Atelphobia;
        The fear of not being good enough.

I did it again.

I ing did it again.

The white basin spun in front of my eyes. I’d left that tap running, not half ready to clean up the mess I made again. A sigh left my lips and I let my heavy eyes fall shut. I was so tired.

Tears built up in my eyes and that damn headache that was following me constantly appeared again, banging at my temples relentlessly. It was a considerable effort to force my eyes open again, look down at my flat stomach. Fat. God, I was so fat. The tears fell down my face, falling onto my shaking hands that gripped the basin for dear life.

When had I let myself become like this?

Anorexic idiot.

Had I fallen into that category yet? Had I, really?

I pressed a cold hand into my forehead. What the hell happened to me. Four months ago I’d been the strong girl, the one who didn’t pity girls who vomited their guts out, desperate to be accepted. I’d been the girl who, if anything, was angry at them. How stupid, I’d use to say, that, for the sake of peoples opinions of you, you’d go and let yourself get sick.

Karma had certainly come and bit me in the .

What started it? God, I wish I knew. It wasn’t like I went to school anymore. There were no girls to bully me in the same way they would have in high school. I went to University for goodness sake, you were invisible there, with thousands of other people walking around.

‘Yoona?’

The light trill of my name was accompanied with the tapping of my mothers soft knuckles on the bathroom door, ‘Are you ok, baby?’

Stumbling over my words I desperately wet my hands in the water, aggressively rubbing the sides of the basin to remove any remaining vomit, ‘F-fine mum. I’m was just at the toilet.’

A pause, ‘Ok, baby.’ I closed my eyes, praying that would be the end of it but her voice peeped up again. ‘You know… You can talk to me about anything, yeah?’

Forcing my eyes open I stared at my reflection in the mirror. Hating the deep circles that ran under my eyes, the sickly pastel skin and trembling lips. ‘I know Mum,’ I called, my voice a little too weak to be convincing.

My mums no idiot. She knew and she had no idea what to do. As soon as I heard her soft footfall fade away I let my eyes trail form my face to my neck, hating the small layer of skin that surrounded my neck. My shoulders were too wide, my arms verging on the edge of chicken wings.

I hate myself.

No guy wants a girl who has a tummy, Yoona.

How do you expect to keep a guy if you’re always eating crap?

Why don’t you go for a run?

Your father lost 7 kilos since he started his diet!

Do you think you can bring home a boyfriend and cuss in front of him? He’ll run a mile, Yoona.

It’s lucky she didn’t catch the bouquet, the other girls would have had to wait years and years to get married.

No one likes a girl that slaps them. Even if it’s a joke.

Push your shoulders back, you’re creating a pot tummy.

That was it. The little things. The small, stupid thing my mother had said for the past two years that I’d always laughed at, made a joke of. Things she probably thinks she’s saying to help me. A wry laugh fell out of my lips, ricocheting around the room. Look where it got me mum.

I was a wreck. All I did was think about what that person thought of me, or that person. Or the person on the bus next to me, or across from me on the train. I was so caught up feeling fat I couldn’t buy clothes anymore, because I’m convince they’ll look like crap on me.

I can’t bring myself to not wear sleeves, because then everyone will see my arms. I leave my hair out to hide the fat around my face. I wear high heels, hoping it’ll making me legs look better.

Staring at myself in the mirror now, I wonder why I’ve bothered. I’ve been subconsciously doing stupid things to try and make myself feel better and have only been making myself feel worse.

I let my eyes run over the button nose, large oval eyes and soft lips. Down the flawless skin, despite the obvious drain my current health was having on me. My eyes rested on my hair. It wasn’t as shiny as it use to be. I felt weaker. Like running was something I’d never be able to do again.

‘, I need help.’ My voice croaked out. I slapped the water into the mirror, obscuring my image, as if making it impossible to see myself for a moment would give me that chance to escape. ‘Mum!’

My voice came out soft, way to soft for her to have heard if she’d moved to any other room then my bedroom. But she was rushing into the bathroom the next moment. She’d probably been waiting for me. Or she’d been so worried she’d sat on my bed like she always did, before scurrying out when I came out of the bathroom.

‘What is it?’ Her eyes were wide. Nervous but smothered in love as she looked at me. My tear stained cheeks, the treading towards sickly thin body.

I managed a shaky smile, though I’m sure it didn’t reach my eyes in the slightest, ‘Help me.’

Her face, the bright joy that jumped into her eyes and the gorgeous smile that lit it up was enough for me to never regret my decision. I was pulled into the warmest hug I’ve ever felt. I was alive again.

‘Don't do that to me again baby,’ my mum whispered, running shaky hands down my back and over my head, ‘I love you so much.’

‘I love you too, mum…’

Chapter Character;
              SNSD's Yoona
(honestly I hadn't written it with any idol in mind, I just needed on at the end and she got picked O.o. So it in no way dictates how I imagine her to be O.o)