Getting Older, Thinner, CrazierA Chapter by violetta york / nicki elle
As time went on, I went from a near one-sixty pounds to about ninety pounds. I stopped eating, and kept puking. I would vomit when I didn't even eat. I would do it in the shower, by removing the hair-catcher (which mom got really pissed about) or in the bathroom. I even did it in plastic Jewel-Osco bags, considering I moved into the basement after Cara and Maddie moved out. I didn't feel good about myself on the inside, I felt good about my appearance though. My teeth were falling apart though, and my parents weren't too happy about having to buy me all-new clothes. Not only did I like myself better, my dad never called me fat. Instead he would attack B now, as she approached 11 and I was 13, she was chubby. Every time we were out in public he would call her fat, or tell her she was going to look like a "bigger" woman. I felt as if it was some type of abuse in itself. I sensed one day she would contradict what I had been doing; puking and starving. I was right.
At school, girls started to envy me and boys started to love me. I was a solid 5'3'', and very thin. I still wore a wig even though my hair was growing back, it was a dirty-blonde short wig. I had the greenest eyes you've ever seen, and I always piled my face with eyeliner, blush, eye shadow and bronzer; considering I didn't have eyelashes or eyebrows for mascara or anything else. I always thought I was ugly though. I never thought a single good thing about myself, and thats why I would voluntarily give myself to boys. The first boy I'd ever had sex with was named Max Trench; a tall 6'3, slender, acne, and glasses. He was decent, and when we did "it", I could have swore he was more nervous then me. I realized nothing else made me feel more pretty than sex. After a week, I grew tired of Max and dumped him; a day later to have a new boyfriend. Boyfriends were regular for me, I was never single. Most of them used me, but I didn't mind. Like I said; sex made me feel pretty, unstoppable, it was like a drug. Not that I wasn't on drugs most of the time anyways; I spent a lot of time making homemade bongs with water bottles and walking to the deepest ghettos to get drugs from a tall, black man named Denziel. I started off light, only smoking pot once or twice with a few friends; if I had any friends left. Most of my friends hated me, especially my best friend since I was 6, Alyssa. I always thought "I don't need her," but I did. I couldn't admit my loss. Drugs, sex, puking, etc all became more and more of a thing. At a party with another boyfriend, I snorted my first line of coke. I was drunk at the time, luckily I survived. Life got worse and worse from this point. I never was in a steady relationship; and my family life got worse. Cara, Maddie and Sophia all moved out, leaving me and B to get the beatings. Dad never laid a hand on Mason; probably because Mason sat inside without a friend in site playing video games, and because he never did anything wrong. B didn't do anything wrong either, but I on the other hand, always did something wrong. I always wondered what I did to deserve this life. Life sucks, but is it that way for everyone?
© 2012 violetta york / nicki elleReviews
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1 Review Added on November 11, 2012 Last Updated on November 11, 2012 Authorvioletta york / nicki ellechicago, ILAboutsun ♓ / moon ♐ / rising ♌ young girl in love trying to find my way. instagram: nickiielle tumblr: petaleyes.tumblr.com more..Writing
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