Broken

I woke up with a jolt, startled awake by mum’s loud knock at my door.

“Get the fuck up you lazy ass!”

Followed by another series of irritating rapped on the door.

I fling my arms over my tear-sodden face and shouted back.

“I’m up!” followed by a whispered “bitch” under my breath, and I choked on my own words.

She gave a loud grunt and I heard inaudible comments from behind the door.

I sat up, so quickly that my eyes spin for a few seconds. But I ignored them, I just sat there at the edge of my bed, with my hands on my thighs, with nothing but my extra large t-shirt and panty on, I just sat. And for a few good long moments, my head was actually empty, I’m not thinking or picturing or hoping or fantasizing anything, my mind was blank, pitch black. I zoned out.

Suddenly, I was startled by a sudden contact, it wasn’t human touch, I looked down at the back of my hands, placed on my lap, two perfectly round droplets lay on top off them – I’ve been crying. And with the realization of it, two streaks of fresh tears cascade down my cheeks, to my chin, to the back of my hand, breaking the perfect circle droplets of tears on my hand.

I wipe my face angrily with the heel of hand, choking back my sobs. I stood and dragged my body to the dressing table, I stared back at the red-rimmed puffy eyes that are looking at me. I didn’t bother combing my bed-ridden hair, I pulled and tied everything into a bun. I checked back at my reflection, I touched my cheeks, sticky and wet from tears. And my eyes, once beautiful round double-eyelid eyes now look like something that comes out from a failed eye surgery.

I grunted and muffled my sobs simultaneously as I pulled the oversize t-shirt over my head. And again I stood before my mirror. The girl in the mirror looked so frail, so weak, and so sick I don’t even recognize her.  I sighed and sighed and sighed from the sight of the broken girl in front of me. And again I felt that familiar feel of tears welling up. I stood and glared at the mirror, I opt for deep breathing to calm myself. For a few sets of breathing, the welling stopped. I turned to my cupboard, pulled on a sports bra a cup too small for my growing breast, and pull on a large black sweater, I rummaged around for my jeans, but decided against it, instead I just slid on the knee length pants I bought few weeks ago. I checked myself at the mirror once more for a few good seconds before I muttered “ugly bitch” at the girl in the mirror, but the girl just stared back with those bloated unanimated empty eyes. I breathed a deep sigh and head out of my room.