The looking glass is staring at me and it's telling me that there's a girl.
One with bright, curious brown eyes, a button nose she hates and a pair of lips she loves. Her face gradually turns pink and warm. She knows what she's doing is wrong and unkind, yet her body won't listen and her heart won't forgive. She pulls her hair back in a ponytail and lowers her body forward with two fingers sticking down her throat. She jabs, she rubs, and she inhales the scent of the toilet because she's read somewhere that doing so will make it easier. She imagines. Rubbish. Faeces. Earthworms. Maggots. And all the things she fucking hates. People included. She thinks. About all the calories she's consumed just five minutes ago. The Oreos, four of them; the muesli, her mother's that she discreetly stole; the mango, the raspberries, the salad leaves, the chicken, the almonds.
She calculates in all mathematical functions. Plus, minus, multiply, divide, equals...a monster. One that can't control her cravings or her addiction. She tries harder, she goes deeper. Her bare skin rubbing the leaf-shaped flap of tissue that she now know is called the epiglottis that sits at the end of her tongue. Her nails are scratching against the back of her throat. It hurts, but she says the pain is only momentary. She prays that it will all be over soon; that if this time she can undo every bad thing she did, then she will never do it again. Never EVER. Because she knows that if she feeds it, this monster will grow out of her control. But today, just today, she will let it free. As long as it's undoing her mistakes, then maybe she will get to feel free too.
Her stomach grumbles. Loudly. But she isn't hungry. It's a sound she's familiar with. She can't describe how it feels to have food travelling backwards but she knows that she feels better when it does. Her reflection in the water turns murky and grey and all she recognises are the bits of chicken and muesli combined in a strange, dirty, dough-like mixture.
But it's not over yet. That was only a small fraction of what she ate. Tonight she promised herself that she would let it all out, so that once it does, her body will burn calories from lunch and breakfast. Only when there's nothing left to burn will she be happy.
Unfortunately, she's not one to break promises either.
She walks over to the sink half an hour later and runs the tap over her fingers, watching the residue tango with the water and swirl into the drain. She looks up at the looking glass and she sees a beautiful young lady. Pretty eyes, thick eyebrows and well-defined cheekbones that protrude. She tries to smile but she can't. A strand of her hair has fallen loose so she tucks it behind her ear. She stares. Blankly. Confused. Disappointed. All at the same time. She sighs.
Why do you do this to yourself, she wonders. And a hand comes slapping across her cheek.
Why do you, she asks again and another slap follows.
You are perfect, she says.
Yes, you are. Believe it. She repeats.
But after several attempts, she knows she doesn't mean it. And she laughs. Dryly. At the joke that she's grown to become.
The phone buzzes. The music stops. She must go now.
She rinses her mouth and wipes the guilt off her face. Closed eyes, deep breaths, in and out. Inhale. Exhale.
Open, says the looking glass.
And there it was, the familiar tear that runs down her left cheek.
She's not broken, only damaged. Just unhappy and trying to figure out why.
But there's always hope. That one day, she can fix things, and go back to the way she was. Because her life is perfect, and the mirror reminds her that.
The gushing of the water echoes in the bathroom, and with it, her sins flushed away for good. Except all that remains is the guilt she harbours. One that lives and feeds the caged-up monster that comes out to play in the brightest of days, and in the loneliest of nights.
