The Daily War

• Stephanye Drew, Grade 11, Woodcrest State College -
• Short Story
• 2018

Excellence Award in the 'Horizon of Dreams 2018' competition

My alarm screams in my ear but my body yearns for more sleep. My stomach grumbles and vibrates through my bones and becomes encased by my skin. I lay still for a second. I feel my heart beating against my chest. It’s almost as if I can feel the rush of my blood as it flows around my body. I know to stay upright today, I should eat something. I just can’t. Another day of fighting these thoughts.
These thoughts are my struggle, my burden. Other people see me as someone to be pitied but I know a secret that they don’t. I am stronger than they are. I have the willpower to control what I eat and how I look. I have an angel whispering in my ear to tell me they are wrong, I do not look like a creature from a horror movie.
I see their reality but I also see the factual one, the one that is hidden. It is just out of their reach, just past the spider webs that have been sewn over their eyes so they see the world as beautiful. This world is so devastating, every day we are all forced to go fight a war. How could anyone describe that as anything but tragic? Only the strongest survive wars and I can survive anything. I see past the webs that they have been blinded by. I see that I’m not skinny enough yet.
I sit up slowly but stand up too fast. The demons cover my eyes with their black dots and try to pull me down with them. I lean against my bedroom door and breathe. Not today, I will win this war. I open the door and float to the bathroom. The sun dimly lights the hallway, sunrises are so beautiful. Why do I get to see them then?
I stand in the bathroom and stare into the mirror. I am as big as the mirror which is one wall. This is why I shouldn’t eat today. It’s only one more day. It’ll take thirty days for the demons to win. It’s only been four and that’s nothing in comparison to thirty. The scale by the door doesn’t call my name as it used to, I just don’t care for the number anymore. The scale is just another bug stuck in the web that has covered everyone’s eyes. The scale can label me skinny all it wants. No number low enough will be enough for me.
I look into my eyes. My dead grey eyes. The life has been sucked out of them because of this war. I remember when my eyes were a vibrant green, I’ll see them again one day. These eyes will be coloured again one day, this smile unbroken one day. Maybe one day I will win this war. Maybe tomorrow but I will win it.