Dying With Love

97, 97, 97!

It's been two weeks since I left the hospital, school was kind of lonely. The only person who would talk to me was Jake. Even at home, my brother who was once my best friend,  now he was a stranger.  I have a check up on my weight. Which I know has dropped back down, the lowest it's been actually, 97 pounds. Which meant that I would be staying at the hospital once again. Force fed, go to "school", force fed, be bored for hours, force fed, more boredom, sleep, and repeat. No visitors just me and sometimes hanging out with Jade, Isaiah, or Noah. Jade was leaving soon, she just has physical therapy but I wouldn't see her much anymore. Isaiah is getting higher up on the donor list. He needed new lungs and he deserved them, he could get out of this hospital. Noah's condition was getting worse, I could tell but he wouldn't admit it. His hair begun to fall out even worse from chemo. Every time I see him he has a ball cap and a hoodie on his head.
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I was lead back to my old hospital room and got my stuff situated. Nobody has understood what this feels like, the thought of eating sickens me itself. And when I d0 eat I want to burn all the calories each and every one. It's like my weight is being shouted at me, they tell me it's 97 pounds but in my world, I feel much heavier. Like 97 pounds is too much. Like I need to be perfect and if I'm not I'm a disgrace. Get taller,loose weight, smile more. I'm constantly tired and I'm always colder than anyone else. 97,97,97! I always drink as much water as I can because it'll help me loose weight. 97, 97, 97!The more water and the less food the bigger the weight drop. From the number 97 repeating in my head getting louder and louder the more you say it, to 96,95,94,93. They tell me I can't be this small, that they shouldn't be able to see every bone in my body. That this is unhealthy but I see it the exact opposite. The less calorie intake the healthier. 97,97,97! The number is screaming in my head and I'm ready to have a breakdown. 97,97,97!
A tear strolls down my face and I scream as loud as possible trying to cover up the number in my head. 97,97,97! Nurses and doctors rush into my room. My back against the wall, my knees brought up to my chest, and my hands reaching backwards into my hair and grabbing ahold of it, hard. They try to ca me down but all I hear is 97,97,97! Why won't it stop? 97,97,97! I feel my tears as they race down my face. I scream again, but can't seem to block out the number. 97,97,97! Someone wraps their arm around me and I put my head on their shoulder recognizing the smell as Noah. Suddenly the yelling shushed down to a whisper and then disappears. I look up at him and he forces a sympathetic smile. My eyelids become very heavy while my tear ducts ache. They shut and the void of blackness consumes me.