Katie,

What's going on?

You’re Mom stares at you,

Sitting beside your father on the couch.

You sink into the chair,

Upset.

They knew.

Please,

Tell us why you’re doing this,

She pleads,

But you still don’t answer.

You’ve told them why,

A million times before.

We thought you were getting better,

Tears fall down her cheeks,

And she covers her face with her hand.

You’re trying to kill yourself,

Aren’t you?

Your dad stares at you,

Completely serious,

And you laugh darkly.

Kill myself?

This was a new guess from them.

Why couldn’t they just accept that I wasn’t happy,

With what I looked like?

I wasn’t okay,

With not being popular.

I wasn’t alright,

With being fat.

Why,

Couldn’t,

They,

Listen?

It’s not funny,

Sobs your Mom.

You tell her you’re not suicidal,

That you just want to look the way you want.

I’m going to get you help, Katie.

Don’t you worry,

You’re going to get better.

Get better?

Was,

I,

Sick?

Was that what this was?

Was wanting to be pretty,

Popular,

And thin a disease?

You’re told the conversation is over,

So you head upstairs.

You pause in the bathroom,

And step on the scale.

There’s a brief moment,

When you’re scared,

Terrified,

Frightened.

And then it’s over.

Ninety,

Eight,

Pounds.

For a moment,

You’re stuck in disbelief.

Then,

You contemplate how you feel about it.

Was,

It,

Good,

Enough?

You smile,

And decide that it is.

But now there is a new struggle,

You have to face.

Maintaining the perfect weight.

You skip to your room,

Finally happy.

When you realize,

That Jocelyn can no longer be your idol.

She’s fallen from her pretty,

Popular,

Tower.

She was now an outcast,

Just,

Like,

You.

Next in line is Sarah.

But can you look up to her,

When she’s looking up to Aiden?

You stare at yourself in the mirror,

Turn,

Spin,

Watch.

But your happiness from before,

Turns into despair.

You still looked fat.

The scale had lied.