6:55 am
Your alarm sounds, waking you from your slumber. You peel over to the other side of the bed, and the white lights from your alarm clock dance across your face. Those momentary seconds of peace slip away through your fingers as all anxieties flood into your brain. All strength from your body drains, and the raging tempest inside your stomach strengthens. You are immobile for the next hour as you struggle to find the strength to sit up without vomiting. Two more hours pass, and the nausea persists inside you. Your mother finally tiptoes past your room, so you call out her name—the words barely slip through your mouth and crackle in the air. She rushes in, quite aware of your condition, and questions what you need. “Food” you whisper. She leaves to make your breakfast—the same sausage and bread combination that has been the only thing you have been able to eat for the past two weeks.
10:30 am
You have finally finished eating in your bed, and your stomach quiets. Yet the thoughts within your head continue to rage. Gathering enough strength finally, you swing your legs over the bed, and push yourself upright, driving your feet into the cold, wooden floorboard. Your legs falter since you haven’t gained any strength in months. Easing over to the mirror, you pick up your oversized sweatshirt and examine your new body. You have lost 15 pounds in the last two months from the illnesses that wage war on your mind. Though you have always been skinny, you always fill out your figure. Now your hip bones protrude like pointy triangles, and your ribcage is a defined valley of hills and dips. Your self examination is quickly interrupted as the urge to vomit ripples throughout your body, pushing your feet towards the bathroom.
10:45am
As you sit on the cool tile in your bathroom, you try so desperately to get rid of all of your anxieties. You squeeze your eyelids tightly shut, and try to breathe as deep as possible. You try to imagine all your nerves leaving your body, but nothing is working—nothing ever works.
2:00 pm
There is no controlling your nausea today. You have vomited already, and your body has no strength left. So you just sit there, watching your show and scrolling mindlessly through pointless apps. You question if you will ever be strong again. You used to be able to chase after volleyballs and make insane plays—pushing yourself to levels of extreme athleticism. Now you can barely stand up.
6:30 pm
You awaken from nap to the smell of chicken cutlets wafting through the house. Chicken cutlets used to be your favorite meal, but the smell doesn’t even entice you anymore. Swinging your feet around the bed, you plant your feet and walk for the first time since this morning. The tempest inside your stomach has not relented as you keep worrying about the one boy that will never hurt you. Why worry about him? There is nothing wrong between you two at all, so why does my brain choose to fret over him all the time and make my whole body incredibly sick? What is the point of any of this?
10:00 pm
You force feed yourself some dinner, and some strength returns. Regardless, your bed still calls you, as it is the only place where the pain is completely relieved in all areas except your brain. Though you can stand, nothing has changed from this morning. You still have unrelenting thoughts that invade every aspect of your life and are destructive to your health. You cannot even control your own stomach because your anxiety has dug its claws so deeply within your brain. Unable to try and fight the anxieties within your brain any longer, you sink deeply into your pillow. You drift off ready to do it all over again the next day, and you ask yourself
will it ever end?
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