Images

Through a winter frosted window,
I sit at the table
to watch my family play out in the snow,
carefully examining the joy in their faces
each time a new snowball was thrown.
The laughter echoed throughout the neighborhood,
and the smiles spread from one ear to the other.
The two younger boys motion me to join them,
but I pass.
Instead, I turn back to straighten myself in the seat
and stare blankly at the now cold bowl
of chicken and stars soup
that was intended for me to eat.
It just so happened
that was the goal for yesterday as well.
And the day before that,
and the day before that,
and so on.
My stomach had probably shrunk three times its size
that week.

I lifted my arm and pushed the bowl far away from me.
Slowly, I stood from the chair
and shuffled my way over to the couch,
where I collapsed for the next three hours.
When I awoke,
the bright sky that had earlier made the snow sparkle, was now dark.
Everything that was once beautiful
began to turn gloomy.

With what little energy I had left,
I reached to turn on the television
in hopes to distract my mind
from the images that would soon follow.
The very same images that haunted me at night
and refused to let me sleep in peace.
Images that followed me throughout my day
and in every silent moment.
I'd become afraid to sleep,
or even be alone for more than a few seconds.
They were flashing neon signs
reminding me of what was now gone.
I was a lifeless statue that sat in the same exact spot for hours on end.
Images made it difficult to breathe.

"We're not right for each other," he said.
Oh how I knew he was right from the start.
I never was good enough to be with him.
He didn't want me,
and it was as simple as that.