no.

i have a problem with telling people no. 
but it was october, i was numb. 
and no became my favorite word.
no, i’m fine. 
no, i’m not hungry. 
no, i already ate. 
no, i’m too busy. 
no, i just don’t feel good. 
no, i don’t want to. 
no. 
my friends started to ask why i wasn’t eating at the lunch table. 
i told them i wasn’t hungry and that i’d eat when i got home. 
but what i didn’t tell them was that it felt as if all of the butterflies in my stomach had died. 
november it was because 
“nothing looked good” 
i was hungry, it hurt, but i didn’t want it.
december it was because i thought i didn’t deserve to be alive, so why should i deserve to eat. 
the pain started to hurt a little less. 
christmas break is when all my emotions that i had hidden for 1,825 days, decided to spill out the color red from my arms.
red is my favorite color to wear, so i started wearing red stripes. 
december 14, 2020. six hours of waiting. 
six hours of crying. yellow grippy socks and a gown. 
the gown of a princess whose crown fell a little too far out of reach. it’s beautiful pieces scattered on the floor of her rapunzel tower. 
5 days. each 17 hours long. 
plastic beds. foam doors. no windows. yellow masks with the wires cut out. 
lots of coloring and playing cards alone. hearing “can you poke your head out?” so many times a day. 
timed phone calls before bed. 
worst of all though, was the three especially unappetizing meals a day and a snack. 
january i still felt like i didn’t deserve to feed myself. 
my stomach telling me i was hungry wasn’t as frequent anymore.
february was when it became more about the number on the scale and less about it being disgusting. 
i wanted to be happy. 
to me, being happy is the synonym of being skinny.
128, not enough 124, still not enough, 121, better, 117, just a little more, 111, more, 105. 
july, small but still not small enough.