I stare vividly at the contours of the red velvet cupcake not even 5ft away from me and wish nothing more then to sink my teeth deep within its divine aroma. I'm not hungry though and i can't remember a time that i ever was. My stomach begs to differ though, the angry growls emanating from its emptiness contradicting my very thoughts. I catch my reflection in the window that i sit by and i am struck speechless by what i see. The hollowness of my eyes are so prominent against my pale and unhealthy skin that i must look away. Everybody that i love, which is dwindling still, tells me that i have a problem. What they don't realize is that i don't have a food disorder and i am not anorexic. At the age of 16 i weigh in at exactly 90 pounds. When the doctor told me i couldn't help but feel a huge gratitude and happiness so i couldn't understand why my parents broke down crying. Don't they know what i LOVE being skinny? That nobody could ever call me fat when i was anything but.
When i was little i used to believe that the only monsters in life were the ones under my bed. Now i know better. Growing up i remember the harsh names that the neighborhood kids would call me, their words daggers meant for the heart. I was fat, obese even and no matter where i escaped to solitude never found me. Their words, always in the back of my mind, drove me to such extremes that the only place that i could take refugee was in my room as i watched the blood trickle from my wrist down to the length of my arm. Because while i couldn't control the teasing and taunting, at least i had control over that. But now, as i sit here in this cafe staring into the eyes of some stranger that people insists on calling by my name, i know that i have a problem. No longer am i eating my life away, but starving it day by day. And i realized at that moment that i can no longer live this way. I maneuver myself towards the counter and ask in a voice that's finally starting to sound like my own, "One red velvet cupcake please."