Chapter 23

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   Paul's pov

  I remained curled up on the rough carpet for a good few minutes. Not crying, even though I felt like it, but instead just breathing heavily and trying to make the lump in my throat and the tightness in the chest disappear all whist tightly pinching the tube.
   I didn't want to do this. I can't do it. Every time I calmed down I fired right back up again. Everytime I get any sense of security it gets ripped away from me and I'm put into hospital. I just want the last month to dissappear from existence completely.
   Better yet, I wish I was a teenager in Liverpool again. Free of troubles, not caring about what people thought and, above all, not having to mentain some sort of perfect image I have now I'm a Beatle... I wish I wasn't a fucking Beatle.

   I paused for a few seconds, I relaxed for a second and my body fell limp. Did I want to be a Beatle? Did I really? Everything seemed so much easier before I was one. But again, love the band.
   Just as a thought the tube I had stopped pitching as I relaxed carried on with the mushed up food. My body tensed once again and I pinched it right away. I could never escape what I've gone for even a second.

   I stayed on the floor for a few more minutes. Just listening to the breeze bang the oak tree branches against the bay window as I thought. Eventually my body finally gathered the strength to pull myslef up. Luckily no one had come looking for me so I tiptoed to the bathroom so I didnt disturb the boys downstairs and stared at myslef in the mirror.

   I was a fucking mess. I'm a fucking Beatle, act like it!

   I pulled open the wooden cabinet and Braught out a comb and a paper clip. Slowly I combed my dirt brown hair into my signature style until I was happy with it. Next it picked up the bag I had in my hoodie pocked and pulled it open. I inspected the wierd, brown sludge it contained. The sheer thought of digesting that made my stomach churn. Thinking quickly, I opened the toilet seat and poured half of the bag into the toilet before inspecting the actual packet, I'd pour out more later.

   "750 calories per bag, three to one bag(s) a day depending on doctors recommendations"

   I mumbled the writing under my breath. 750 calories?? Honestly, I couldn't remember the last time I ate that many calories in a day! And now they expect me to eat that or more? Fuck no, I can't do that.

   My eyes glanced back to the paper clip I had left discarded on the counter and picked it up before fastening it to the bottom of the tube. Stopping the flow of the remaining liquid without me having to pinch it. Perfect.

   Before I left the bathroom I shaved my face and did a few other random tasks to help my appearance before I retreated towards my bedroom again where I opened the window and let the refreshing cold hair sweep into the room. I stayed with my eyes closed just listening to the sounds around me before I pulled myself back on task to get ready for this interview thing we had to do. I was a Beatle not a bird, I can't go crying constantly.

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  So I'm super unhappy with this story. The first three chapters were great but I've sorta fucked myself over because I didn't plan ahead and shit. I'm still going to finish the story so don't anyone worry I just needs ask if you'd all be interested in reading a different Ed fic I wrote one alongside this one?

What I'm thinking is:

°Paul was teased for being chubby in his childhood so I'd like to place it into the pre beatles time.

  °I'd plan ahead a lot more and really put more effort into making my grammar and writing more enjoyable and easy to read.

  °I'd include the slow slope into an eating disorder which I left out this fic.

  °I'd probably make "prejudice" about the Ed because my initial plan for it was a little ambitious so I'll probably conjoin my plan for prejudice with nothing's gonna change my world because that'd be easier for me.

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