, happily among the others. And the others, how I envy them, all so content so calm so fulfilled…I want what they have! And those that are the happiest of all are thin, and perfect, unlike me.
And I suppose that’s when They started, the Thoughts. Creeping and crawling through my mind; growing and attaching Their torment like a parasite on my soul.

I am sixteen now, and have successfully hidden my eating disorder. High school has never been wonderful. I don’t have to tell you I don’t have any friends. I don’t play sports, and have stopped noticing girls, not looking my way. Yeah, I’m a guy. Stupid. Right? I would never tell anyone, obviously. People don’t think males can have this “girl thing,” but they do.
My only wish, however, is that one day I may find someone, someone I truly care about, and cares about me. And that I can tell them all I must endure from day to day. And they will care, and not condemn me for what I look like, but for who I am, and can be. That of course, is just a wish.
___________________________________________
History class is starting; it is probably the only part of the day I enjoy. Just because I get to sit behind Angie. I sort of like her…well, a lot, actually.

I take my seat in the upper left corner, near the window, and unpack my books.
“Hey Daniel! How’s life treating ya?” Angie zestfully said, coming up from behind me. With her short, layered hair, and her sparkling catlike eyes peering into mine; made even more prominent with her blue eye shadow covering her lids.
“I’ve been better.” I shrug, surprised she even noticed me.
“Did ya see the new girl?” She asked, placing her elbows on my desk.
“Yeah, I did. She’s hot.” Jerry interrupted from his seat.
“Not like it would matter to you, fatty, I got her.”
“Oh shut up, Jerry! She can’t be stupid enough to like you, anyway.” Angie snapped.
“Yeah, stand up for your boyfriend, freak.”
“She’s not my boyfriend! I, I mean, girlfriend!” I stuttered, almost jumping out of my seat.
“Oh, yeah? Bring it Daniel!” Jerry said, standing up, ready to fight, right there.
“Enough, enough. Get back in your seats students. I’ve been writing so many detention slips this past month, my fingers are starting to stiffen. But I’m sure writing a few more won’t cripple me.” Our history teacher, Mr. Cartwig said. As he entered the room carrying a stack of papers; we all took that as a hint.
“I’ll get you Daniel.” Jerry whispered, as we took our seats. Well, most of us did anyway.
“Now. As some of you have heard, we have a new student in our midst.” Everyone straightened up, looking out the door with anticipation. I just sat there, thinking about what they might serve at lunch. God. Please don’t let there be too many calories for me to obsess about. No. I’m doing well. I haven’t had anything to eat since last night. I’m going to fast today. I am.

“I want you all to give her a warm welcome, and make her feel comfortable here. Welcome her as you welcome me… on second thought, do the opposite.” He motioned for her to come in. As she slowly walked in, she bowed her head respectively and smiled modestly at the class.
“Um, hi everyone. My name is Ashton Douglas, I’m sixteen, I come from – Texas, and my dad is a photographer, so we came here to…Virginia, to get better pictures…and basically that’s it.”
“Well, I’m sure you could get some nice photographs in Texas, Ashton. Is that the whole reason you came to Virginia?” Mr. Cartwing asked, innocently enough.
“No. My dad’s new wife lives here.” She retorted and almost ran to her seat, mortified.
“Oh. Oh, ok then…” was all he could muster to say, to keep the class from smirking in their seats. “Very well then. In order to see that you will have a friend to talk to at lunch, not that you couldn’t make one very easily, my dear,--“ he added quickly—“ I drew the names of my students on little pieces of paper, and whatever name I draw out of a hat, will have the honor of dining with you.” He went to pull a hidden hat from behind his desk, and lifted it high in the air quite dramatically. “Honor?” Angie whispered sarcastically in my ear.
“And the winner is! Drum roll please. Daniel! Where is he? Oh. There you are my boy, you get to dine with…uh, Ashton at lunch today.” My eyes widened, I sunk deeper into my seat, and I didn’t dare even look at anyone.
“Ok, open to page 128 please.” Thank God. I buried my head in my book and was silent for the rest of the class. Occasionally my eyes wandered and I could see, unfortunately, Ashton looking me over. Right. I’m sure she was eyeing me in disgust. How could she think I was attractive?
All I could think about, all class long was the fact that I was eating with her. Eating with her. Eating with anyone was miserable, but Ashton? Beautiful, golden blonde, hazel eyed, thin Ashton? I always feel as if people are judging what I eat even more than I am; but she? I must admit though, it is so nice to see Jerry’s jealous face leering at me.

After class was dismissed, everyone scattered to get in line at the cafeteria. I never had to worry about getting the best seat in the house. The upper back corner, half broken lunch table. No one can see me, and I can sit and stare at everyone else, while having the advantage of no one staring back. But, I really don’t think taking Ashton to my “hang out” would be very impressive.
I lingered around my desk for moment, unsure what to do, when Jerry came up from behind me nearly knocking me over to get to Ashton. “Oh, sorry, porky.” He said as he ran by.
“Hey, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Jerry, and I want to take you to lunch—“ Great. I hung my head; it lasted to long, whatever. I didn’t want to eat in the first place anyway.
“Don’t worry Danny boy,” Angie said, resting her elbow on my shoulder, “She’s probably a jerk anyway.” They walked out the door, arm and arm. Angie and I followed, I tried my hardest not to pounce on him for calling me that. If only he knew how those words pierce. If he only knew how I loathe myself over my body as it is.
Jerry leered back at me again, this time I wasn’t so pleased to see it.

“Oh, Jerry. It gives me great joy to see you escorting Ashton here to the lunch room. It was nice of Daniel to let you have this privilege.” Mr. Cartwrite said, noticing them leaving together. “Daniel, that was very kind of you. I trust you and Ashton will be wonderful friends.” At this, Jerry practically pushed her out of his arms, and stormed away. Leaving that horrible awkward silence between us all; Angie indignantly skipped away, making me feel even guiltier of deserving this girl. Up to this point, Ashton had done nothing but stare at me. I was inclined to ease the pain of our forced courtship.
“Well, are we going or not?” she purred, impatiently.



Authors notes: This is dedicated to my dear friend Daniel, who suffers from this. I tried my best to write what he described to me, in my own words. I know this is a touchy subject, but please give constructive comments. Thanks!

wow thats amazing!
i read a book on people with eating disorders a little while ago
and you seem to have hit the nail on the head!
can't wait for more! =]

Copyright 2006 All rights reserved

The Disordered Thoughts of Daniel
Part 2

“Oh, yeah, come on.” I said as we walked toward the cafeteria. I didn’t dare take her hand, or arm. I kept looking in the opposite direction for Angie. “Don’t you have any friends?” her aqua tinted eyes swam in mine. I had to blink sharply to snap out of it. I tried to think of something quick, but I saw no reason to lie, she would probably end up in Jerry’s arms half clothed, in a day or so.
“I don’t need friends.”
“I think everybody needs friends…at least one.” She grabbed my hand, squeezing it tight. Her forwardness was somewhat charming, but a little abrasive. “What’s wrong with your fingers?” she exclaimed, drawing my hand close to her face. My index finger was marked with scratches, scars, and faint bruises. All from sticking my finger down my throat. “Nothing.” I snatched my hand away, and stiffened my body; I wasn’t accustomed to people noticing things like that. “Sorry…lets go eat.” She said. And we walked toward the cafeteria.
I guess I should say walking through the halls with certainly one of the most beautiful girls in school, gave me a feeling of pride, and confidence of securing her. Not true. What are they serving today? How many calories will I have to count? She must not eat very much, she’s in great shape. What if I can’t keep myself from eating? I have to fast, but, I can’t not eat in front of her; Oh, what she must be thinking holding into my fat arm, what she must be thinking— “Daniel!”
“What?!” I jumped, coming back to reality.
“I said your name, like, five times! What are you deaf?” She eyed me like I was the biggest nut case in the whole school. Maybe I was.
“Sorry, I wasn’t listening…”
“Well, try when I’m talking to you, honey.” She gripped my arm even tighter and again looked into my boring eyes with her entrancing ones; somehow, her controlling nature was a bit odd, and starting to become irritating.

We walked into the cafeteria together. My heart sank when I saw all the food. Hot and brightly colored. Elderly ladies with hair nets spooning it out. What am I going to do? Some turned around when they saw us walking in together. “Come on; show me where you usually sit.” She said, as she pranced proudly through the giant room.
I had to think quickly and find another empty table that was not my usual place of dining, or lack of.
“Anywhere around here?” she asked, pulling me back, starting to see me walk farther away.
“Uh, yeah, right here.” She plunked herself down at a bench and indignantly sank her chin into the palm of her hand.
“Do you want me to get you some food?” I asked, finally understanding, she wanted me to do it.
“That would be nice.”
“Anything in particular?”
“Well, whatever you think I would want. How about that.” She said coyly.
“Sure.” I made it through this far, I suppose I could walk up there like everybody else and just get a couple trays, and some greasy high school food.
I got in line, and inched along like everybody else. Pretending to be like everybody else.
“So have you kissed her yet?” A voice from behind me whispered.
“Angie! I, how did you…how long have you been standing there?” I stuttered.
“Like, forever, I was just waiting for you to notice. You must be daydreaming about blondie.” She said, sarcastically.
“No. I mean, she’s pretty, just not my type. And, we won’t be doing any kissing.”
“Anytime soon?”
“Anytime never. Besides, why do you care so much?” I asked, as an unidentifiable plop of something green landed on my plate.
“I don’t. Just curious, that’s all…” we were silent a few more minutes. I kept my eyes on the food, thinking how horribly fattening it was.
“Oh, I love these! Daniel, have you tried the Mac and cheese? It’s really good. Here.” And she spooned a crater size on my dish.
“Angie! You can’t do that! I mean, I can’t eat that! What’s your problem?” No sooner was that out of my mouth did I regret saying that.
“My problem? What, are you afraid to eat around your “girlfriend”? God. You’re so stupid sometimes…and to think I was going to ask you over to my house.” she stopped. Realizing what she just offered, shoved her tray unto the unexpecting person's hands behind her, and nearly ran out of the cafeteria.
Now I’m just standing there, like an idiot holding two trays,and one with some sloppy macaroni and cheese.

Things like this. Stupid, childish things, I do, just because of my “problem.” People I offend, I really like Angie. Does she actually like me back? Enough to invite me over to her house? Just the thought of being invited somewhere, with someone who likes me back, gives me momentary joy. Just until I remember just how much I screwed things up.
I make my way back to the table where Ashton is sitting. I almost miss the table, because my eyes are searching for Angie.
“Hey there, what took you so long?”
“I was just talking to someone…”
“Oh, that girl? That one with the purple highlights?” She sniffed and reached in her purse for some hand sanitizer. “She seems…interesting.”
“She is. I mean, I’ve known her for a little while. She’s just a friend.” I started handing the plastic silver wear out.
“And this comes from a guy who says he doesn’t need friends. Maybe, maybe I could be your friend.” She pulled me down next to her and leaned in closer to me, batting her eyelashes.
“Well, um sure. I mean, you’re awfully friendly…your, friendly…and beautiful.” Sometimes I surprise myself at how poetic I am.
“You’re cute. Kinda plump, but cute.” she smiled. As she leaned in, closer, I felt her breast against my chest and inhaled her intoxicating perfume. She swirled her hands around my back and pulled me in. Like a devious fox, seducing its prey. Ashton was going to kiss me, right there in front of everyone.
“Ashton…Ashton. I can’t.” I breathed, as I tried to pull myself away. She wouldn’t let go. The harder I pulled, the stronger her grip was. Until, until, she…kissed me. Long and hard. Her glossed lips attached to mine and pressed unto my mouth almost, she wouldn’t stop until she made a scene, then, finally let lose. I almost fell back at the intensity of the release. I turned around to find everyone looking at us. I wanted to crawl under the the floor and assumed she did too, but when I looked at Ashton’s face, I became horribly confused.
First just a little sick smirk, than a naughty smile, then she burst out laughing! Just laughing, and laughing until the entire school looked at her as if she was absolutely insane. Then, to my horror, Jerry stepped out from some unseen table. Just behind us, he to was laughing the same horrible laugh. He stood on a bench and announced: “Ok, ok. You did it. You made the cut Ashton, welcome to this school.” She jumped up alongside him.
“I kissed the fat kid, you better let me in!” She said through her heavy laughter.
“Yeah, I didn’t think you could do it.” Now, the whole cafeteria started laughing. I didn’t know if Angie was there or not, but she too, was probably giggling at the joke. I knitted my eyes and sank lower in my seat. I didn’t want to look at anyone. I could still hear them though, and that was just as humiliating.
After what seemed to be an eternity, a voice came from the loudspeaker.
“Students, please dispose of your trash in marked containers, and make your way to your respective classes, lunch time is now over.”
I was always happy to hear it, now though, I couldn’t have been more grateful. Jerry and Ashton stepped off the bench, and Ashton went to fetch her purse. “Come on Ashton, I’ll walk you to class,” he said, not even looking in my direction. “Ill be there in a minute,” she bent down, making sure Jerry wasn’t watching and whispered, “Daniel, listen, I had to do it. Come on, don’t be mad.”
“I’m waiting.”
“Coming Jerry!” and she skipped off.

I just sat. Frozen with fear, anger, pain, and everything else horrible there is to feel. Our food was still there. Now almost cold. I just looked at it; my eyes welled up with tears. How could something people so often enjoy as eating cause so much pain and torment for me? The pasta and fried chicken were mocking me. The whole school was mocking me.
There is one thing I have not failed at today: not eating.

To be continued...

wow.
i relle luv the way u describe everything liek ashtons eyes!!
u relle r an amazing writer!
keep up the good work! =]

( Thanks for your feedback!!!)

all rights reserved copywright 2006

I was relieved beyond comprehension when I finally made it home.
I live with my Grandmother. I prefer not to tell of why, and how that came about. But for right now the only thing I can think of is going through the pantry and eating whatever I want, and having no one contradict or ridicule me. I suppose now it is the only thing I have to look forward to after I ruined things with Angie today. Well, and the mortifying scene at the cafeteria,all I want to do is eat.
Luckily for me when I come home from school Grandma is usually watching her soap operas, and can’t hear very well in the first place, so she usually turns the television up really loud, and won’t notice I’m even there until hours later.

I sneak up the stairs to my room, lock the door and drop my backpack to the floor. I pause for a moment, deciding if I should really do it. Under my bed lies a disgusting assortment of chips,candy, soda, and anything else that is calorie filled. I mean, I have had a hard day, it won’t hurt, just a little, then I won’t eat for a couple days or so and it shouldn’t make that much of a difference on my body.
Ok, just open one bag of chocolate raisins…just a handful, and that should be enough. But, I find it never is. I’m so hungry. Before I know it, before I am even aware of what exactly I am doing, I start eating. And eating. Just grabbing bags of whatever my well supplied stash offers. If I do it quickly maybe it won’t matter as much. The sounds of wrappers and crunchy plastic bags being ripped open, I’m shaking. Just to picture myself doing this, eating like this would be so horribly funny. I must look ridiculous, like a greedy five year old on Halloween, trying to fit all of his candy in his mouth at one time. With every bite, I suffocate the horrors of today. The pain of being mocked, the loneliness of being singled out as the one kid, who would be the worst to kiss. The fear I will be an inadequate, pathetic person who will never grow pass this, and that maybe doesn’t deserve better. The resentment that I can never tell anyone, they would laugh, I can never get better if I can’t tell anyone. Than I fear I should never recover.
I don’t know how much time passes until I can fill no more, it is too painful.
I fall back. My head hits the carpet. My stomach hurts so badly I can only roll over to ease the pain; with my face pressed against crums and bits of food, empty wrappers and boxes scattered around me. It’s like a junk yard. And I’m the dog that ate the garbage.


“Daniel, Daniel are you up there boy?” I hear my Grandmother feebly call from downstairs. It takes me a minute to get myself up, and open the door to respond.
“Yeah, I’m doing homework.”
“I didn’t hear you come in. Why don’t you come down and watch, Alonzo is secretly Alexandra’s lover, when she is engaged to Jillian, and Alonzo and Jillian are going to fight over her. It’s ever so scandalous, its giving me chills.”
“Uh, that’s ok. I have a lot to do.”

I close the door, and look at the mess around me. I feel so dirty and sticky. And fat. I’m getting that urge, that feeling like I need to get rid of it. It creeps in my mind, I don’t notice at first, until I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Then it starts. I walk closer to the glass, my bare feet stepping on the wrappers. I lift up my shirt, and grab the lose skin, echoes of what everyone said today suddenly rushes my mind. “Ha, I kissed the fat kid!” “You’re kinda plump,” “It wouldn’t matter to you fatty, I got her.” “Oh sorry, porky.”

I can’t handle it, I find myself running to the bathroom, I lock the door, turn the faucet on full blast, and through it up.

I won’t go into to much detail. You know what happens.

After I finish, I don’t know how long, my time perception is gone when I’m in there. I feel relief. But only for a brief moment, my mouth has that bitter, creamy taste. And my eyes tear and puff around the edges. My face is plumb colored and my breath is hot and heavy. This is when I tell myself it will never happen again. “Just one more time!” Always seems to be the answer. I tell myself what I am doing is wrong and despicable, and I won’t do it again.
I’ve even read that people with these things can die of heart failure. Die. Just anytime, and I still do it, I still keep this secret. I wonder, if Jerry of Ashton knew what I go through, after school lets out and everyone goes home, that they would still say that. If they would still call me the fat kid. They wouldn’t. They just couldn’t be that cold hearted. But, what if I’m kidding myself, what if they laughed even more because something like this was so trivial and ridiculous to them.

“Fat pig!” I yell to the mirror, “Fat- horrible -pig! That’s what you are.”

to be continued...

Authors notes: This is the most dramatic and graphic part of the story by far. I hope to end it soon.

MORE!

All Rights Reserved Copyright 2006

The Disordered Thoughts of Daniel
PART 4
Later that night I still feel weak and sick. I tell my Grandmother that when she was watching her soap operas earlier I ate, and wasn’t hungry for dinner. She has no idea just how much.
I crawl unto bed; though I am hot I wear sweat pants and a shirt to cover my body from myself. But I can still feel my thighs spread beneath the sheets, I still feel heavy and filthy. I am shaking from the intensity of my gorge.
After tossing and turning for an hour or so, I fall unto a light, restless sleep. I won’t say I cried, tears didn’t stream down my puffy cheeks. There comes a point where I have become so numb, I know crying is not going to make anything better, it never has, it hasn’t brought my parents back, and it won’t make me snap out of this hell I inflict upon myself. No, I don’t cry, I just breathe, heavily, bite my lip, and suck it up.

The next morning I awake late to a thin line of light streaming in my window; it is a Saturday. And the noises of children running, and playing, breathing in the glory of the wind and cloudless sky, gives me incentive to get out of bed.
I stagger to the door and open it just a gar when I hear voices coming from downstairs.

“Now, tell me dear, you’re in which of his classes?” I hear my grandmother ask.
I didn’t wait to hear the answer; I look at the alarm clock on my dresser and see the time. 11:49. I must have slept so late! Who is she talking to?

“Well, that Daniel boy sure likes to soak up some sleep on a Saturday, I’ll tell you that. Would you like some tea?” I can’t distinguish the voice of the girl. I splash some water on my face, comb a brush through my hair and run down stairs. I make it down in a flash, but stop short when I see Grandma holding a pot of tea, and Angie halfway through a bite of a biscuit.
“Oh, dear, I don’t think we heard your trampling loud enough my dear boy. Come now, I was just talking to Angelina.”
“It’s Angie.”
“What was that?”
“Never mind. Uh Daniel, I came by to drop off your English book…you left it in the cafeteria, and it had your name in it, so I offered to bring it by.” She meekly said.
“Now, that was nice of her, wasn’t it Daniel. Why don’t you two go do something teenagers do on weekends? Like go to the library, or movies or—“
“We have a lot of homework to do this week. I don’t think we can do that.” I said sternly.
“We do? Oh, which subject?” Angie said, regaining her confidence, as she buttered her toast.
“You know…that big history report, the one on….American, history…”
“Oh, right. That one’s a killer. Maybe we can work on it together. Like in your room.” She hinted.
“Now? Yeah, sure.” I wasn’t exactly sure if Grandma would approve of me being alone with a girl, especially one with purple highlights and black nail polish.
“You two just go off now… Don’t you worry about me. I’ll be fine. Just don’t go doing anything teenagers do alone in bedrooms.”
“Grandma!” My face turned red, but Angie started laughing.
“Don’t you worry; we won’t be doing any of that.” She said through her laughter.
We walked up the stairs together, as Angie kept giggling.

“You got a pretty sweet deal here Daniel. Cool grandma too.”
“Yeah, you should see her around twenty-four hour soap opera marathons on Sunday nights. She breaks her knitting needles and her best liquor.”
We both laughed awkwardly as I led her into my room.

Thankfully, I’m at least not that much of an idiot where I didn’t clean my room from last night’s ordeal. It was as if nothing had ever happened when we stepped in.
“This is cozy.” She said, as she plopped herself in my desk chair.
“Are we going to study for that ‘Big killer American history test,’ or are you really going to tell me why you came.” I said.
“I told you. Your book. You forgot it.” She retorted as she started looking through my desk.
“And that’s all?” I said crossing my arms, as I proudly circled the room.
“Oh shut up Daniel! Sit down. I won’t deal with this whole macho man bull. Now, I want to apologize…”
“For what? Just now, or Friday?”
“You know what I mean.” She sighed, “I heard about the cafeteria scene. I’m really sorry, that must have been embarrassing.
“Just a little.”
“I didn’t think that witch would do that to you. I mean, you know blondes. But, it's just…your not that fat. Heck, you’re not fat at all…just a little... plump.”
“Thanks. That’s what Ashton said right before she kissed me. I knew she was up to something…she was being so nice.” Angie couldn’t meet my eyes; she ran her finger over the edge of my desk.
“You know, I’m sorry I gave you macaroni and cheese on your plate. Are you lactose intolerant or something?”
“No. I’m…I just—pasta has a lot of calories, and stuff…” I let my voice trail off. “If you don’t mind me asking, why did you say you were going to invite me to your house?” She stopped picking through my papers. And looked at me straight on.
“Well, you know…I mean you look like you could use a friend.” She said shyly, as she chipped the remains of her nail polish off.
“What do you mean by that?” I ventured to ask.
“Oh Daniel. Come on, you don’t talk to anyone, no one! And I think you’re kinda cool, but mostly a nice guy, and your not like everyone else I know.
You— you treat me well. You don’t go picking up every girl than dump her because you want to sleep with someone else the next night. You’re kind. And believe it or not that’s more important to me than having a great body.”
She said it all in one breath, than took a sigh of relief.
“Angie, listen, I’m really not what you think. I’m not that great at all, actually. You really don’t know me—“
“Daniel. There’s something else. Listen, I know there’s something wrong with you.”

I stopped short.

“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know…I just, I think you have some health problem or something. You look sick.”
“I’m fine. I don’t have any health problems. What is that supposed to mean?” I snapped.
“Daniel, don’t get all mad, I don’t need to know exactly what’s wrong, you don’t have to tell me, OK? I just want you to go to a doctor or something…whatever you need to do, just get better.” Those words stung—doctor, problem, sick—what could she mean?
“Why do you think I have a problem?” I persisted.
“Daniel, please.—she said tenderly—I don’t want to hurt you I just want you to—“
“I said what made you think I have a problem.” I let my anger show maybe a little too much. At this she took the opportunity to gain back some control in the situation, stood up, and began circling the room herself.
“You want to know what? I’ll tell you. First, you never eat lunch, but you always just say you aren’t hungry—“
“Wait I don’t—“
“I’m trying to tell you, don’t interrupt me. You always look sick. You’re losing your hair, you’re always tired, you’re…you’re teeth are pretty bad, and—and, Daniel. I’m sorry.” she said, noticing the tears start to develop in my eyes. I quickly wiped them away for her to not see me cry, she must have thought I was already pathetic enough as it was.
“I didn’t know I looked that terrible.”
“No. You, you asked—look I got to go, please, just tell someone. Ok?” she started to walk toward the door.
“Angie?”
“What?” I almost stopped her; I almost sat her down and told her the whole thing. Right there. Showed her the food under my bed, the lies, the throwing up, everything.
“Nothing. Thanks for bringing back my book.”
She nodded, and left.

How I wanted to tell her, how the weight would just be lifted off my shoulders. Just the feeling— relief. How wonderful it would be. But, how could I trust her? What if she would tell? She knows something is wrong with me, but I can’t tell her. It is the most suffocating feeling you could imagine.
I let her go. It was my one chance, and I just let her go.

more more! riveting story

omgsh more!!

2006 copyright All rights reserved


The Disordered Thoughts of Daniel

Part 5
I pass through Saturday in a haze, feeding myself lies about how I really feel. I can look in a mirror, I can tell what I am doing to myself is damaging, and now I know for sure other people can see it as well. I know I’m not getting any thinner, I tell myself I will eat small amounts of healthy food, and all will be well. But, that never happens. Day by day I lie, and it is getting worse.
I can’t stop replaying what Angie said, “I know there is something wrong with you.” It was so weird. The whole thing, her coming to my house to drop off a book that could have easily been returned to me at school; she must have come for a specific reason… To tell me she thought I was sick? It’s none of her business. No ones business at all. They have no idea what this is really like, I can’t just stop. I can’t stop throwing up, and binging and hating myself. I can’t just “suck it up” and “stop feeling sorry for myself.” It’s not that easy, I may never get better. I’m in a whirl-wind, and I can’t stop turning around and around, deeper unto my dark world.

With all my obsessive worry of what Angie thinks, and how the horrible, naked truth is finally coming out; I find myself doing the whole thing all over again. The exact thing I shouldn’t be doing. The locked door, the under the bed food, the un-rapping, the feeling of horror over how fat I’ll get, and then the throwing up, and watching it swirl down the toilet through tear filled eyes; watching my life flush down with it. Just a simple routine. It seems mundane, but the pain I feel is different tonight.
I throw myself on my bed, I’m burning, my stomach feels on fire and my head pounds like a heavy drum beat, over and over. I try to ignore it, I feel terrible every time I do this, but tonight is definitely different. I can’t breathe almost, I feel so dizzy and shaky. I turn out the lights and try to breathe deep, try to calm myself, but I can’t. The darkness above me seems to be swirling around my room. It hurts to even open my eyes. I sense a stranger filling this silent room with horror... a silence that shatters against the windows, leaving me so cold and numb. But, this feeling I do not understand is my best friend and enemy all wrapped up in one. This voice telling me everything will be fine. That pain I’m feeling is just the fat going away and I will have to bare it if I want to be like everyone else. If I want to be thin, if I want to be liked. I’ve been doing this for years and I still have not gotten any thinner, or been anymore admired. In fact, my horrid temperament and the constant expression of agony I wear on my face scares people away from even knowing me. Then why do I do it? I tell myself that I have to continue, because some day…some day, I just might be good enough. Good enough for someone to love me, and that won’t happen until I’m not so ugly, so fat, so disgusting and miserable. And I don’t know when that is ever going to happen.

Suddenly, I feel something warm and sticky in my mouth. I sit up, and try to spit it out, only to find it is blood. Just a little drizzle, but it is flowing out of my mouth unto my hand, falling through my fingers and onto my bed sheets. I clear my throat and wipe my bloody lips with the back of my hand, but it won’t stop. I feel so faint I can’t sit up anymore. My heart pounds, my head aces, I’m sweating and panting, and the blood flows. It’s too much for me to bare— I just blackout.



I open my eyes to the pale celing of my bedroom. I can see that thin light of sun streaming in my window, alerting me that it’s morning. I made it through the night. The outside of my mouth is stained and flaky with dry blood. I thought I would die, I thought I would really die. I could have. I could have been left there... I can see my Grandma come to wake me in the morning, wondering why I hadn’t been up getting ready for school. My alarm had not awakened me. She would find she couldn’t move me; her feeble voice could not bring me to consciousness. Then she would call an ambulance, but it would be too late. They couldn’t do anything about it. I can see her crying, cursing herself for not taking better care of me, screaming to God why He would let this happen; why He let her daughters only child die!? Had not enough hardship come to this family? Had she not suffered enough? I can see her walking to church, dressed in black, with a tissue crumbled up in her ageing, weak hands. I can see the casket being ushered unto the church as the bells chime. As they all morn. I can see Angie, I can see the disappointment on her face, knowing she should have made me get help. Knowing I would still be alive. And all I have before me, I have my whole life, I could have a career, finally be able to vote, and drink liquor with my friends. Get married and have children. Be happy. That could never happen if I were to just die a premature death.
I cannot take it anymore. I just don’t care what anyone thinks. Well, I do… though I know my own worth is completely diminished, I can only think of how my loss would ruin my Grandmother, and I can’t bare the thought of it. I have no where else to turn, but to Angie.


Monday came and nearly went. I almost forgot the promise to myself. I have been fine the whole day, and have not felt any worse than usual. It was just a scare, I probably will never die. I mean, what are the chances of that? Am I really that sick? Or, maybe I am but I just can’t tell myself that I am, I constantly play mind games with myself.
I walk the halls as inconspicuously as possible, for a guy that is still the talk of school. Little whispers, and snickers, pointing—I try to ignore it. I haven’t seen Angie at all today. I partly wanted to, and partly wanted to just forget the whole idea of telling her everything. But, just in case, I ask the lady at the school office for Angie White’s address. Just in case… I’ll keep it in my pocket.


Authors Note: Sorry it took so long this time, I really do appricate your feedback though!!!

wow..thats intense
u relle r an amazing writer
i could picture his funeral..it was scary!

copywright 2006 All Rights Reserved


The Disordered Thoughts of Daniel

Part 6



The weight of a little, crumbled piece of paper is horribly heavy when it contains my future in it. Just one name, with one address; I mean, maybe I could just go see her. I don’t have to tell her anything. Maybe I could get her a gift, than I would have an excuse to see her without really telling her anything important.

After more than enough time wasted on deliberation on what exactly she would like, I settle on flowers. Not exactly the most original gift I could give, but it was all I could do on short notice and a trip to the nearest drug store.

I ask a few people that I’ve seen Angie hang out with before and ask some directions to how to get there. Needless to say they are not the sort of crowd I usually hang around with, not that I really “hangout” with anyone, but, they did scare me just a bit. Jet black spiky hair with heavy piercing on every visible part of their face, (well, nearly) they wore chains, black coats and pants, a dark demeanor grazed their eyes and they stormed the halls in absent minded pain. But, under all that they seemed perfectly fine, actually; once they observed that I was an “outsider” too.

After school, on my way to her house, flowers clutched in hand, and nervously looking out the city bus window, I suddenly realize what I’m doing. I mean, look at me! I’m giving flowers to a girl who thinks I am sick and probably the sight of me is even disgusting. We don’t have anything in common, just look at the people she is friends with! Though, she is more fortunate than I, is she the only friend I have? Is she really even a friend?

Several times I almost pull the stop bar and forget the whole thing, but, something keeps telling me to just wait one more stop…just one more, until I finally reach my destination.
I step off the bus, empty of any guidance of where exactly I am. It is not the best neighborhood, and it is nearing dark, so I better find her house.

Several minutes later, I am panting from the excessive walking, and my neck has a crook in it from constantly looking over my shoulder, I swear I hear heavy footsteps trudging behind me. I am almost ready to give up when I see it, ironically enough, 2357 Flower Blossom Trail. There it is, just over a few steps, right in front of me is a little house.
Jamesville Trailer Park a half broken sign reads. I can’t stand out here any longer if I don’t want to get robbed, I have to go in, though I’m not sure how much safer it will be inside.

I double; triple check the address I had scribbled on my paper, just making absolutely sure it is here. The garage door is open, various piles of junk and garbage flow out of its mouth, and a pile of broken car parts lays scattered around the nearly covered floor. The plastic lawn furniture is upside down, and deluged in water and dirt from the last storm. Even the twisted blinds let in little light from the luminous sky.
I nock on the door, half hoping no one will answer it, and I can just get the heck out of there.

“Bernie, will you get the door!? Do I have to do everything 'round here? And stop leaving your beer cans 'round the house, don’t you know it looks bad for company!?”
“Oh, right ‘company’ you call your pain in the neck mother, company?”
“Just shut up and get the door!”

I almost ran, when the door was opened.

“Uh, hi…my name is Daniel Evens from school…I’m a, well…I know Angie, and I came to bring her these.” I awkwardly held out some flowers in front of his face. He looked at me sternly, a greasy older man with little hair on his head but more on his showing stomach. His blood shot eyes, looked as though they would devour me at the slightest wrong word uttered.
“Well, you don’t look like most that come over here…you look harmless enough. She’s in her room.” At first I thought he was joking, letting me in his house, just a stranger. I thought as soon as I stepped in he was going to pull out some unseen gun and nail me to the floor. But, he let me pass.

“Angie! You got company!” He yelled across the little house.
”Bernie, what you doin' yelling? Your fried chicken’s going cold.” Said a woman stepping in from the kitchen, her voice did not match her age. She was young, but her skin was cracked and warn from years of hard work. Her hair was the color blonde I would see in those Playboy magazines the boys at school would gawk at. She wore tight top and high heels, holding a cigarette.
“Oh, who’s this?” She purred.
“Hello, I’m Daniel Even—“
“Daniel! What are you doing here?” Angie suddenly entered, she was startled to see me there, and horribly embarrassed at me seeing her family.
“I came to bring you these.” I once more held out the flowers, but she didn’t smile.
“Well, honey, aren’t you going to properly introduce us? Can you be a lady?” the woman hissed, as she took a puff of her cigarette. Angie glared at me and then abruptly said: “Daniel; this is my dad, Bernie. Bernie, Daniel.” she started to run to her room.
“Uh, darling, what about me?” she said again, walking toward her, smiling evilly. Angie slowly turned toward us, breathing deep, trying to control her anger.
“This is my…Step Mom. Jennie…” She said, looking down at the dirty carpet.
Now I wished I really hadn’t come. And now we were all standing there—her dad, her step mom, me, Angie, and those stupid flowers.

“He says he wants to talk to you…go on now.” said Bernie, more interested in eating his fried chicken.

“Come on.” Angie said under her breath.

I quickly followed her into her tiny room, and she slammed the door behind us.

“What do you think your doing? Why did you come to my house? How did you find me? Are you paying me back for coming over to your place? Is this some kind of cruel trick?
W-Why?” She threw her hands to her face, collapsed on her half-broken bed, and wept.
I don’t know what to do, here I had come to her, thinking she was the strong and intelligent one, but seeing her cry before me let me know I was maybe not alone in my struggles.
“I mean…just look at me! Crying like some sick baby…” She said through her tears, “I’m sorry, you know…that stupid witch out there isn’t my mother, and she never will be!” He face was fuming now, red and hot, tears flowing like heavy drops of sweat.
“Angie, listen—“ I ventured to put my hand on her shoulder, she stiffened at the touch—“ You don’t know what it’s like Daniel, you have your nice, clean house, with your wonderful Grandmother, and…and you don’t have someone who…who-hurts you.” As soon as she said this she stopped and turned her head toward me, wondering if I heard exactly what she said.
“What do you mean?” I bent down beside her, near her knees; she let me hold her shaky hands in my strong ones. “What do you mean, ‘hurts’ you?” I asked as gently as I could.
“Well, you know…I didn’t mean it like that….you, you just, you didn’t hear me right—“ She drew her hands away and cleaned her tears and cleared her throat, stiffened her back, quickly regaining her confidence. “Sorry, I’m PMS’ing….you’ll have to understand.” She smiled a quick, sick smile and laughed it off. “You didn’t need to go through all that, did you? So, what can I do for you Daniel?” She said, cracking a smile, and placing her hands on her hips. “Are these for me? Their lovely.”
Her face was like a mask, expressionless to her real, deep pain She hid behind her clothes…and her funny sense of humor, it was all a lie. I saw it now, the one person I thought was strong was just like I, miserable and weak, always pretending. Little does anyone know, when the school doors close and everyone goes home, your friends leave for the day, you go back to the real world, and things change.
“Angie.”
“Yes, Daniel?” she said cheerfully.
“What do you mean, ‘hurts’ you?”

to be continued...


Authors notes: Well, in this chapter the characters kind of switch places. Daniel becoming the stronger one, while Angie shows her weeknesses. I appricate all of your feedback!! ~~~~Alex

love it. MORE

so sad..
i cant wait for more!
i hate cliffhangers!!

copywright 2006 All rights reserved

The Disordered Thoughts of Daniel
part 7


There we were, in her little space. I now know where she sleeps; her horrible sad figure rests, and maybe cries at night. Just like I do. In her windowless cell, she hides from everyone. She leaves this room a cheery, carefree girl, who has a fondness for the dark side of fashion and music. She returns to this room a morbid, numb creature, wishing she could be free from her hell.
I realize how much we are alike.

“Angie, what do you mean?” I repeated.
“Shut up Daniel! I mean nothing; I’m just a little on edge, that’s all. She, she’s an evil, bar-fly tramp. But—I didn’t mean anything more than that.”
“If I told you, will you tell me?” I asked, not giving in to her lie.
“Told me what?” She said, getting up from her bed, holding her arms close to her chest for comfort.
“What is wrong with me.”

I can’t believe I’m saying this, what am I doing? I want to tell her, I know now she is not as perfect as I thought, she suffers too, but, what if she doesn’t believe me? After all, I’m a man for God sake.

“What is wrong then?” She said nonchalantly as she sat back on her bed, just expecting me to tell her, easily and freely, like it was nothing important.
“No, no, wait…I can’t just tell you, I mean—“
“You said you would.”
“Well, I can’t—“
“Oh, well, you lied then.”
Would you stop cutting me off? Listen, I can’t just tell you my deepest secret…you would never tell me yours.” I added.
“Am I supposed to? Look, Daniel, I don’t even know you that well. Why do you need to tell me—“
“Because I don’t have anyone else.”

She stopped, sort of froze in place, realizing the importance of what I had just said. An awkward pause followed.

“I’m all you have?” She said gingerly, her voice softened. I could see she started to regret her rudeness.
“Well, yeah.” I didn’t want to admit it, how pathetic that sounds.
She lowered her head, and assumed her nervous habit of chipping her nail polish. “I’m sorry. You can tell me, Daniel.” she said, looking up at me, her glance apologetic and embarrassed. She was willing to accept me, but how could she understand? She might think I’m sick, with some disease…or something, but an eating disorder? How could I ever explain?
I started off, ready to explain.
“Well, you see, I…wait—you never answered my question!” I jumped, she had tried to take the focus off herself, and have me be the one in the hot seat.
“Daniel. I told you—“
“Please, Angie, please. If you tell me than it won’t make me feel as bad.” I pleaded.
“Tell you what? God. You are acting like such a—“
“Angie, you don’t understand—“
“But why did you come then? I mean, you wanted to tell me something, didn’t you?” She caught me.
“Well, yes, but—“
“Daniel. I won’t tell, its OK, whatever it is, it can’t be that bad.” She said softly, trying to understand.

Oh, God, but it is.

“Let me help you. Is it a disease?”
“No.”
“Cancer?”
“No.”
“Drugs, Alcohol?”
“Angie, none of that—“
“Eating disorder?”

For just that one moment, I think my heart had stopped beating. I turned around slowly to meet her eyes, and leaked out a feeble, “No.”
“No?” She said back, gently insinuating my lying.
“I-I, I have to go, I really have to go…” I hastily snatched my backpack and turned the knob on the door, not letting her see the tears begin to stream down from my eyes.
“Daniel, No. Stay here.”
She gripped my shoulders, holding me strong, not letting me go, not letting me leave.
“You can’t do that Angie, let me go—“I said, pulling away harder.
“Daniel. Just listen. I know you have one, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
I could feel myself shaking, just that cold rush of fear, that inhabits and controls your frenzied movements. The vulnerability of having someone know your secret after all these years. Having that naked, violated feeling made me want to crawl under a bed, wishing I had never let her into my life.

I weakened, she finally pinned me to her desk chair; her intense grip grasped the handles holding with all her might to not let me move.
“Angie, let me go…Now.” I felt so frail and exhausted. I partly wanted to give up, I almost wanted her to make me tell. To make me say I really do have a problem. But…at the same time, I don’t know if I can live without my eating disorder. A sad thought. How I have turned to it for comfort all these years. How, when I’m so miserable, and helpless, I turn to food for my relief. But, the source of my misery is my body, and by that, the Thoughts—those horrible Thoughts, control me, and inhabit me. I want to be free…but I want to be thin.
We were both heaving deep breaths, our eyes piercing into each others, not letting the other know they were afraid. Angie was the domineering one, I felt defenseless to her authority. I could never ask her now; she would never tell me exactly what she meant. She was too embarrassed, but so was I.
My head hung in shame for what was to come. But, the look in her eyes changed. It softened again, she drew back. Maybe she couldn’t stand to see the fat of my cheeks, red and puffy with saltwater tears. Maybe she suddenly didn’t want to stand near me anymore; I was so repulsive and worthless to her. My inner Thoughts crawled into my mind again, I could feel them gnawing at my heart, what she must think of me. Sitting here, like such a <i> dirty, worthless pig. You’re nothing, nothing!</i>
“Daniel,” She said, putting her hand to my face. “What’s wrong?”
I cringed at her touch, and drew my head away. I was breathing so hard I couldn’t speak coherently.
<i> You Pig! You don’t deserve to get better.</i>
“Stop! Stop it now!” I finally screamed aloud, clinching my hands to my ears, trying to make the noise stop.
“Daniel! Daniel, calm down. I’m sorry!” She stepped away, frightened by my outburst.
“No! Not-you—“I stuttered, whipping my profuse tears—“My thoughts, my thoughts!” My heart was beating so profusely, I could feel it thumping against my chest. Suddenly, I knew the feeling. I became dizzy, everything around me was spinning. I was shaking. Angie’s horrified face was multiplied by three, I couldn’t breathe. My body fell limp, she held me secure, as I felt myself slip off the chair. I heard one last blurry cry: “Daniel, your all I have too!”

And I blacked out. I fainted in her arms, like some overly dramatic movie, tears and all. Only, this is my life. A director won’t yell “Cut!” and we will walk away, back to our trailers, ready to shoot the next scene. I am living this. This is my world falling apart. I fell in her arms, and at that moment, I knew I was loved.

Still to be continued...

Authors notes: I know this is a bit melo-dramatic, but I wanted Daniel to have a battle with his thoughts...after all, that is the title of the story :)
~~Alexandra

it WAS a tad dramatic, but you got the point across. MORE

it is dramatic
but it made me feel more sorry daniel:]