I wake up to my bird alarm, and I don't recognize where I am. Is this a hospital room? My breathing quickens, and I leap out of bed, running around trying to figure out where I am. I open up drawers. I have some clothes, and there are some recognizable clothes, but I can't figure them out too.
I start shaking. Is this my roommate's clothing? I look in the mirror. Still in my ALDC merch. Was I kidnapped? I go into a panic, looking through my phone. It's the next day. Is my razor still there? I feel through my case, and it's there.
I keep running around in a panic, desperate trying to figure out where I am. I curl up into a ball near the locked door and just cry. I'm going to die. I don't know where I am, who I'm with, where I am, who's going to hurt me.
"Lilly? Lilly, why are you crying?" a girl with a very familiar voice asks me.
"H-How do you know my name? And where am I? Why am I not on the bus?" I ask, horrified that she knows my name.
"Lilly, I'm Pressley. You're in London. You wouldn't wake up, so we just took you to the hotel room. Are you okay?" Pressley says, and I uncurl, opening my eyes a bit more to look around.
It does look like a hotel room. A really nice one, in fact. I go grab my pill bottles and immediately jack myself up with medicine. I want to just shove them all down my throat.
"Oh, and also, I think there may be something in between your phone case and your phone. There was something distinct in it, but I was too tired to check it out," Pressley casually reveals, and I freeze.
She felt my razor. I quickly close the pill bottles and I go silent, grabbing my clothes, and heading to the bathroom. She's going to force you to show you what it is, Lilliana. Pressley's going to see your razor. You're screwed.
I should probably get ready anyway. Today is "tourist day." We're going to Buckingham Palace, taking some photos on Abbey Road, which is very nicely named, and going to this tea house. Tea doesn't have many calories, so I'll get to actually enjoy the tea house if I'm lucky.
I put on this very elegant white floral dress from Nordstrom, some dusty coral wedges from Rackroom Shoes, and a pair of flower stud earrings from Claire's. I do my hair in this half-up half-down crown braid situation, securing it with a holographic bow from Claire's. My hair is very thin, and a bunch of clumps fall out, but it still looks good.
I put on some very natural, but pink makeup, and cover my cuts. I need to put on more and more makeup. My wrists are practically purple at this point. Almost as bad as my bruised ankles.
After I transfer my razor to a thicker olive green phone case with little white flowers, I see Pressley has gotten dressed in the main room. She looks so much more beautiful than me in her yellow dress with flowers all over it, a little braid on either side of her face. You're never going to be as beautiful as Pressley, Lilliana.
"Oh my gosh, you're not gonna believe this. Mom just texted me that Ms. Abby is planning to sneak us into the Lion King production going on tonight!" Pressley exclaims, munching on her protein bar breakfast.
"Sneak?" I ask, giggling.
"I don't really think she has a plan, but I hope we get to see it! I've been wanting to go since it came out!" Pressley gushes.
"Seems fun, but I hope the death scene isn't that bad, if we make it in, that is," I chuckle.
"Why don't we go down to the hotel lobby? It's really pretty, and I want you to see it before we head off to Buckingham Palace," Pressley suggests, and I give a grateful smile, nodding.
"Oh, and by the way, there was a huge piece of dirt in my phone case. Thanks for the notice," I lie, making sure that I manage that question.
"No problem. And I'm sorry that we didn't try harder to wake you up so you wouldn't have a panic attack," Pressley apologizes.
"It's not your fault. It's my stupid brain. Why don't we go now," I dismiss, smiling weakly.
In this outfit, I feel like a princess. We skip down the hallways, and even the hotel hallways are very well done. Everything's white and pretty. The elevators are very clean as we go down them. The doors open and... wow. Everything is so pristine and nice. It's like a palace. So pristine, clean, and white.
"It's beautiful!" I whisper.
"Lilly, let's go claim a couch set," Pressley calls, and I quickly go to another couch set.
Brady and Hannah arrive next. They also have a bunch of flowers graced over them. Hannah is even wearing a flower crown. I am determined to make the guards have a reaction, whether a smile or not, something more than the stone cold expression they lace upon their face.
"Ok, here is the question: is soup a food or a drink?" Brady asks randomly.
"Soup is a food. Cereal and milk is a food, so shouldn't soup be a food?" Hannah reasons.
"Yeah, but then that would be under the pretenses that cereal and milk is a soup," Pressley argues.
"Cereal and milk is a soup, though," Hannah points out.
"There are no cold soups out there, though," Brady says.
"Gazpacho soup is a cold soup," I add.
"Well, I haven't seen a restaurant that has soup in the drink menu," Hannah realizes.
"I haven't seen desserts in a normal menu," Pressley argues back.
"Okay, okay. Final verdict, is soup a food or a drink?" Brady asks, controlling the debate.
"Food," I announce.
"Drink," Pressley says.
"Food," Hannah votes.
"Well, I think it's a drink, so we're tied. Gia, Sarah, get over here!" Brady calls over, all of us suddenly viewing Gia and Sarah emerging from the elevator.
"Do you guys think soup is a drink or a food?" Pressley asks.
"Oh, easy. Food," Gia says, and at the same time, Sarah claims. "Drink."
"So we're tied. Three for three," Hannah mutters.
"We should let Ms. Abby decide when we meet her at Buckingham Palace," I suggest, and we all murmur in agreement.
"Girls, Ubers are here!" Ms. Ashley calls out, and we all race to the door, excited for Buckingham Palace.
"Why don't we all sit in the back row and do one of those try not to laugh challenges! I still have data on my phone!" Gia suggests.
We all immediately head to the back row bench. If I don't laugh during this entire thing, it'll be a miracle. We have to keep track of our scores, and we have to be honest about it. Gia starts up the video right as we start moving.
The first video is of a bike race about to start. However, the gate that keeps them all in place goes down too late, and they all fall down. Sarah and Pressley laugh. I want to as well, but I also want to win.
The next video is of a dude on an insanely fast treadmill. Like, his legs are just wisps in the air. But he actually doesn't fall off, so it's not funny to me. Then, there's a video of a toddler saying, "Hey, man." That earns a laugh out of me and Gia.
One point for me, I guess. Next, a belly-flop video. This normally doesn't get me, but the flute accompaniment is a little funny. The next clip is of a guy lifting weights, which is normal until another comes along, dislocates his shoulders, and starts doing biceps curls behind him.
None of us laugh at that one. It's more surprising than funny. Brady laughs at the next one though, the one of a dog with a toilet paper roll stuck on its nose. This keeps going on and on until Hannah is crowned the winner of not laughing with a single laugh.
And as if on cue, the Buckingham Palace comes into view. We all run to the window, gawking at the big palace. We have to park a couple blocks away, but we all race to the palace. I lose my pace after one block, walking with the moms instead.
Ms. Abby, Ms. Gianna, and Mackenzie are running late, so we get to take some photos on the railing. I do a leg extension, making sure to not let the dress look too weird. Then we start walking to this one guard.
"If anybody can make this guard have any reaction, you get five dollars!" Mom shouts.
My goal is to get him to be grossed out by my contortion. Brady starts by doing some leaps and some other crazy ballet moves, but the guard isn't impressed. Hannah is too scared to try, not wanting to disappoint the Queen. So is Gia. Sarah does a back tuck, and gets a small raise of the eyebrows. Mom hands her five bucks.
Pressley can't think of anything creative enough, so now it's my turn. Everybody's rooting for me. I start by falling into a backbend. No reaction. I roll into a chest stand, bringing my butt to my head. I push my arms up into a contortion handstand, going into a split handstand.
Finally, I get the smallest of claps from the guard when I do my spider. Mom keeps the five bucks in her purse. She'll probably give it to me when we get back to the hotel. I stand up, smile, and rejoin my friends.
"How are you not dead?" I hear a voice ask behind me, and I scream in surprise, whipping around.
It's just Mackenzie. I double over, clutching my chest as the waves of shock slowly exit.
"A lot of stretching and learning to dislocate your body," I answer through breaths, stumbling to find my answer.
"I didn't mean to scare you!" he says, giving me a hug.
I freeze, feeling very uncomfortable. Once he let's go, I give him a thumbs-up and disappear into the background near Hannah and Mom.
"Ms. Abby, we need your opinion on something: is soup a food or a drink?" Sarah asks.
"Hmmm," Ms. Abby ponders. "I would have to say food, because you can't put it in a glass without getting odd looks," she finally decides.
Hannah, Gia, and I high-five in victory. Ms. Abby gives us an odd look.
"Wait, so Pressley, Brady, and Sarah, you three think soup is a drink?" Ms. Abby asks.
"It's a liquid!" Pressley grumbles in fake anger, laughing a bit afterwards.
"Ok, so anyway," Ms. Gianna says, moving attention, "So the tea is getting pushed to Easter Sunday because we got tickets to go to the Buckingham Palace Garden Tour! How exciting is that!"
We all cheer in excitement. Flowers look so pretty! And for once in London, it's a bit sunny! We follow Ms. Abby, slowing down a bit because the roads are a bit tricky with her wheelchair. Eventually, we get to the entrance, and a tour guide meets us at the beginning.
We absolutely cannot touch anything other than the pebbles that our shoes touch. But it's so hard to resist. I have to fidget my hands to not touch the tulip and the pedicured bushes. I can't even listen to the history! Everything's so pretty!
"I want to take a photo of all the girls, and Abby at the rose garden," Ms. Gianna tells us.
By now, the term, "girls" has really become a blanket term for, "the girls and Brady." The junior elite team, if you will. I guess this is why we had to wear flowers. We look just like the roses in the rose garden!
"Don't get pricked! Smile!" Ms. Gianna yells.
I let out a big grin, as multiple snaps from multiple phones go off.
"And silly face!" Ms. Ann yells.
I roll my tongue and stick it out, crossing my eyes. That's my go-to silly face. Right after though, my mind drifts onto what we're having for lunch. I want to save some for dinner as well. As we keep walking, I do the math in my head.
Most likely, we'll have dinner in the hotel, so I can purge that or even better, skip it. For lunch, I'll try to eat within my 200 calorie limit. The tour keeps dragging on and on, and even though everything is very pretty, our tour guide's voice is very monotonous and drab.
Slowly, over the next hour, we go through many many different types of flowers, and Sarah, Pressley, and I all start hanging towards the back, getting a little bored and tired. We try to stay upbeat and happy when talked to, but it's tiring. Out of the three of us, I have the most stamina because I have the most practice of being chatty when I'm tired.
Eventually, the tour ends. We all say thank you to the tour guide, Ms. Abby, and Ms. Gianna. The next stop, Abbey Road. Since it's a good twenty-minute drive, we all decide to hail taxis.
It's a little stuffy, but the cab man is nice. I'm in the middle, between Mom and Pressley. Pressley and I are looking at Pinterest photos of poses. We only have one shot of a photo, since we are on a road.
"Won't Ms. Abby, just tell you guys what to do?" Mom points out, and Pressley and I look at each other with a why-didn't-I-think-of-that expression.
Both of us burst out laughing in our stupidity. Why didn't we think of that? I do have a pose in mind just in case Ms. Abby does tell us to go freestyle. I'm scared that we're going to be hit by a car. Maybe I shouldn't do this. It's too dangerous.
I just imagine myself getting hit by a car. So disastrously... beautiful. I would finally die a quick and painless death. I write out in my Notes app: I want to get hit. I look at my social media. More comments about me being fat, or too skinny. More comments saying I shouldn't be there, and more comments saying how I'm disgusting. More motivation.
But I know nobody will hit me voluntarily. Ugh. The kindness of people is sometimes so annoying. I cannot deal with this world! As I ponder my own existence for the billionth time, we pull up to Abbey Road.
Mom and Ms. Ashley pay for the cab, and we exit. Okay, time to die or not to die. Ms. Abby, Ms. Gianna, and Mackenzie are already there. We say hello to them and they start suggesting poses for everybody.
"I think if they all just did a double stag, like they're running, that would look really pretty," Ms. Ashley suggests.
"That's basic Ashley. Done a million times before," Ms. Abby vetoes.
"What about sissones?" Mom inquires.
"I like it!" Ms. Abby snaps, smiling.
Even not on the dance floor, Mom is Ms. Abby's favorite mom. I look down in embarrassment as Ms. Joanne, Ms. Ann, Hannah, and Gia arrive. Ms. Abby rolls her eyes. She hates Ms. Joanne.
"Tricia texted me. Sarah and Brady are caught in a traffic jam, but they should be here in about ten minutes," Ms. Ann reports, and Ms. Abby sighs.
"Ok, well the four kids on-time, Stacey recommended we all do sissones on Abbey Road. Now, since this is a tourist stop, most people around here do understand people taking photos, but you'll need to be careful. If you get hit by a car, at least they have free healthcare in Britain," Ms. Abby jokes, and I laugh sheepishly.
Do it. Get hit by a car, Lilliana. No, no, no, NO, NO! I can't get hit by a car or else I can't lose more weight. I want the coffin to fit me when I die of starvation. Eventually, we see Brady and Sarah running towards us.
"Ok, now that we're all here, sissonne! Go!" Ms. Abby calls out.
I jump into a sissonne, landing gracefully. Pressley is higher than me in hers, and Brady gets way more height on his. I suck at this. But Ms. Abby smiles.
"Perfect! Okay, now when the light turns red, you have maybe ten seconds to nail it before people start getting annoyed, so nail it on the first try. I'm going to sort you in a line," Ms. Abby orders.
Me and Sarah, the shortest, are in the middle. Pressley is next to me, and Hannah is next to Sarah. Lastly, Brady is next to Pressley on the end, and Hannah is next to Gia on Sarah's end.
We wait for the next minute before the light turns red. Ms. Gianna runs out so the cars are behind us, putting herself into dangerous traffic. More pressure. We all quickly space out, getting quick corrections from Ms. Gianna. She gets down on the pavement and counts us off. After many honks, we quickly all run back before looking at the photo.
"Good job girls! You pulled that off!" Ms. Abby compliments.
We all high-five each other in relief, none of us wanting to be in that peril again, even me. We all collapse on each other in our silliness, but sharply stand back up when Ms. Abby starts talking again.
"Alright, moms, we have to be at the Lyceum Theatre by 7:00, but since we technically don't have seats there, we won't go in until the big rush happens so maybe we can sneak in," Ms. Abby informs.
"It's like that song from the Backyardigans! I'm an international super spy... SUPER SPY!" Gia belts out.
"That's going to be a popular song in a couple of years, I can tell," Sarah giggles.
"See you all at seven! Leave early! And get some food beforehand, we'll be pushing our luck if we get food there!" Ms. Abby yells behind her.
"Ok, so we're going to have lunch and dinner at the hotel, I guess," Pressley remarks, accentuating the, "and."
"Yup," I reply, popping the p.
Does room service have calories on the menu? I start to wiggle my toes in anxiety and stare around, biting my lip, trying to contain it. I'll just suppress my panic attack until we get home. I've done it before, right?
We all pile into another cab and go back to the hotel. It's gone back to being the stereotypical London weather: cold, cloudy, and rainy, just like me. It's around 2:00 now. So a late lunch and a small dinner, I guess. Well, just make sure to eat as little as possible, Lilly.
Okay. That sounds good. I'll be with Pressley all day, maybe some of the other kids, and I've got them in a lock to not tell anybody. The only thing that may be a problem is if I throw up. That's when they start getting iffy, because they don't want me relapsing in bulimia at the same time, if that's even possible.
The cab goes by so slow as the anxiety keeps building up and up and up with the feeling of dying overflowing already. I want my medication to work again. These were so, so, rare when my medication worked. Now, I'm suppressing all my anxiety to look normal until we get to the hotel.
The doors to the cab will not open fast enough. Pressley doesn't get out quick enough. The doors open like snails. The elevator, well, that always takes forever. Immediately, I hit the bed and immediately start crying and shaking, my breath constricting.
Pressley doesn't say anything, just turns on a random show. Guess she got tired of the Great British Baking Show. Just leave me in silence to die. Everything starts blurring together. Makeup runs down my face. I can't get it on my dress. I stumble to the bathroom to get some water.
My hands are so shaky, nearly dropping the cup as water splashes about. Eventually, I get enough so I can take a sip. The water helps me a bit to calm down my nerves, but they're still bad. I feel cold too, so not a great combo.
My mind is racing, and finally my mind goes to the ice bucket in our room. I sprint to the ice bucket, gaining Pressley's attention and I stick my hand in the ice bucket. Every jolt of anxiety painfully goes through my hand, making me groan in pain. Pressley taps my shoulder unexpectedly. I jolt back in surprise.
"Can we talk?" she asks.
I take a deep breath and nod. Oh, God, what is she going to ask me?
"Just a quick question. In the third week, and Ms. Abby commented on my body in a negative manner, and you gave me a pep talk on not doing anything dangerous to fix it, did you mean it?" Pressley asks.
"Yes!" I say instantly.
Her body is beautiful. Her body is what I strive to be one day. You will never look like Pressley's body, Lilliana. Not if you don't lose more weight.
"Then why'd you do it to yourself?" Pressley asks, teary-eyed.
After freezing due to shock, I answer, "Because I was already slipping. The very next week is when I began starving. I just didn't want you following down the same path. This path I'm on is so painful, Pressley. You don't want to follow it."
"Do you want to get help?" Pressley asks.
"Every bad path has its pros. For example, I'll be prettier, and skinnier, and more up to Ms. Abby's standards. I don't want to get help, not until Nationals are over," I explain.
She sighs disappointedly, but then exclaims, "I think Loud House is on!"
I put a big grin on my face and we hurriedly turn on the TV. Of course, TV shows don't give me any joy nowadays, but watching Pressley laugh makes me happy-ish. While I'm watching the show, I cannot imagine having 11 brothers. Caden's enough.
After the hour, Pressley and I go downstairs to go order some food. Of course, me being my normal self, I won't have any. Pressley orders a slice of pizza, and I order a water to go. The pizza looks really good, but I scroll on social media to distract myself.
And then... I scroll past an Instagram account. proanaxoxo. There is a picture of one of the thinnest, most inspirational girls ever. Right as I start going down the rabbit hole of new-filled inspiration, Pressley finishes eating her pizza so we have to leave.
"I'm so excited to see The Lion King!" Pressley gushes.
The old Lilly who walked into the Pittsburgh Studio for one of the first times would be absolutely bouncing off the walls, crazy excited to see Lion King. The new, partially improved Lilly, is grateful for the opportunity, and really wants to be excited, but there's just... something not allowing her to be excited.
"It's about 5:30, so we have half an hour before we have to go to the lobby," Pressley reports as we reenter our hotel room.
Mascara is clouding around my eyes, and my eyeliner is not doing too hot. I can't believe the pizza guy did not point it out, because I look like a raccoon. Pressley and I have a very cramped sink, so Pressley goes first, putting her hair in a braid.
I redo my eye makeup, but I don't use any heat on my hair like a curling iron. It's too weak anyway. I hear Pressley play some Lion King music in the background, specifically Hakuna Matata.
It does make me gain a little bit of joy hearing the music and Pressley singing along. Once I reapply lip gloss, I start singing along too. A rare feeling of joy overcomes me when we just start goofing around and being silly with each other, jumping around the whole hotel room.
All of a sudden, we hear a knock at the door. I shut off the music, and Pressley looks through the peephole. She opens the door. It's Mom and Ms. Ashley. They look very formal, more formal than how they have to dress during competition days.
"Are you guys ready?" Ms. Ashley asks.
I bounce to the front door excitedly, putting on a mask of pure happiness. Pressley and I race down the hotel hallway to the lobby. Brady and Sarah are already doing a TikTok in the lobby. I get onto Pressley's back and we run back and forth in front of their screen, videobombing it.
"You guys think you're so funny," Sarah jokingly remarks, and Pressley and I collapse on the hotel couch in a fit of giggles, trying to keep it down so as to not be annoying to the other hotel-goers.
We all goof around on Snapchat and Instagram. The same skinny body comes up, and I quickly scroll past it before anybody can do it. Brady and I take a silly Snapchat story with a caption: brb gonna go sneak into a cinema.
Hannah and Gia come last along with their moms. It's 6:00. Ms. Tricia orders some Ubers to take us to the theater. In the meantime, I decide to scare the receptionist with Hannah. While she's looking away, I quickly go into a chest stand, folding my legs over.
"Hi, love, what can I do for you?" the receptionist asks.
"My friend here is a little stuck," Hannah says, pointing down.
The receptionist looks down and over the counter. I wave and smile and she gasps, covering her mouth. I scare here even more by rolling out and doing a spider. Then I use some momentum to go forward into a bridge and stand up.
"Is your back okay?" she asks, so grossed out and confused.
"Yes, I'm just very flexible," I giggle, waving bye and running back to my friends.
"How bad was she scared?" Ms. Michelle asks.
"Very!" I giggle.
"And our Ubers are here!" Ms. Tricia announces.
"Great timing!" Ms. Joanne exclaims as we all get up.
"I'm so nervous!" Gia giggles as we enter an Uber.
It's Gia, me, and Sarah in one car, with Pressley, Brady, and Hannah in the other. This pairing is odd, but I guess it's just what happened. I try to be quiet during the Uber ride, so as not to annoy the Uber driver. Sarah and Gia, however, are very loud and very chatty.
As we approach the Lyceum Theater, I get a little bit more anxious. What if we get shipped back to America? What if I go to juvenile prison? What if Ms. Abby goes back to jail? What if I never dance again?
My leg shakes as I look around again, fidgeting. Mom places a hand on my leg to calm down. I lay my head on her arm briefly before we're let out of the car. Brady, Hannah, Sarah, Ms. Abby, and Ms. Gianna.
"Where's Mackenzie?" Gia asks.
"He had a family emergency and had to go back home for the rest of the tour," Ms. Gianna answers.
"Now with that out of the way, time to go sneak into the theater!" Ms. Abby whispers mischievously, and we all smile and giggle quietly.
"Now remember, act confident and like you're supposed to be here. People often won't question people that look like they know where we're going. Just follow me," Ms. Abby instructs.
We walk into the theatre, bypassing security. I act confident, keeping my head up high. Inside, however, I'm an anxious mess. Every step we take is closer to the doors. I'm not going to stop being anxious until we get to some seats.
The doors open and there is a humongous stage. But almost all of the seats are filled. Luckily, there is a wheelchair spot for Ms. Abby, and a spot next to her, so Ms. Gianna and Ms. Abby go there.
"Ok... so... grab a buddy and find a pair of empty seats. Ask singles if they can move. Say you guys are siblings or something," Mom instructs all of us.
Sarah takes Pressley. Hannah takes Gia. Brady takes me. We search anxiously through the rows for some seats. Eventually, we find a pair of seats in the twelfth row. A perfect height too. We rush to grab them.
Mom and Ms. Tricia end up right below us too in coincidence. Mom looks behind and takes a photo of us right before curtain call. All of a sudden, the lights dim and I focus on the stage. Wow, I guess we really pulled this off.
The performance is really good. The singers have amazing voices, the acting is phenomenal, and the dancers are so flexible and talented. Maybe I'll be up there one day. You will never be up on that stage at that weight, Lilliana. Pipe dreams!
The stage, even from this far, is so magical. Even during the ten-minute intermission, I can barely take my eyes away. I can tell these actors on stage are going to go far in their career. Everything is so magical, it feels like I'm dancing even though I'm seated.
However, all good things must come to an end. After giving a standing ovation, and going through the bows, the overwhelming feeling of dread attacks me again. I keep a smile on my face. We quickly traverse through the other people to find the others.
After about five minutes of panic and confusion, we all eventually find each other, and we begin to make our way out of the crowd, proud of ourselves for making it in without tickets.
"Thank you Ms. Abby!" we all exclaim while walking out of the cinema.
"You're welcome everybody! At least with us sneaking in, you guys were cheap dates!" Ms. Abby jokes, and we all crack up.
Ms. Abby continues, reminding, "Remember, we have one final performance tomorrow, so let's make it our best one yet!"
We all whoop in agreement as we all order Ubers and say goodbye to Ms. Abby. As we all wait around for our Ubers, we find a bench for the six of us to sit on. However, it's only big enough for four. I sit on Hannah's lap so that we can all rest.
I feel really tired, but I don't want to have another panic attack in the morning like today. With eyes that feel like elephants are pulling it down, our Ubers finally arrive. It's somehow the same two vans!
I fidget around and look on social media on my phone to keep me awake. proanaxoxo is at it again. So many skinny girls, including dancers and models and just regular people in general. All so skinny. All so admirable. All so motivational.
Eventually, I have to stop looking at my phone because we arrive at the hotel. We thank the Uber driver and get out. Pressley is in the other car, so I have to do more waiting, nearly falling asleep on Gia.
After about five minutes, another van pulls up and they come out, laughing and bouncing around like happy people. If only...
Pressley joins me at the hip and we all pile into the elevator. I stumble tiredly to the hotel room. I don't even care anymore, I just grab my pajamas and go into the bathroom without saying anything.
I wipe up my makeup, brush out my hair and teeth, and hop in the shower, bringing my razor. Today has been an okay day, but I need to make up for yesterday. Three cuts should be enough to give me some happiness for the night.
All the blood leaks out in the shower. As it happens, I examine my wrists. Brown, purple, bruised. Just a month and a half ago, they were tan and normal. Now, they're permanently damaged. At least I didn't eat today. I'll save it for Easter.
I'm too tired to care, however. I'm running low on bandages, so I use gauze. After brushing out my hair again, more hair falling out, I put on my pajamas. It's a white long-sleeve t-shirt with a koala sleeping on it, saying, "Sleep like koala." Along with it is a navy pair of pajama pants with sleeping koalas and clouds.
I tenderly move my hair so as to not disturb it anymore and I exit the bathroom. Pressley is waiting. We quickly exchange a goodnight and I collapse on my bed, falling asleep rather quickly.
~~~~~