30 Days of Secrets: Day 4
(Because I forgot yesterday and have to do two today because I’m anal)
When I was 15 a girl from my French class came up to me and asked if I wanted to walk with her during lunch. I was lonely and she was pretty. I was ecstatic to have a chance to make a new friend.
I don’t remember the finer details of the conversation but I do remember this: she came out to me about being anorexic. I didn’t understand the disorder as well I did now and just shrugged it off. I didn’t know and still don’t know why she told me this. Maybe she just needed to say it out loud? Maybe she thought she could trust me? Maybe she thought I could help her?
I never asked her why she told me her secret. I do remember telling her that I thought she was beautiful and would love to have her figure. I don’t know how she took either of those comments but even four years have past and I still regret not doing more. I don’t know what I could have done: maybe offered my help if she ever needed someone to talk to?
All I know is this: I was jealous.
I was jealous that she was pretty, thin, and smart. I was ugly, dumpy, and passable. I glorified the disorder; I wanted the disorder.
Now years later I see pictures of her across my Facebook and see the small, frail girl looks nothing like she used to when she was 16. She is happy, smiling, and muscular. I know that has kicked Ana in the face and is happier with her life. I do not know if she still struggles. We never spoke of this day after the lunch ball had rung.
I just know that this is my secret and one of my regrets. I should have tried to help her.
30 Days of Secrets: Day 3
I’m obsessed with marriage. I want the man to promise to love me forever even if he doesn’t mean it. I want the ring to prove that someone wants to spend their days with me. I want the whole room to stare at me with happiness and not disdain for once in my life.
I never realized how much I wanted it until I learned I didn’t want to be alone.
I don’t want the kids that marriage usually brings because I don’t want them to be as fucked up as me and my family. But I can’t imagine my life without being a mother.
I just want someone to lie in front of a crowd of people and God: I do.
30 Days of Secrets: Day 2
My favorite color is brown.
Aren’t they supposed to reflect who you are? Well, brown did.
When I was in high school (9th) I wore a lot of brown because I didn’t want to be noticed. I didn’t want people to see me and judge me. I didn’t want them to see how fat I was compared to the “pretty” girls. My parents thought I just liked brown. Now my entire room at home is devoted to the colors green and brown. Like a tree. No one notices a tree in the forest, right?
As the years went on and I became happy with who I am I started to hate the color of my room. The only reason it is still that color scheme is I don’t know how to tell my parents that every time I’m in there I remember how much I wanted to be invisible.
30 Days of Secrets: Day 1
My biggest irrationality:
Ever since my mother died I have this irrational fear of death. Not my death. Everyone else’s death. She killed herself a little over a year ago. Life is so easy to end. A knife, a bullet, a fistful of pills. It’s easy.
I fear that everyone else I love will die. That they’ll leave me. I don’t like it but, no matter what I do I can’t get the idea away from me. I worry a lot.
It’s not even the fear that they will do the wicked deed themselves. It can be anything: a car accident, a shooting, a misstep on the side-walk. Anything.
It haunts me most nights.
I don’t know what to do. I try to reassure myself that everyone is okay. I used to just think if someone didn’t answer their phone it was because they were busy. Now it ranges from the illusory fact that they hate me to the ill fated belief that they are gone forever. Maybe I’m just afraid of being alone. Maybe I’m just crazy. Maybe I need to get over myself.