I’m done with this so I’m gonna say everything now. I’ve cut before, stuck 2 fingers down my throat, but the scale in the bathroom is what everyone always compared me to. No matter how much I ate, or drank. It didn’t matter because that number is all I am worth. Why can’t I be seen as more? “Wow! My hands fit on your wrist!!” Well I’m sorry I have a fast metabolism. “Don’t complain! It’s the beauty standard to be skinny” not when you cry every night wishing for a different shape. When the thought is as sharp as a knife every night haunting you of that one decision that can change everything. I HATE life, no matter how many friends I make or how many family I have, it will always be the same. My parents argued every night when I was younger and the cops came, all I had was a device to cope. They moved away and argued on the phone, blocked each other. And I am forced to go from one house to another. Pushing from one side to another every Sunday, or Friday. Why am I just the scale number?