Rebecca Perkins
The Scale
The silence of your presence and the stillness of calm whisper to your dreams, asking of your presence in another vapid day. Clenched fists rub sleep’s remnants from your eyes while you stagger from the safety of warmth and heavy coverings. You recoil at the cold bathroom tile that touches your skin and make your way to the being of what will determine—worthless or worthy. Eyes averted from the mirror, your shaking hands grip the smoothness of the sink’s outer realm. Exhale, and step slowly into the judging of your essence. The numbers flicker back and forth, inching up and down, up, down, then finally down. You tremble, then finally open your eyes and stare at the garish red numbers displaying your fate – will you eat today or not? Despite its decline from yesterday, it is not enough. Your heart sinks, tears slip from tearing eyes, and you know deep down that it will never be.