My phone buzzes and falls off the edge of my desk bringing me out of my absentminded state. It clatters on the floor. Without thinking I push my chair to lean down to get it. A sharp pain fires through my chest and stomach faster than a bolt of lightning. I gasp and topple off the chair, unable to hold myself up and smash my forehead on the sharp edge of the desk. Pain soars through my skull and my arms give way as I land on the hard floor. I don't feel like I can cry anymore. My body heaves as I sob through the pain but no tears can escape anymore. I rest my face on the cool of the wooden floor boards and fumble for my phone. When I find it, it is unscathed much to my relief. I unlock it and look at the message app. A little red circle tells me that I have one hundred and seventy-eight messages. I lock it and attempt to throw it against my wall but am too weak and it hits my bean bag instead. I catch myself in my floor to ceiling mirror that is next to my desk. Blood is trickling down my forehead but I can't feel it. I ignore the parts of my body where I see the bones jutting dangerously far out and instead look at the parts where the fat clings on for dear life to protect my bones. The tears break free and make a small pool on the floor at the side of my head. Desperately, I try and find the strength to wipe them away but I can't move.
