Chapter 1

I remember the changes now. Discerning them has become easier with time, similar to the way any person reflects on any self transformation. Much in the same way two pictures placed years apart will reveal differences in a person that the daily glance toward the mirror doesn’t, time has helped me to identify my own metamorphosis that once seemed so subtle.

I remember now, the slow death of my appetite. My favorite foods slowly degenerated from delicious to decent, from decent to dissatisfying. In the end food seemed, to me, revolting. I watched as my mother went through phases of anxiety. She was worried a little at first, treating my loss of stomach as a sign that I was finally settling into adulthood, losing my “growing boy’s cast-iron tummy” as she put it, though eventually she grew to be more than merely concerned. She was nearly sick with fear for me after my consecutive week of declining every form of meal she could conceive.

I remember forgetting to sleep. For awhile my parents thought I was suffering from insomnia.

“Dad, insomniacs are people who feel like sleeping and can’t. They’re usually exhausted aren’t they? Do I seem exhausted to you?” He looked me over and sighed. The sad truth of it was that this argument was getting to be more exhausting than any lack of sleep I’d ever had.

“No, you don’t seem exhausted, but the bags under your eyes are starting to look more like bruises. You haven’t been eating enough either, the docter says that’s a sign of sleep deprivation you know.”

I had heard it all before, the worst part was not being able to make a sound defense. I had been to the doctor’s and they had deigned me perfectly healthy, albeit the dark rings they found odd.

Perfectly healthy was an understatement for what I was feeling, better than ever would’ve fit a little more squarely. For me at least, what I was feeling was great. Eating less meant my parents couldn’t complain that I was putting away the whole fridge, a short lived victory I found, as they were equally concerned with my new eating habits. I however was enjoying the weight loss without the loss of energy. I was growing rapidly fit and watched habitually as my muscles toned themselves each day, wondering if it had anything to do with my diet.

Forgetting to sleep was a more complicated problem because at first it was miserable, I truly was exhausted. I remember nights when I would lay stubbornly in bed, staring into the darkness around me, then shutting my eyes as tightly as I could, counting sheep as I drifted into a psuedo sleep. Those were the nights when my confidence would waver. I did, after all, have hours to think about what it would be like to live a lifetime of chronic restlessness and sleep deprivation.