Her hands start moving, almost instinctively, towards her stomach. Examining the size, touching the ribs. The emptier the better, but never good enough.
She slowly rises, now opening her eyes. The light hits her hard, the room is spinning. She doesn't know what she is doing. Her mind is blank: no thoughts what so ever, as she lays on the flour and begins doing her morning exercise routine.
Still dizzy, she goes to the bathroom: the morning court. And she faces her judge: the scale. Slowly and fearfully she approaches it, postponing doom, yet anxiously anticipating the ruling. The judgment is served, and the jury finds her guilty of the worst crime: not being good enough. And the sentence? -another day. Another day of this nightmare which is all the reality she knows.
She looks at the body in the mirror: examining it, giving it the grade she thinks it deserves. Her eyes go up and down passing harsh judgment.
You are ugly. You are fat. You are a failure. You are worthless.
These words hurt her like knives, she believes them. She has to believes them, because they are all she knows.
As she improves in loathing the girl in the mirror, her eyes meet the eyes of that girl. She tried to remember the last time she looked into those eyes. They look different... no expression, no life... She wonders where she went- the real her.
Snap out of it. You are fine.
"I am fine", she repeats. And goes out of the bathroom. She drinks her coffee, and her eyes open fully. She feels how her brain starts working now. She started feeling nerves: her legs shaking, her hands moving around...
what will I eat? no. not that... how about that? try not to eat at all... but I feel like eating. I don't deserve to eat. just eat. no don't. I'm not hungry. I'm not hungry. I'm not hungry
"I'm not hungry. I'm ok." She recites, while she dresses up, picks her stuff, and leaves the house.
One minute before she leaves her reality, to enter the real world, she pauses, takes a deep breath, and walks out with wide eyes, smiling at everyone she knows, being the sympathetic, strong person, that everyone envies.
It was a morning like every other morning, but there was something different in the air. He knew that day would change his life forever.
He took his briefcase, and got in his car. When he started, he had no idea where he was going, but he knew it wasn't his office. Work just didn't seam as important as where he was going. He called his office from his cellular phone, and took a sick day. He, who never before allowed himself to take a day off from work. He, who saw calling in sick as a sign of weakness. Something about himchanged, though he could not pinpoint exactly what it was... "I'll go to work tomorrow", he thought. "Today, I'll drive there." But what 'there' meant, he had no clue.
He kept on driving straight forwards. Never right or left- just beyond what his eyes could see. He took control of the day, he took control of the ride.
***
"I won't be in today", He spoke into his cellular phone the next day.
-"still sick?", the secretary asked...
He hung up and told himself: "I'll go to work tomorrow. I just have to get there first."
Nothing else seamed to matter now. Finally, he had a goal in his life: to get there. Although he still did not know what 'there' meant.
The more he thought about it, the more the adrenaline rushed through his vains. He could not wait to reach his goal, and the thought of this accomplishment filled him with anticipation for that holy moment.
***
"Where are you?" -It was his manager on the phone, furious. "You're gone for two weeks, and you don't even call? what is wrong with you?"
His friends, his coworkers, his family- they all kept calling him, asking where he is, and why. He didn't understand why they were all so worried. He threw the phone out of the window without a second thought.
"They don't understand", he said, and they really didn't. There was nothing now. Nothing in the world, but the thought of getting there. Nothing existed, nothing was real. Not work, not his friends, not the road he was driving on, not even him- only that place where he was headed.
***
He kept on thinking 'there' was right in front of him.
-"The next traffic light. It has to be there."
-but it never was. He would think of a place far ahead, sure that's where he wanted to be, but when he got to that place, it was never what he expected 'there' to be like.
People on the side of the road started looking at him.
-"Where are you going?", they yelled. "Don't you know where that road leads?"
-But he did know. Now he finally knew: It was the road that lead to the end of the world. He did not want to go there, but each time he tried to turn back, a voice inside him told him that he couldn't. That he got this far, and he can't show his weakness by turning back. That voice told him all he is good for is this road. Everyone back home, and everyone on the side of the road, knew him as "The guy that's going 'there'". Even he knew himself as nothing more. He could not lose that- the thing that defines him, the thing tht controls him. The one thing he had left.
***
The end of the world wasn't what he had thought it would be. Nothing special- just a black hole that sucks you in, and you stop existing. In a way, it was just like his life, the last few months, anyway. The only difference was that there was no car, no road, no pain and no goal anymore.
He didn't even feel it when he got there. Didn't know that that was it. He thought he'll keep on driving, but the road came to an end. He couldn't stop the car: he forgot where the brakes were, and besides, he didn't get where he wanted to. Not just yet. So he kept on driving, and suddenly it was all gone. No more road, no more goal, no more pain, no more thoughts.
