Emily used to believe in fairytales.

In fact, once upon a time, she was so convinced that her own life was a dream; she had two loving, caring parents, she was one of the top students in her grade, she was a happy girl with big aspirations. She was more than content with her life.

But somewhere, something went wrong. She went wrong. Suddenly, she wasn't the cheerful, carefree girl who had dreams and hopes of helping people and creating a better world. School, which used to be a passion of hers, all of a sudden wasn't the number one priority for her. She could no longer imagine her future with clarity. And the uncertainty scared her.

She was falling, falling through a pit of despair and doubt. She didn't want to find out what happened if she reached rock bottom. She needed to gain back the control of her life which she once had.

Emily quickly realized that one thing she could control was food. In the beginning, it was only making healthier choices. But then she learned about calories (3500 calories is equivalent to one pound of fat, how many calories are in this? And this?) and decided for herself how much was too much and started counting (1500. No, 1200. Never mind, 900. Actually, that's still too much. 600? More like 500). Her family and friends were so proud of her. She was starting to act like the old Emily, the one who, once she set her mind to something, achieved it. She was glad she wasn't disappointing anyone anymore, so she must be doing something right (stepping on the scale. Stepping off, taking off her clothes, stepping on the scale again to see if the number will change).

As months passed, people around her started to notice her change in appearance. They congratulated her for her dedication (measuring each tablespoon worth of food going into her mouth meticulously) and admired her commitment to losing weight (lying and manipulating people to avoid eating).

Her relatives were shocked and jealous at family gatherings for how different she looked because in a society that worships thinness, she looked like a goddess (shaking hands, pounding headaches, standing up and momentarily seeing stars). She was complimented for her ability to control herself around food, carefully eating each bite (oh god, oh god, ohgodohgodohgodohgod she ate too much, what was she going to do?) and getting up from the table when her plate has been barely touched (slouched against the toilet, fingers shoved painfully down her throat; oh, and don't forget the times she goes to the kitchen at midnight when everyone else is asleep and eats everything in sight until her stomach feels as if it's going to rupture and tears are coming down her face at how painful it is and how shameful she feels).

For the first time in a long time, she had control over something in her life, and that was better than having no control. Right?

Emily used to believe in fairytales.

Now, she believes in nothing.

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It feels good to write about Emily again! Buckle up, people, because this is going to be a bumpy ride.