So it's been a while since I've written, and I threw this together pretty quickly. I'm not totally sure where I'm going with it, so we'll see if I decide to add anymore to it.
“Ariana!” My name travels up the stairs, bellowed by my mother.
“Yea?” I say.
Dead air.
“Fuck” I whisper under my breath, throwing down my copy of Seventeen. “Coming!” I reply, leaving my room and trotting down the wooden steps. I walk through the living room, where my little brother sits on the couch, engrossed in some fancy new video game. “Hey Brandon” I say over my shoulder as I saunter into the kitchen. He nods in reply. “Whatcha need?” I ask my mom, who is elbow deep in ground beef.
“Can you set the table? I’m a little caught up here.” my mom says.
“Sure” I agree, begrudgingly. Why do I have to do everything? “Where are we eating?”
“Dining room table tonight Ari” my mom answers, without taking her eyes off the meal she is preparing. Again? Ugh.
I sigh and trudge back into the dining room, dishes in hand.
After dinner, I jogs back up the stairs to my room. I plop myself back down onto my bed, and my head sinks into my pillow. The plastic paper crinkles as I pick up my newest copy of Seventeen. Perusing the pages, I look longingly at the girls staring back from the glossy pages, plastered in makeup and fake smiles. I study each figure carefully as if they hold some well-guarded secret. If only my thighs had a gap like that. I wish I had her hipbones. I wish other girls wanted my body like I want theirs. I wish I wanted my body. I think as I absentmindedly graze my hand over the top of my right thigh, the place where I keep all my dark thoughts engraved into red and purple scabs and scars. Finished with my magazine, I toss it off the bed. It may only be eight o'clock, but I'm exhausted. I'm tired of feeling numb. Tired of feeling empty. Tired of not living. I drift off to sleep, my head filled with thoughts of escape.
