Meet Lia
A deeper dive into Lia's thoughts and feelings from, DumpED
The race.
September 7th, 2024
I won today, but I’m not sure it matters. I was fast, like always. I made Ed proud, but what about me? Coach Morris was thrilled, cheering me on as I crossed the finish line. But it’s not her voice I listen to anymore; it’s Ed’s. He has rules—rules that make me run faster, push harder, and feel in control. Or at least, that’s what I tell myself.
Mom didn’t even notice. She was too busy unraveling in front of Cole, telling him about how Dad wasn’t there again. It’s not like she invited him. She won’t even let me talk to him half the time, as if that makes any of this easier. Sometimes I wonder if anyone cares about what I do, or if I’m just here to be the “good kid” who doesn’t make trouble.
Ed’s the only one who seems to get it, to really know what I need. He keeps me in line when everything else is falling apart. The pain from running is almost comforting. It’s something I can manage. I want to feel normal, but I don’t even know what normal is anymore.
I thought winning the race would make me happy. But lying on the grass afterward, with my chest burning and my legs aching, I felt empty. I keep going through the motions, but I’m starting to wonder how much longer I can keep this up. Maybe if I push harder, it’ll be enough for Ed. Maybe then I’ll finally feel like I’ve won something.
The Library Escape.
September 9th, 2024
The library is the only place that feels safe. Reshelving books means I don’t have to think, don’t have to feel. It's like I’m putting everything in order, even when I can’t control the chaos around me. Sometimes, I just wish I could stay here forever, away from the noise of the hallways and the pressure of being “Lia the track star.”
Chloe’s been acting weird lately. I know she’s worried about me, but I can’t tell her the truth. She wouldn’t understand, and besides, I don’t want her pity. I’m not even sure I understand what's happening to me. I just feel so distant from everyone. Even Ed is harder to talk to sometimes. I can’t focus on anything anymore, except the rules we’ve made together.
I didn’t eat lunch again today. Ed says it’s better this way, and it’s not like I’m hungry anyway. Besides, food just complicates things. It’s easier when I stick to what Ed says: control what you can, and the rest will fall into place. But why does it feel like I’m losing control of everything else?
It’s exhausting pretending I’m okay when inside, I feel like I’m fading. I keep thinking about Dad—how things used to be before he left. Back then, I wasn’t so tired all the time. I wish he were here to help me sort things out, but I can’t even talk to him without making Mom upset. So, I keep it all inside and let Ed guide me. Maybe if I just follow his rules, I’ll be fine.
The hospital.
September 12th, 2024
II’m in a hospital bed right now, and I don’t even know how I got here. One minute I was talking to Ms. Amy, and the next thing I knew, I was on the ground. It’s embarrassing. I can only imagine what Chloe or the rest of the school will say when they find out. Maybe it’s good that Ed wasn’t here to see me like this.
The doctors are running tests, but I’m sure it’s nothing. They’ll probably say I’m low on iron or something. Mom and Dad are both here, which is weird because they haven’t been in the same room without yelling since the separation. Dad’s trying to act all concerned, but where was he when I really needed him? And Mom—of course, she’s on a work call while I’m lying here hooked up to machines.
Ed says this is just a setback, and I shouldn’t worry. But I can’t stop thinking about how things got so bad. I wasn’t always like this. I used to be able to handle school, friends, and track. Now, it all feels like too much. Sometimes I wonder if anyone even notices how hard I’m trying to keep it all together. Maybe if I follow Ed’s rules more closely, everything will make sense again.
But lying here in this hospital bed, I feel scared. What if this isn’t just a passing thing? What if I really am losing control? I don’t want to think about it too much, though. I just need to get out of here and back to my routine. Maybe then, everything will go back to normal. Or at least, whatever normal is for me now.
The father.
March 19, 2025
Where do I even begin?
Think back to the ending. The part where I told you I was happily moving to Chicago to be with my dad after my parents separated. That was real. It happened. I packed my bags, said my goodbyes, and boarded that flight with hope in my chest. But then… this happened.
I reached out to Ed.
My dad met someone new. He got busy with his job, his new relationship, and suddenly, I was left to “do life” and “practice recovery” on my own—in a brand new city, with minimal parental supervision.
For most high schoolers, that might’ve just meant figuring out how to adult a little—like burning their fingers on hot Ramen noodles, forgetting to lock the front door, or spacing on that “I made it home safe” text to their parents. Minor stuff.
But for me? Recovery wasn’t minor.
Ed was supposed to be gone. We broke up. I left him in another state. I started meeting new people, started feeling like myself again. I even had a new crush in English class—Zak. But the familiar sound of Ed and being in a new place, new people, had me reminded of how much I needed him to get through life.
I