I used to be normal.
I was your average twelve year old girl. I was going
through puberty, realizing boys didn't really have
cooties, and listening to cheesy pop music. I had my
entire future planned out in my Hello Kitty notebook,
details down to the tee of what kind of dog I wanted, and
a list of names for my future children. Fast forward six
years later, I'm not the person I chalked myself up
to be in that notebook. Every idea, aspiration, plan I
had written down was now only a distant
memory.
These days, you'll find me leaned
over the ceramic toilet of my one bedroom apartment
throwing up the undigested Taco Bell I had just scarfed
down not even two hours prior. No dog, or kids in my near
future. I don't know when it happened, or how it
happened. I used to be the happy go lucky girl that
everyone loved to be around. I was always smiling,
dancing, and singing everywhere I went, and now all I do
is waste away in the darkest crevices of my apartment, in
baggy, ugly clothes, hating
myself.
Like I said, I used to
be normal.
Instead of answering phone calls and
texts, I spend hours sitting on the tile floor of my
kitchen counting calories of all the food in my pantry I
forced myself to purchase at the grocery store. Instead
of reading scripts, I stuff Ritz crackers in my mouth,
only to chew and spit them out in the trashcan before I
have a chance to swallow them. Instead of dating, and
falling in love like all of my friends, I cuddle with my
cat, Clifford, on the couch and watch reruns of
The
OC, wishing I was as beautiful as Marissa
and as thin as
Summer.
I guess the tabloids are right.
I'm a pathetic, washed up actress who needs to make
a serious comeback.
