A Story of Losing

I stared at my face in the mirror and tears rolled down my cheeks. That reflex that took place every time I see what has been left of myself in the mirror. I stared into this lifeless greyish face that has lost its round youthful cheeks and brushed my fingertips along its edge. That time, I could feel the bones of my skull. I could feel my cheekbones and the edginess of my chin. My eyes followed my finger and I saw a visible rib cage. I looked at my knees and I could clearly see the bones.

Who is she?

I looked back at her face, or what’s left of it, and my tears blurred it out. I sat on the wet bathroom floor and put my arms around myself. And wept.

A couple of months later I am back at my parent’s house. I stare down at the changing digits on the glass weight balance and the number on the balance is a number I have always wanted to see. A number I knew that if I have ever gotten to see I would have reached the perfect weight.

I have lost 8 kilograms in just a couple of months. Something I would have never ever imagined would happen to me. I haven’t even tried to go on a diet in a very long time. Thus, reaching this perfect weight without trying was a beautiful surprise. A beautiful surprise from a horrible depression that has swallowed me for the past couple of years. But sometimes, sometimes, there is a beautiful ending.


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