Wednesday, April 2, 2008

Age 19

I am 19.

When I look at old pictures of me, I cry. I cry at how pretty I was. How that girl disappeared. How I fear I'll never find her again.

I wipe my tears away only to cry again when I remember how sick I was. How everyday I had a stomachache. How if I was awake too long, my stomach would hurt so badly I wanted to curl up and die. How I worked out when everyone else relaxed, and how eventually I couldn't eat a full meal anymore. How I spit out every bite behind my napkin.

And I wipe my tears away only to cry again when I remember how my jeans began to fall down. How I would lie on the ground, admiring the valley between my hips and ribs, and swear nothing was as beautiful.

And I once again, wipe away those tears only to cry again when I remember how fast the weight came back. How with medicine and depression I became literally twice my size.

And I look at those old pictures and cry, because, I was so damn beautiful.