I woke up from my deep slumber consisting of familiar nightmares that don't seem to leave me alone. The nightmares of the same night over and over that scarred me for life and had never left my side.
My body felt heavy, and I didn't want to get up. The feeling isn't anything new, I feel it every time I leave the somewhat comforting state of calmness. Sleep seems to be one of the only times I can truly relax. It's also common for me to wish I never did wake up, so I could be in peace finally.
I pulled the weighted blanket off of me and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. I stood up and took a second for the blackness to leave my vision and the dizziness to wear off. I went into the bathroom and took a shower, the painful sting on my arms stronger than usual because of the recent wounds I carved into my skin. I paid them no mind and tried to continue on with what I was doing. When a bit of shampoo dropped from my head onto my arm, however, I nearly shed tears from the burning sensation sent through me.
I cleaned the dried blood from my arm and got out. I got dressed in jeans, a sweater, and an oversized sweatshirt to hide most of my body and its figure. I swiped a hand across the fogged up mirror, but it didn't work well. I brushed my hair using the small bit of reflection that was visible. Following the hair was my skincare consisting of just washing, exfoliating, and moisturising.
I finally left my bedroom, grabbing my phone on the way. I was almost late, but I didn't care much. My mother was in the kitchen cooking, and I knew then I couldn't get out of eating. It didn't matter to me much, though, because I could use the same solution I've been using for the past three years that has helped me cope with so much.
"Good morning, Seungkyo, how are you?" She asked, her to be a bit too cheery for her normal relaxed attitude. It could be because we went six months with no contact, but it made me feel a little uncomfortable.
"I'm fine," I replied. I went over to the refrigerator and grabbed my pill bottle from the top of it. I took out one and returned it to its place before taking a glass of water, using it to swallow the capsule.
Afterwards, I sat down at the table as Mom set a bowl of spicy chicken and rice in front of me. Just as she turned away, I heard the loud footsteps of my sister running down the stairs excitedly.
"Morning, Mom! Morning, Green Bean!" She exclaimed. Her bright attitude always made me happy, mostly because she's my baby sister and if she was ever unhappy, it'd make me upset. I love seeing her smile no matter what it's about.
"Good morning, Yoora," Mom said.
"Morning, Shortie," I teased. She grabbed chopsticks and stole a piece of chicken before chewing in my face. I shoved her away and she sat down across from me. I quickly finished my meal and stood up, already feeling the rush of anxiety that I always get, but usually not this quickly.
"I'm going to be late, I need to go. Thanks for breakfast."
Mom nodded as her mouth was full, so I ended it at that and left. I grabbed the keys from beside the door and then got into my car. I sped away from the house and towards the rehabilitation center. I went into the gas station halfway between there and my house, going straight to the bathroom. I got on my knees in front of the toilet before reaching two fingers down my throat. It triggered the reflex, and I made myself throw up all the food I ate previously.
I did it a couple more times just to make sure it was all gone, before standing up and wiping the tears from my eyes. I flushed the toilet and washed my hands before leaving. I bought a bottle of water using pocket money I found. I then proceeded to swish my mouth out in the parking lot and ate a mint afterwards to get rid of the evidence.
The reassurance I had after purging made me feel like I was actually making a difference with myself and made me feel a little better, but it wasn't enough.
I needed more.