Hopeless || m.yg

Five

"The hours between twelve a.m. and six a.m. have a funny habit of making you feel like you're either on top of the world, or under it."
--Beau Taplin, The Hours Between

>>>+<<<

Silence lets you hear your thoughts, but instead of the thoughts being little whispers in your mind, they're screaming voices pounding at your skull.

I'm used to the thoughts, but when they're screaming at me from the inside so loud I feel like the whole building can hear them, well, it's not so easy to ignore.

The thoughts don't stop no matter how much I want them to. They never do... until I give in.

So what else am I going to do except give in?

There are tears filling my eyes as I make my way toward my bathroom. I've thought about this many times before, but I never gave in; I never tried it. I know it's bad to even consider it, but I have on more than one occasion. I don't let any tears fall. Even when I grasp the bathroom doorknob, I don't let a single tear drop. 

The only time they fall is when I'm on the floor, grabbing the toilet for comfort. 

Just because now I'm forcing myself to eat doesn't mean I'm going to keep it down.

I push my fingers to the back of my throat until I gag, throwing up the little food I have left in my stomach into the toilet. It hurts--burns--my throat, but I have to do it until there's nothing left.

So I do it again.

And again.

And again.

Until the only thing coming up is bile.

And then I brush my teeth, wash my face, and leave the bathroom. The second I open the door, I see Alex standing in front of me, her eyes squinting and her voice raspy from exhaustion.

"Are you throwing up?" she asks, concern laced in her tone. 

"Must be a bug." I shrug, walking by her and going to lay down in my bed. I hate keeping things from my friends, but I have to. She would be so upset.

Alex walks in a minute or so after me, coming over and crouching in front of me. She brushes my bangs to the side and looks me in the eye.

"I know you're not sick," she whispers. "That's not the way to get better and you know it. That'll only make it worse."

I nod, tears falling once again. How many times have I cried today? Five now?

Alex stands up and goes to the other side of my bed, crawling in and pulling me to her. I lay with my head on her shoulder and cry until I fall asleep once again.

>>>+<<<

The next morning I wake up to the smell of waffles. Alex loves waffles and even though I prefer pancakes, I still like waffles all the same. I sit up and make my way out to the kitchen, yawning. She sees me walk in just as she pops a waffle onto a plate. She hands me the fresh waffle and I thank her, grabbing a fork and a knife and walking over to my table. I don't like anything on my waffles, but I love butter and syrup on my pancakes. 

Alex makes her own waffle and fixes it up how she likes it before joining me at the table. We both eat our waffles in silence, not talking about what happened last night. I can tell she wants to, but she doesn't want to upset me by bringing it up. And I just really don't want to talk about it. 

"Yah, Daisy?"

I probably didn't touch on this before, but Alex and I call each other Minnie and Daisy, like from Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. We both used to watch it as children and Minnie and Daisy were our favorite characters because they were girls and wore cute clothes and bows. I liked both of them, but I liked Daisy more because she wore my favorite color; purple. Alex liked Minnie more because she wore her favorite color; pink. And thus the nicknames.