Misconceptions 》Styles

16.00

     I start jogging once I get far enough, knowing that if I keep sprinting, I'll drop and there won't be any picking myself up this time. I couldn't take it anymore. This was the weakest that I had ever been, and I hated it. I felt powerless, useless, like I didn't even have control over my own body. I hated it even more that food would fix everything. Because it would also destroy everything. Everything I had worked for for so long. I wouldn't let it happen, I couldn't.

    After jogging for a few minutes I skid to a stop, panting and pressing my hands against my knees. My heart was pounding, rattling around in my chest so rapidly I thought it would pop. I block my eyes as a car zooms past me, bright headlights blinding me due to the contrast to the darkening sky. I stumble backwards, my head pounding and vision blurring. My breathing is heavy and uneven and I clutch onto my head, trying to get my head to stop hitting. I wish that car would have hit me.

     You and me both, sweetheart. We all know the world would be better off without you.

      Waste of space.

      Excuse for a life.

      Idiotic slag.

     Weak. You're weak, weak, weak. I bet you're hungry, right? I bet you want to eat a cheeseburger right now. I bet you want pizza and crisps and pastries and bagels and anything you can get your fat arse hands on. Don't you? We both know you're stupid. Weak. That you would throw everything I gave you away. That you would just ruin it all.

      I press my lips together and clench my fists, willing my hands to stop shaking. Why couldn't the voices just go away? I inhale a sharp breath and force myself to keep walking, one hand at my side, trying to diminish the pain a bruise was sending through my body, and the other rubbing small circles into my temples. My head hurt so badly, I thought it was going to explode.

     What was I going to do about Harry? He knew. He knew and he was going to ruin everything. He wouldn't even let me have this one thing, this thing that I had created and had control over and had been perfecting over the past few years. He had to destroy everything that he touched. He had to destroy me. It was his fault that I was like this, he made me into this monster and now he wanted to undo it? Fuck him. This was my excuse for a life and my revolting body and I could do whatever the fuck I wanted to it. 

     I try to block the light from oncoming cars away with my hands and because I can't run anymore, I walk. If you could call it that. I felt like I was crawling everywhere, moving slowly or not at all. I hated myself. I hated myself more than anything. I couldn't do anything right. I couldn't even keep a fucking secret from Harry. I couldn't lose weight, I couldn't be pretty, or happy, or loved, or okay, or anything. The only thing I was good at was being a fuck up, and I had perfected that over the years.

     I disappointed every single person that surrounded me at one time or another. But what could they expect? They put so much pressure on me to be perfect, to be a good role model, to never do anything wrong because it would mess up my image. Randy expected me to always look beautiful and ravishing and thin and picture perfect. I bet she wouldn't approve of my dull skin, how it looked like it was being dried out, shriveling up. My mother claims she wanted me to be happy, yet she forced me into this business. She forced me into being around Harry for most of my life, and the both of them ruined me. They didn't care about me, either one of them. They only used me for their advantage, only spoke to me and feigned concern when it suited them. Besides the occasional message every other month or so, I hadn't seen my mother, nor have I spoken to her. That didn't stop her from collecting her part of my check every week. It didn't stop her from flashing a smile in front of the cameras, saying we had such a great relationship, telling the media that she was so proud and that we were as close as a mother and her daughter could be. That we were best friends and spoke every night.