11

And that, 

my friends, 

is yet another person 

who knows about my 

eating disorder. 

That makes 11. 

They all have the 

power to tell 

someone; my parents, 

my teachers, 

authority of any kind. 

They could at 

any second 

decide I'm beyond 

my own help 

and call my house

or email my

instructors

or force me to do

so - and I have

to pretend like I'm not

jumpy at the thought

of that.

My mom thinks I

have a friend with

an eating disorder.

She doesn't think

it's me.

I hope.

This could get so

out of control so quickly,

and I'd lose all

that I've worked

so hard to gain - 

the space between my

thighs back, a stomach

with less rolls - in

being forced to take

depression pills

and go to counseling

and "just talk to us!"

I'm so scared.

Someone will slip.

Someone will find out.

It might kill me.