Post by ADALYN JULIET EVANS on May 18, 2010 2:29:20 GMT
ADALYN JULIET EVANS
the open wound she hides, she just keeps it bundled up
and never lets it show, she can't take much more of this
but she can't let it go
• • • • • • • • • • • •
HAI THURRR~ MY NAME IS LEILA and I HAIL
FROM CENTRAL!
AREN'T YOU JEALOUS ;] YOU CAN CONTACT ME
BY PM. OH,
AND I'VE BEEN ROLEPLAYING FOR FIVE YEARS NOW!
• • • • • • • • • • • •
the open wound she hides, she just keeps it bundled up
and never lets it show, she can't take much more of this
but she can't let it go
• • • • • • • • • • • •
HAI THURRR~ MY NAME IS LEILA and I HAIL
FROM CENTRAL!
AREN'T YOU JEALOUS ;] YOU CAN CONTACT ME
BY PM. OH,
AND I'VE BEEN ROLEPLAYING FOR FIVE YEARS NOW!
• • • • • • • • • • • •
[/b] adalyn juliet evans* / FULL NAME
* / NICKNAMES[/b] addie, lyn, lynnie, evans.
* / AGE[/b] seventeen and a half.
* / GENDER[/b] female.
* / JOB[/b]
* / SEXUALITY[/b] straight.
* / MEMBER GROUP[/b] nerd.
* / CONDITIONS[/b] "well, my eyes are broken.. i don't see things the way other people do, especially when it comes to myself. and i've got this voice in my head. it wasn't bad at first, not at all, but now it's all i can fucking hear. "fat bitch, ugly whore, you really think you deserve that cake/pasta/steak/granola/yogurt/salad/tiny little sliver of apple?" no, i don't. i never will. that's why they say i'm anorexic, and why they won't let me leave this hellhole until i can pick up a cookie the size of my face, filled with hundreds of calories, and stuff it in my mouth like some kind of pig. and also why i will probably spend the rest of my life here."
* / FACE CLAIM[/b] sian abbott
[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote]
• • • • • • • • • • • •
[/b] i like the way the sky is blue and orange and pink and red and a thousand other colors when the sun's about to set.* / LIKES
* / DISLIKES[/b] i hate mirrors. i hate the way my mom wouldn't talk about my 'issues'. i hate the way people pretend that everything's okay when it's not. i hate food. i hate that i hate food. i hate crying. i hate feeling pain. i hate being the center of attention. i hate talking about myself. i hate smart people who pretend to be stupid to fit in. i hate having a broken heart. i hate talking about myself. i hate that i don't have a reason to be so fucked up, but i am. i hate that i could sit here all day and talk about all the things that i hate. i hate therapists and nutritionists and doctors. i hate obesity and junk food and sweets. i
* / POSITIVE TRAITS[/b] i am skinny. i am strong. i am trying to get better. i am determined. i am smart. i am a good writer. i am a good listener. i am giving. i have a good heart. i am hopeful. i can imagine the unimaginable and believe the unbelievable. i can do whatever i want.
* / NEGATIVE TRAITS[/b] i am ugly and fat. i am confused. i am broken. i am hungry. i am a liar. i am sick. i am sad. i am scared.[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote]
• • • • • • • • • • • •
[/b] galveston, texas.* / HOMETOWN
* / PARENTS[/b] alexandra heather smith, forty two years old, the crazy one
jacob jackson smith, forty eight years old, the calm one
* / SIBLINGS[/b] cole jackson smith, nineteen, the perfect one
jessica sunny smith, fifteen, the angry one
felicity (scout) elizabeth smith, twelve, the smart(er) one
* / OTHER FAMILY[/b] ava smith, seventy three, the one who makes the best food that i can't eat.
* / HISTORY[/b]
it's the summer that it all started.. i am twelve. old enough to be getting a figure, but not quite old enough to be used to it. i am sitting at my grandmother's table in my grandmother's house, munching on a cinnamon roll while the rest of my family discusses my perfect brother and how absolutely perfect he is. for reasons that i can't remember, his weight comes up.. we all laugh at how lean and skinny he is. "my legs are probably thinner than hers!" he says, jokingly pointing at me. i chuckle because everyone else thinks it is hilarious, but as i look down at my thighs in my new short shorts, i realize that it really isn't that funny at all. they are touching. they are fat. they are ugly, just like the rest of me. i excuse myself and make my way down the hall toward the bathroom, stepping on the scale hesitantly. 117 pounds.. i could practically feel the flab on my stomach jiggling as i stepped down, a frown on my face. well, there was no sense in whining about it. if i didn't like it, i would just have to fix it.
that girl is skinnier than you, you food whore. put down the freaking muffin and go for a jog. get your fat ass moving for once. remember what your mom told you last week, when you were eating those cheez-its? 'don't eat too many, you'll get fat'. do you want to get fat? do you want everyone to hate you? not that they don't already, i mean, look at you. and that voice.. that hair, that personality? worthless, that's what you are. i don't know how you live with yourself, you disgusting bitch.
the scale is my best friend. it tells me that i am only 112 pounds now, because i don't eat lunch or breakfast. it shows me that slowly, i am getting thinner and thinner, prettier and prettier, less and less worthless. for the most part, it says exactly what i want to hear, and when it doesn't, i know that it's my fault. the mirror, on the other hand, is my enemy. arch nemesis, like in all those comic books my little sister likes to read. when i stand in front of it, the girl staring back at me doesn't look like she should. she is pale, with dull hair and even duller eyes. her skin is stretched tightly over bulging fat on her stomach and thighs, and her arms jiggle like my grandmother's fruitcake. when i look at her, my heart feels heavy in my chest. she can't be me, because i am light as a feather, getting lighter every day.
i don't want to be sick. i'm tired of the voices in my head arguing and arguing, every second of every day. "fat bitch/i'm not fat/yes you are/no i'm not, and i'm hungry/you want to be fat? go ahead/I'M NOT FAT/whatever helps you sleep at night/i'm underweight/then why can't you see yourself as skinny?/i. am. not. fat/yes. you. are/SHUT UP, BOTH OF YOU JUST SHUT UP" i'm tired of lying and making up excuses, of drooling over food and then sitting at the table and picking it apart, not able to take even a single bite, because my eyes are broken and my head is broken and why can't i just be normal? why can't i just be like everyone else on this freaking planet who can eat ice cream and cake and icing and candy? why can't i fix me?
i told the crazy bitch that she had a crazy daughter who didn't like to eat. she said that it was perfectly normal, that all girls my age worry about what they eat and their body image. do all girls eat less than 200 calories a day? do all girls hate the feeling of being full? do all girls hop on the scale every morning and let it tell them who they are, who they should be, and how much they need to lose? do all girls define themselves by a number? do all girls sometimes wish they were dead, so they wouldn't have to deal with being hungry and sad and angry and hateful and hungry and guilty all the time? i am not ALL GIRLS. i am not just one of those people who complains about being fat and still eats 4932832984329 calories a day. i am sick, and i want help. why can't she see that?
i just wanted her to see that i wasn't just another teenager with overflowing hormones and a desperate need for attention. i wanted her to tell me i should talk to someone, a professional, because i hear that kind of thing really helps when you have broken eyes and a broken heart and a broken head. i had no idea that she would send me somewhere where they would probably put me in a straight jacket and lock me up in a padded room, shoving food down my throat while i sit there helplessly getting fatter and fatter and fatter until i pop like a balloon. it was just a little blackout, i don't know why they're all overreacting like this.. at ninety pounds, i am skinny, i am hungry, i am lost, and i am afraid, but i am not crazy enough to be stuffed into an ASYLUM.
[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote]
• • • • • • • • • • • •
THIS APPLICATION WAS MADE BY MIADAY PARADE AND IS FOR HER USE ONLY.
IMAGE CREDIT TO OH MY MY?! and CANTER. of CAUTION 2.0
THIS APPLICATION WAS MADE BY MIADAY PARADE AND IS FOR HER USE ONLY.
IMAGE CREDIT TO OH MY MY?! and CANTER. of CAUTION 2.0
