𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐄𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 was raised from the ground up knowing nothing but comparison and perfection.
She compared herself to her successful parents, supermodel sister, and glamorous friends. Instead of love, she harbored a raging jealousy for nea...
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S i m o n e
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Extra TW: I talk in a lot of detail about Simone's ED and her mindset, if this is triggering (which is might be) skip to Nicolas's POV at the end
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Sometimes, in my most delusional state, I'd convince myself I didn't have an issue.
I'd convince myself that the way I perceived food, my intake, and a dire need for control over it was all normal.
Everyone else was the weird one. Always overeating, going out to dinners, and stuffing themselves so full they had to unbutton their jeans and stretch, groaning loudly. The way they'd snack on food out of the bag, get a side to their main course and appetizers. Always sodas and salt and sugar and carbs.
I'd convince myself it was weird how most people didn't measure their intake and didn't know the exact calorie count in 3 slices of butter atop their white fluffy pancakes for breakfast.
I was the only normal one in this world, I'd tell myself as I stared -- repulsed-- at innocent people ranging from preteens to the elderly as they'd take a bite from their chocolate croissants, unbothered and happy as the food filled their stomachs.
The delusional side of me whispered in my ear every second of the day that I had everything under control and it was the rest of the world who didn't have enough self-restraint to simply not eat.
But then there was the side of me, the side that begged for warmth, no more hair loss, my period, and my happiness back.
That side of me was the one I always avoided listening to, because it was rational, and it was right, and it made me feel like shit for ignoring it.
I was too tired to move.
It was 4 PM; I originally woke up at 9 AM but had been drifting in and out of sleep ever since.
