Secrets
To my Best Friend,
I know you think that you've fooled everyone into believing that you were all better. That after eleven years you woke up one morning, and decided to finally recover, because like you always joked, "only dogs like bones." Even though I don't have the heart to call you out, I know the truth. I see how your eyes go dead when people tell you how much healthier you look. The way you see things, being called "healthy" is an insult akin to laziness, ugliness, and gluttony. But of course, you still smile and thank them, feigning pride in your false accomplishments. I don't mean to sound harsh, actually, I understand that you probably intended to try and get better, but for as long as we've been friends, you've had this eating disorder, and I can't imagine how difficult it must be for you to fight it, when it is all you've ever known.
I think addicts have it easier, in order to break their habits, they simply have to stay away from temptation. For people with anorexia, they must face their demons head-on several times a day.
When we sit in the dining hall and you hastily excuse yourself to go to the bathroom immediately after eating next to nothing, I want you to realize that I know what you are doing. I don't ever say anything, because I am afraid if I upset you, things will only worsen. When all of our friends eating pizza at 3 am on a Friday night, you would rather drunkenly stumble the mile back to your house than even be in the same room as us. I notice how you constantly pinch your arms and legs as if you are checking to see if they have miraculously doubled in size over the course of an hour. Others may be oblivious, but I know you too well to overlook the signals.
It breaks my heart that you are still convinced that this illness will save you, will make everything ok. The entire universe could sing your praises and tell you that you are perfect the way you are, but you will still dismiss it, because of your inability to see your beauty. It saddens me even more now, because of the fact that nobody suspects you are still suffering. I see how it has physically and mentally deteriorated you, and can't help to think that if you continue to cling to the illness, that it will eventually kill you. It terrifies me to think of the possibility that death may be what you ultimately want. I don't understand why you have such a complacency towards all of this, but I want to. I want to try and learn how to help you. I hate feeling as though I am stepping on egg shells every time we have a conversation. It sounds twisted, but I almost miss when everyone knew what you were going through. When the fact that you were anorexic was utterly undeniable. At least then you were honest and open with me, and even though you often protested, you at least allowed others and myself to support you. It must feel so isolating to be living a deception. I think you believe that if you opened up to somebody, they would judge and berate you for not being better. What I can't understand is after all we have been through, how you'd think I would ever be upset with you for being honest with me. The fact that you are still sick worries me, but what truly disappoints me is the fact that you feel as though you have to hide that from me.
I want to help you fight this, but I can't confront you in fear of you shutting me out. I love you, as do so many others, and I wish you could see yourself in the same light that we all see you. You can only live inside this secret for so long, until there will inevitably be either a physical or emotional breaking point. You can only fake this for so long until it is time to get your life back.
Dear Lizzy,
ReplyDeleteI really like your approach here. You've taken what's called in literary terms the epistolary approach (letter writing). If you've ever read Dangerous Liaisons or Bram Stoker's Dracula, it's an old fashioned but effective way to tell a story. The direct address to the friend allows a heart-felt approach that wouldn't work in first person, and it helps us understand that the writer is desperate to reach out to the BF. You've also effectively incorporated a secret that is familiar to many young women. I wonder too how you might get this more in scene. What that basically means is that you need to find a way to paint the picture for the reader so that we are with you in a particular moment in time. It basically means dealing with specifics rather than generalities. For example, this would mean that instead of talking about how meals in general are difficult with the BF, you would write about a specific meal that illustrates the same thing. "I watched you push your broccoli into your napkin. You thought I didn't see you when you pretended to drop your fork and spit the meatloaf on the floor. You kept laughing while even from across the table, I could feel your fingers tapping, counting out calories." Getting us in scene will help us to be more engaged with the story. The other really interesting thing here is why the narrator cannot bring herself to tell the secret. The reader wants to understand the narrator's hesitation. What is the narrator's secret? Why is she unable to bring herself to tell on her friend? Is there a dark little part of her that understands this impulse or that is jealous of the "self-control" of her friend? How might you complicate this story so that we understand perhaps more about the narrator than she does about herself? A good first effort and I am glad that you have joined the party...
I really liked reading this especially with the unique style as a letter to a close friend. You can see how much the character cares for the friend and wants to help out. The details like the arm pinching and the going to the bathroom at the dining hall make this very realistic.
ReplyDeleteThis is amazing.. I loved how you wrote, speaking to a friend which can be interpreted in many ways. The way you describe the arm pinching and how the friend avoids food in social settings was spot on. I can imagine someone struggling with the same thing could relate to this a lot.
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