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Anne comsumed this girl I knew...
When I was in sixth grade I had a friend named Emi. She was two years older than me and in eighth grade. Emi was about 5’ 5”-5’ 6” with natural chocolate brown hair and she had a very natural slender build. Her face was very Irish looking and she had the most beautiful smile. She had these cosmic eyes that I had never ever seen before, it’s like you could almost get lost in them, like there was something deeper below the surface than what was seen on the outside. Because she and I did not live very close to each other and both of us went to two different schools we would email back and forth to one another almost every single day (this was back when emailing was still cool). Usually Emi and I would talk about life, while ranting about different subjects. This of course would go over several different emails and take up large amounts of our time together. Some times she would send me her poetry to read. I would give her feed back on her poetry. We never ran out of things to say to one another. This was before I ran out of things to say to anyone.
How would I describe Emi? Emi was encouraging and brave. She always encouraged me even though I was not so willing to have that encouragement. At the time I wanted to be a model. I mean what girl doesn’t think about it at least once in their lifetime? It’s as easy as wanting to become a ballerina, nurse, or princess. She told me I should do that over wanting to become a poet as a living, because very few poets and writers make it now a days. Emi was a part time model and worked for a local agency. She offered to talk to her manager for me, but I politely declined her offer. I wasn’t really that serious about doing that kind of thing and it was really just more of an idea. To be honest when I was a lot younger I had really bad self-esteem. I thought I was fat and ugly. Like my face was too round to be on camera and my nose should have been pointed instead of squished to my face like a pug. I felt like I was a mistake and that I was made the wrong way. I mean I should have been born like the “pretties”. Well that was what I thought at the time along with many other dark revenging thoughts that poked and protted at my mind. After awhile I gave up wanting to be a model and still stuck with the poet idea.
One day after school, having had an extremely long day I got off the school bus like usual and walked home from my stop. Thus then arriving home 15 minutes later. I set down my backpack in the front of my entryway and gathered all the necessities for a bowl of cereal. I was quite hungry. Finally after eating my delicious bowl of Waffle Crisp, I turned on my computer to check the usual inner workings of the day that I had missed because of having to be at school. When I opened my email there was already one waiting for me, only it was not from Emi. Instead of the email being from her it was from her mom explaining to me that Emi was in the hospital and that she would not be getting out of there any time soon. Julia (That is Emi’s mom’s name by the way) told me that her daughter had an important secret that she had been keeping from everyone and that I should go see her soon. She let me know that Emi was at Regions and if I wanted to see her visiting hours were from 10:00 a.m. to 7:00 p.m. I wasn’t sure how to feel after reading the message. In all honesty I was frightened and worried. Instantly, like on autopilot, my brain started imagining the worst things possible! My mom wasn’t even home yet, but I called her and told her everything I had just read. She told me to hang on; she was going to be home soon any minute. I quickly changed into some different clothes, when I finally got outside my mother was already there, waiting for me in the driveway.
On the way there I could not stop thinking about how Emi was keeping some large secret from everyone. I understood that people were entitled to keep things locked away from everyone else’s knowledge until they felt like they needed to share what ever that may be. I was curious to find out, but I wasn’t really sure that I wanted to know. She was in the freaking hospital for Christ’s sake! “What would make her have to be there?”, “How long is long?” ,“Will she get better or is this something that’s going to kill her?!” Those were just some of the thoughts I was thinking. Each one of them kept racing around and around in my mind like tiny toy cars on a track. I just couldn’t stop imagining the worst. The car ride seemed to be taking forever, but I didn’t say anything to my mom. I just couldn’t open my mouth; there was too much going through my head. I was already feeling uncomfortable enough as it was and talking to her would have only made things worse. I just stared out the window instead and tried to pretend I was somewhere else. Some place that made sense.
I don’t remember exactly what happened, but this is what I envisioned happening, rather this what I think happened. We pulled up to Regions hospital and quickly shuffled ourselves; well it was more like we ran. The first thing that hit me when I entered through the sliding doors was the smell of the place. It smelled of death, rebirth, and mints. I wasn’t exactly sure why this was so, but that is just how it was. We went straight to the front desk, which was placed, nicely into view. I asked the receptionist what room Emi was in to which she asked me what her last name was, what was your association to the patient, how I knew her, and that visiting hours are over at 7:00 p.m. I answered her questions as such. I knew the patient to whom I told the receptionist that her name was Emi, her last name was Johnson, I was associated to her because I was her friend, and I knew her because our mother’s were friends. There was a slight edge to my tone when I told her all that she has asked for, but it wasn’t intentional. I was mainly just focused on Emi and wanted to get to her as soon as possible, but everything seemed to be getting in the way and not wanting us to meet up ever. The receptionist told us that she was in room 42 A the special victims unit (it was something like that. I don’t remember all that clearly). I hurried myself there as possible and running in to a few people making them agitated as I ran past. My mother was not to far behind; only she was more polite about running into them than I was. We reached her room and my mother said that she would stay outside Emi’s room till the two of us were done with what ever business we had to discuss.
I took my time walking to the door and was breathing heavily. I was trying to prepare myself for the worst. I lifted one of my small hands to her door, pushed it open, and stepped inside. There was no turning back now. I was here and she was to over there. A curtain was covering her bed separating her from the outside world. I gently pulled it back and peeked in to see if I was disturbing her. Emi was looking out a window that was placed near her. It had a lovely view of the outside world. She seemed to be caught up in everything that was out there, so I quietly pulled the curtain back abit (just enough that I could get through) and sat down on to the chair that was placed near her bed. I waited till she was done and gently laid my left hand on her frail arm to let her know that I was there and that she wasn’t alone anymore. We didn’t speak for a few minutes, because neither of us was really sure what to say. It had been a couple of years since we’d actually seen each other with school and all. She was the first to break the understanding silence and said that she felt so guilty for having me to see her like this, and then she began to cry. I didn’t really know why. Little did I know then that my question would be revealed in next few seconds. There had been a sheet covering her so as to keep her warm. She pulled back the sheet hesitantly to reveal her secret. My eyes widened at the sight of what she revealed to me and then I began to cry too. Her body was so thin and frail. You could see the bones practically sticking out and there were these large ugly cuts that were all over her body like a plague of locusts ready to consume anything that stood in their pathway. Emi explained to me that she has been dealing with Anorexia and Bulimia for quite some time now. Sometimes she would use a razor to help release the pain. She felt like there wasn’t any control in her life and so she found something that she could control over. While she explained all this I just sat there to stunned and horrified to say anything. I was angry at first, because she didn’t have the to guts to tell me that she was dealing with things beyond her control, that she felt like she had to handle these things all by herself and with her own means. Then I wasn’t sure what I felt. All I knew was that I wasn’t going to leave her now not while she was going through something beyond her control. I let her know that I wasn’t going anywhere and that I would continue to visit until she could leave. She told me that she was only going to be here for about another week or two and then they were going to move her to a treatment facility. I asked how long that would take and she said she didn’t know. They told her it would be awhile and if she cooperated and showed signs of improvement she could be released, but would have to report each week. I asked her how I would be able to stay in touch with her. She told me that we could write letters back and fourth since she would not have any access to a computer anymore. I told her that would be fine and that I would reply to each and every single letter that she sent me. I told her that she didn’t have to worry and that I would be watching out for her, keeping her in my prayers. Then the visiting hours were over and I had to leave. I walked slowly towards the door again, pushed it open once more, and slowly walked out of Regions. My mother and I road back in silence just the way I needed it to be. I was to overwhelmed with all of the things I had just learned.
Almost everyday after school I would hop off the bus and get into the car with my mother. I would stop by and visit Emi for several hours. Sometimes if she was to exhausted, I would just sit there quietly and watch her sleep. She looked so peaceful just lying there. I would often wonder what she was dreaming about. Sometimes I would try to imagine them. All of this lasted for about 2-3 weeks till she was moved to the treatment facility. This is when the letters started to first arrive. I remember sitting in school impatiently just so that I could go home and read her letters. This became a constant ritual for about two years and then one day the letters just stopped coming.
Apparently Emi had been let out, but she was very different afterwards. She didn’t seem as though she wanted to have anything to do with any one who knew about her “disorders” and she didn’t seem like she wanted to be close to them either. I’ll admit I was hurt, but I didn’t hold it against her. I still don’t.
What happened to Emi? Well after she was released from the hospitial, she emailed me a few times, and then just stopped. A few months later we exchanged letters again, but that didn’t last long. Her heart wasn’t in it and I could tell, so I just let it drop. We don’t talk anymore, but I still keep tabs on her through Facebook. She is doing well and is thriving is the lively city of San Francisco, California.
(This is a story,not a long poem.Yes I knew Emi.Yes this really happened.)
How would I describe Emi? Emi was encouraging and brave. She always encouraged me even though I was not so willing to have that encouragement. At the time I wanted to be a model. I mean what girl doesn’t think about it at least once in their lifetime? It’s as easy as wanting to become a ballerina, nurse, or princess. She told me I should do that over wanting to become a poet as a living, because very few poets and writers make it now a days. Emi was a part time model and worked for a local agency. She offered to talk to her manager for me, but I politely declined her offer. I wasn’t really that serious about doing that kind of thing and it was really just more of an idea. To be honest when I was a lot younger I had really bad self-esteem. I thought I was fat and ugly. Like my face was too round to be on camera and my nose should have been pointed instead of squished to my face like a pug. I felt like I was a mistake and that I was made the wrong way. I mean I should have been born like the “pretties”. Well that was what I thought at the time along with many other dark revenging thoughts that poked and protted at my mind. After awhile I gave up wanting to be a model and still stuck with the poet idea.
One day after school, having had an extremely long day I got off the school bus like usual and walked home from my stop. Thus then arriving home 15 minutes later. I set down my backpack in the front of my entryway and gathered all the necessities for a bowl of cereal. I was quite hungry. Finally after eating my delicious bowl of Waffle Crisp, I turned on my computer to check the usual inner workings of the day that I had missed because of having to be at school. When I opened my email there was already one waiting for me, only it was not from Emi. Instead of the email being from her it was from her mom explaining to me that Emi was in the hospital and that she would not be getting out of there any time soon. Julia (That is Emi’s mom’s name by the way) told me that her daughter had an important secret that she had been keeping from everyone and that I should go see her soon. She let me know that Emi was at Regions and if I wanted to see her visiting hours were from 10:00 a.m. to 7:00 p.m. I wasn’t sure how to feel after reading the message. In all honesty I was frightened and worried. Instantly, like on autopilot, my brain started imagining the worst things possible! My mom wasn’t even home yet, but I called her and told her everything I had just read. She told me to hang on; she was going to be home soon any minute. I quickly changed into some different clothes, when I finally got outside my mother was already there, waiting for me in the driveway.
On the way there I could not stop thinking about how Emi was keeping some large secret from everyone. I understood that people were entitled to keep things locked away from everyone else’s knowledge until they felt like they needed to share what ever that may be. I was curious to find out, but I wasn’t really sure that I wanted to know. She was in the freaking hospital for Christ’s sake! “What would make her have to be there?”, “How long is long?” ,“Will she get better or is this something that’s going to kill her?!” Those were just some of the thoughts I was thinking. Each one of them kept racing around and around in my mind like tiny toy cars on a track. I just couldn’t stop imagining the worst. The car ride seemed to be taking forever, but I didn’t say anything to my mom. I just couldn’t open my mouth; there was too much going through my head. I was already feeling uncomfortable enough as it was and talking to her would have only made things worse. I just stared out the window instead and tried to pretend I was somewhere else. Some place that made sense.
I don’t remember exactly what happened, but this is what I envisioned happening, rather this what I think happened. We pulled up to Regions hospital and quickly shuffled ourselves; well it was more like we ran. The first thing that hit me when I entered through the sliding doors was the smell of the place. It smelled of death, rebirth, and mints. I wasn’t exactly sure why this was so, but that is just how it was. We went straight to the front desk, which was placed, nicely into view. I asked the receptionist what room Emi was in to which she asked me what her last name was, what was your association to the patient, how I knew her, and that visiting hours are over at 7:00 p.m. I answered her questions as such. I knew the patient to whom I told the receptionist that her name was Emi, her last name was Johnson, I was associated to her because I was her friend, and I knew her because our mother’s were friends. There was a slight edge to my tone when I told her all that she has asked for, but it wasn’t intentional. I was mainly just focused on Emi and wanted to get to her as soon as possible, but everything seemed to be getting in the way and not wanting us to meet up ever. The receptionist told us that she was in room 42 A the special victims unit (it was something like that. I don’t remember all that clearly). I hurried myself there as possible and running in to a few people making them agitated as I ran past. My mother was not to far behind; only she was more polite about running into them than I was. We reached her room and my mother said that she would stay outside Emi’s room till the two of us were done with what ever business we had to discuss.
I took my time walking to the door and was breathing heavily. I was trying to prepare myself for the worst. I lifted one of my small hands to her door, pushed it open, and stepped inside. There was no turning back now. I was here and she was to over there. A curtain was covering her bed separating her from the outside world. I gently pulled it back and peeked in to see if I was disturbing her. Emi was looking out a window that was placed near her. It had a lovely view of the outside world. She seemed to be caught up in everything that was out there, so I quietly pulled the curtain back abit (just enough that I could get through) and sat down on to the chair that was placed near her bed. I waited till she was done and gently laid my left hand on her frail arm to let her know that I was there and that she wasn’t alone anymore. We didn’t speak for a few minutes, because neither of us was really sure what to say. It had been a couple of years since we’d actually seen each other with school and all. She was the first to break the understanding silence and said that she felt so guilty for having me to see her like this, and then she began to cry. I didn’t really know why. Little did I know then that my question would be revealed in next few seconds. There had been a sheet covering her so as to keep her warm. She pulled back the sheet hesitantly to reveal her secret. My eyes widened at the sight of what she revealed to me and then I began to cry too. Her body was so thin and frail. You could see the bones practically sticking out and there were these large ugly cuts that were all over her body like a plague of locusts ready to consume anything that stood in their pathway. Emi explained to me that she has been dealing with Anorexia and Bulimia for quite some time now. Sometimes she would use a razor to help release the pain. She felt like there wasn’t any control in her life and so she found something that she could control over. While she explained all this I just sat there to stunned and horrified to say anything. I was angry at first, because she didn’t have the to guts to tell me that she was dealing with things beyond her control, that she felt like she had to handle these things all by herself and with her own means. Then I wasn’t sure what I felt. All I knew was that I wasn’t going to leave her now not while she was going through something beyond her control. I let her know that I wasn’t going anywhere and that I would continue to visit until she could leave. She told me that she was only going to be here for about another week or two and then they were going to move her to a treatment facility. I asked how long that would take and she said she didn’t know. They told her it would be awhile and if she cooperated and showed signs of improvement she could be released, but would have to report each week. I asked her how I would be able to stay in touch with her. She told me that we could write letters back and fourth since she would not have any access to a computer anymore. I told her that would be fine and that I would reply to each and every single letter that she sent me. I told her that she didn’t have to worry and that I would be watching out for her, keeping her in my prayers. Then the visiting hours were over and I had to leave. I walked slowly towards the door again, pushed it open once more, and slowly walked out of Regions. My mother and I road back in silence just the way I needed it to be. I was to overwhelmed with all of the things I had just learned.
Almost everyday after school I would hop off the bus and get into the car with my mother. I would stop by and visit Emi for several hours. Sometimes if she was to exhausted, I would just sit there quietly and watch her sleep. She looked so peaceful just lying there. I would often wonder what she was dreaming about. Sometimes I would try to imagine them. All of this lasted for about 2-3 weeks till she was moved to the treatment facility. This is when the letters started to first arrive. I remember sitting in school impatiently just so that I could go home and read her letters. This became a constant ritual for about two years and then one day the letters just stopped coming.
Apparently Emi had been let out, but she was very different afterwards. She didn’t seem as though she wanted to have anything to do with any one who knew about her “disorders” and she didn’t seem like she wanted to be close to them either. I’ll admit I was hurt, but I didn’t hold it against her. I still don’t.
What happened to Emi? Well after she was released from the hospitial, she emailed me a few times, and then just stopped. A few months later we exchanged letters again, but that didn’t last long. Her heart wasn’t in it and I could tell, so I just let it drop. We don’t talk anymore, but I still keep tabs on her through Facebook. She is doing well and is thriving is the lively city of San Francisco, California.
(This is a story,not a long poem.Yes I knew Emi.Yes this really happened.)
Published 4th Sep 2011
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4th Sep 2011 3:08pm
5th Sep 2011 6:57pm
