I stared sullenly at the girl standing across from me, completely frozen in place by what I saw.
Yes, I knew her. But this girl had changed so drastically that I hardly recognized her.

Just a few months ago, her radiant smile could be seen at a distance, compelling all around her to return it. She seemed to relish in her beautifully white and naturally straight teeth, simply because all of her friends had worn braces and she hadn't. Her laugh would echo down the empty school hallways, filling the dismal space with a sweet, melodious ring. I can still remember the way she flipped her caramel brown hair over her shoulder as she walked, or when she pulled it into a ponytail for practice. Her blue eyes were striking, drawing in all of the senior boys when she talked to them in our chemistry class. She was tan, but not overly so. Her skin had a natural glow, while so many others in our class resorted to the orange-tinged "fake bake" method. You could still see the pink tinge to her cheeks, under the faint freckles that had dotted her face since her childhood. Most importantly (in her mind), she was thin. Not skin and bones, and not overly chubby, but a healthy, average weight for someone with a height of 5'9.

I sensed her changing before my eyes during the winter of our junior year. She was a ballerina, and as an aspiring soloist, she repeatedly told me how she needed to "lengthen," as they call it in the dance world. She desired the willowy, light image that her teachers considered aesthetically pleasing. Besides, she would say, it doesn't hurt to eat more healthily.

Her new habits were anything but. She began to be obsessed with her cross training, working out until she literally could not stand up. There were several times when her mom had to pick her up from the gym because she couldn't drive her own car home. In addition, she ate less and less in order to "cut her portion size down." When she had large meals, she sliced her food into small pieces and picked at them, eating very little. She began to shrink, her bone structure becoming more pronounced.  Her magnetic smile disappeared, replaced by a despondent stare.

Not only was she shriveling on the outside, but her personality was dying on the inside. Bitterness and staleness replaced her happy disposition. It wasn't long before she was also beginning to be affected by depression, which fueled her apathy. She lost all interest in daily joys and spent her free time in her room, staring out her window at the frozen winter landscape.

Now, looking at her, I can see that there isn't much left. She appears as little more than a decorated skeleton. Her skin is now an ashen grey. Her hair is still brown, but far duller than what it used to be. Her eyes are glazed over and shadowed by the dark circles surrounding them. Bruises cascade over her skin because her body is so sensitive to the slightest of impacts. 

Tears roll down my cheeks as I continue to stare at her fragile state. Before long, I notice that her face is glistening with tears, too.

I look into the mirror in self-loathing. She can't be me. It's not possible for someone to change so quickly.
After a few moments, I collect myself and face my reflection.

Because this stranger, I realize, is what I have become.  I’ve been hollowed out, slowly dissipating into nothingness.

I am a ghost, a faint image of my former self, slowly dissolving into the shadows.