I haven't purged in God knows how long. Or well, I HADN'T purged in so long. Because I just did. I could just blame it on soccer. Today was the first day of tryouts, and when I got home I was so tired and hungry that I spent forever just walking from the refrigerator to the microwave, and back. When I finally finished eating, I felt like the biggest blob on the planet. I could feel it sitting in my stomach, the calories and fats absorbing into my body. Suddenly I couldn't take it anymore. I dragged my feet all the way to the bathroom, hopped in the shower, and got rid of it all. It was horrible. There were chunks of apple, and pineapple. There were whole strands of spaghetti, marinara sauce, broccoli bits, yoghurt, lunch meat, and worst of all, the curry. It all came up my throat, some of it out my nose, all this icky mixture of green, red, and yellow. My curry is always spicy, so imagine squirting hot sauce into your nose. Pure hell.
Thing is, I don't care about how big of a mess I made. Really that can be cleaned. And I don't care that my whole family heard me puking my guts our. So what if the admit me? I already know there's something wrong with me. But I have to live with myself knowing that I'm a big fat failure. The most disappointing thing is that I wanna do it again. And again. And again. I want the emptiness. The shocking part was how hard it was, and how long it took everything to come up. Now can you look me in the eye and tell me I'm not insane?
. . . I t h i n k n o t .
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