Phronemophobia: A Journey Into My Mind

| « c u t t i n g c o r n e r s » | pt. 2 (ss)

—
"i k n o w w h o i a m.
i a m n o t p e r f e c t.
i ' m n o t t h e m o s t b e a u t i f u l w o m a n i n t h e w o r l d.
B u t i ' m o n e o f t h e m."
~ m a r y j. b l i g e
—
I stayed silent. She was the last person I wanted to see. I was suddenly sick and all I could smell was ink and sweat from my body. I felt like I was going to pass out.

"Angel, I know you're in there. Let me in. There's ink all over your walls and your room is a mess. Is everything alright?"

I dropped my head in my hands. I'd finally lost control.

"Go away, Alana."

"I swear I'll bust this door down if you don't open it," my friend said in a harsh tone. "Open! Now!"

I sighed. She wasn't going to quit. I sniffled hard. "Fine. But I'm going to keep my eyes closed. I can't... see you right now."

Alana sighed. "It's okay Angel. Just let me see you." Her voice was like a soft melody in my ears.
I wish mine wasn't so raspy.

I closed my eyes and stood, using the edge of the sink for assistance. I slowly walked with my hands outstretched to the door and turned the lock on the handle.
I turned around and opened my eyes, until I reached the counter again, and I sat on the cold tiled floor. I hid my face in my knees and wrapped my arms around me protectively. I felt so vulnerable with this gross ink on my hands and this beautiful girl in my presence.
I heard Alana step in slowly, short clicks as she made the few steps toward me. I felt her presence as her body shifted onto the floor beside me. Her cold hand was on my elbow, and she spoke again softly.

"Angel," she whispered. "Talk to me. What's going on?"

I didn't say anything. I just sat in silence for a second, and began to sob. Alana's small body wrapped around mine and I felt like a boulder. She wasn't making me feel better. I shifted away from her and Alana pulled back, seeming startled.

"Did I do something wrong?" Alana asked.

That made me cry harder. It wasn't her. It was me. Everything about me was wrong.

"No," I said in a choked voice. "Everything about you is right. And that's the problem."

Alana was silent for a moment. "What are you talking about, Angel?"

I looked up at Alana, tears forming a river down my cheeks. I mustered up the courage to mutter the words I've been chanting in my head for years now. Ever since I was young I hated how I looked. I always wanted to be slimmer, curvier. I never wanted to be me.

"I am hideous," I said almost silently. I wasn't crying anymore. I was just numb. I felt like I was drowning on the inside since my tears had clogged up within me. They wouldn't flow anymore. Just saying the words out loud to another person made the statement even more real. "I... am... hideous," I said once more.

And with that, Alana wrapped her arms around me tightly and pulled my torso to hers, holding on tight. I felt tears in my hair from Alana's cheeks, and I began to cry again. The dam had broken in my eyes and I was freely flowing in tears.

"I am hideous," I repeated over and over. I said it so much that Alana ended up clasping a hand over my mouth.

"Stop," she pleaded. "Please stop saying that. It's not true. It's not true." She pulled back and turned my face to look at hers and she brushed sticky strands of dark hair from my forehead and cheeks.