FicWad

Hunger; it’s what you are, will be, and always have been.

All you really can do is play along with life and hope that you sometime get it right. I should keep that in mind, but I can’t help but classify myself as a person with no life. My whole life involves around my sickness and concerns, that I have no time to live. Lately what have been keeping me going is the thought of one day recovering. But is this just a dearly fantasy of mine? Will I ever recover to a normal life?

As I sit in the corner of the bar, I can’t help but stare at the people around me. People fascinate me, and I can’t help but envy every single one of them. Now I don’t know them or ever seen them, but I have a feeling they all play along with life. I wish I was as brave, because lately I haven’t been sure if it’s death I’m afraid of, or if it’s living. If it’s living, I’m totally screwed.
The light is dimmed, and the curtains at the few windows that are actually there, are pulled over. Candles at every table are what keep the deep dynamic and dark mood in the small bar.

I take a sip at my fifth beer that night. I don’t usually hang around at bars, but this night I felt like doing something different. Something that involved getting drunk.

It’s quite noisy; people chatter around with everyone, laughing and someone even vomiting. It’s a grotesque place, and I don’t know why I picked it. Maybe because I wanted to fall down in misery this night, and drown myself in my sorrows that has been soaring around me for months. Maybe that’s why, or maybe it’s quite the opposite; maybe I wanted to sit around and quietly mock everyone around me that got drunk for no specific reason. Am I a that kind of person now?

I start feeling dizzy and soon get a blurred vision. Is it because of the alcohol or no amount of food for the day? I quickly find my way to the greasy bathroom at the end of the bar, knocking down a few chairs on my way. Someone screams after me, cursing. I nearly even notice this as I bend over the sink and vomit all over. I feel as the last bit of strength is being sucked out of me and ends up in the sink. I shake like a leaf, and I find it hard to stand. I wipe my mouth with my sleeve, and look into the dirty mirror on the wall. And there she is; the girl with no soul. I now welcome you the girl who lost everything, even her own shadow. She’s now just a skeleton…an empty vessel that should been gone long ago. As I think this, I can’t help but welcome the horrible thought; I now live in a shadow of my own hunger. My life is now an obsession of food; it’s now my life, my obsession, my love and my hobby. Where is the orderly, controlled, effective Jenny?

“Who are you?” I ask the girl in the mirror. I know it’s me, but I can’t help but feel like the girl in the mirror is living its own life besides being me. As I wait for a reply I spit at the mirror. I hated, hated the girl in the mirror. She’s just a facade, someone who’s pretending to be someone else. It can’t be me…can it?

“Go away…just disappear.” I then whisper. But no, she doesn’t disappear. She still stays there, looking like an idiot. Her green eyes blink of tears, and her makeup is smudged all over her face. “Fuck you.” I then walk away. I disappear along with the reflection.

It’s dark when I walk home. It’s raining and I’m soon soaked. I should get a car, but I have too little money for that. I only just get around with my bills.

The next day I’m at my shrink. I then hear from him that I have to go to a psychiatric hospital because of my loss of weight lately, I’m not surprised. But I still cry myself to sleep.

Tomorrow is the day where I have to face my fears.

I now welcome you my life in psychiatric hospital. Will I even survive?



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