keep going, sad little girl. keep going

I stand in the stillness of the dark, listening to the quiet creaks of the house.

Run. My heart whispers. Run.

Run where? I whisper back. What do you mean? 

But I'm only pretending to not understand. I know who I want to run from and that person is myself.

Run. 

...

I am a disaster wrapped in over-sized cardigans covering thrift store dresses still mourning their previous lovers. "Is that your natural hair color?" A smiling older man asks me in the grocery store. I shake my head, smiling timidly, before making my escape through the rows of tomatoes. 

The last time I saw my natural hair color I was thirteen years old. Thirteen years old. A sad, lonely little girl trying to be someone, anyone else. Now I'm twenty-six, and I'm still a sad, lonely girl. I can picture my thirteen year old self looking at me, her brow furrowed in confusion. 

"I thought I'd have my life figured out by now." She'd say.

...

I make a margarita for dinner. The only thing I've eaten all day was a couple handfuls of almonds. The tequila hits me a little harder than normal. I sit alone in my house, tipsy and smiling, but no one is here to see it. I want to tell someone. I want to say, "I'm happy!" and mean it. I lick the salty rim and think about calling my mother. I turn the music up louder instead.

...

Twenty hours is a magic number. When I hit twenty hours on an empty stomach, I know. I know because I can't feel my fingers. The cold starts there, in my fingertips. It creeps through me until I can't feel anything at all.

...

I went dancing last weekend. It was a spontaneous, drunken decision. Rumplemintz shots are my kryptonite.

"I'm not dressed right for dancing." I protested, looking down at my maxi dress. I wore it because it showed off my collar bones.

"You can borrow one of my dresses!" My friend, my tiny tiny friend, exclaimed, dragging me up the stairs.

Yeah right. I thought. Sure, I was drunk, but I wasn't THAT drunk.

She coaxed me into a little black dress. The kind that hugs every inch of your body. The kind that I have avoided my entire life.

It fit perfectly.

"Holy shit!" He exclaimed when I came down the stairs.

"Fuck! You look so good!" My friend kept repeating.

I felt good. I also felt drunk. And thankful that I had shaved my legs. We danced. I don't remember much of it, but I felt really really good. I felt sexy. I felt skinny.

Keep going, sad little girl. Keep going.