some more of my novel, "addicted"

Suddenly, I break.

I’m done. I need food. I need it emotionally-I need the comfort that none other could provide. I tare open the pantry, ripping out peanut butter and sugary cereal and power bars and all of the things in the fridge and I let them in. I allow them to enter my body and force upon me what they must and I don’t care. I don’t think. I don’t think about the bubbling fat that would immediately arise or the extra pounds on the scale or all my hard work-I don’t think of any of it. Until the indulgence is gone.
 

                Suddenly, it all comes hurtling at me like atomic bombs bombarding my thoughts. What have I done? I’m disgusting. How could I let this happen? I’m such a fatass idiot. I can feel it I can feel my sides expanding I can feel the cellulite spreading down my thunder thighs I feel my stomach slowly overflowing overlapping my shorts I feel it it’s my fault

I need to un feel it

                I drop everything and sprint the bathroom. I skid to A stop at the toilet where I bend down, gagging with my fingers down my throat. I want it gone.

                Nothing is happening no matter how hard I try and I am beginning to taste blood in the back of my throat from my rough fingernails leaving gashes.

I need to unfeel it

I fall to the cold, tile floor back first leaving bruises on my spine, and attempt to burn it all away with sit-ups.

Not fast enough

Not good enough

Not enough

I feel so much right now I feel the tears streaming down the sides of my face and I can taste the saltiness of them but salty=fat and that’s good to lose so I force myself to continue sobbing. At least I think I’m sobbing. I can’t hear even myself over the horrible ringing in my ears. Up own up down up down not good enough not fast enough not enough up down up down.

A slight glimmer of silver in the shower manages to catch my eye. Yes.

Cut it out

Cut it all out

It will be gone then

It will be unfelt

I lift myself off the floor and reach across the tub part of the shower and find it.

Pink and feminine.

It has such an innocent use, just for beauty.

 

I turn into a monster. I begin ripping at the pink plastic surrounding the blades, mutilating my fingertips till they look like sausage meat but I can’t feel anything because I’m thinking about when this will finally be unfelt. I slip a single blade out.

This one is new. No rust or anything. It hasn’t even come in contact with human skin yet. But I know what i have to do.

I take the first slice, gracefully slipping the blade from one end of my stomach to the other. It is just a deep red line across my abdomen. No blood yet. No food. No feelings.

More

More

Moremoremore

I keep on going over the same place and it begins to bleed but I keep going till it’s all gone and un felt and

I can be normal.

I’m screaming and crying and soon there is blood everywhere on me and my slicing has gotten deeper   but I still haven’t gotten to the feelings so I keep going. Crimson liquid spills out, sadness and loneliness and pressure and food and mistakes and fuck ups

And me

We all are spilling out.

Things get blurry and my hand is too shaky to control anymore. I collapse to the tile floor. I watch as liquid-me stains the grout and floats along making tiny little happy rivers of happiness. Things are getting bright like what you’d think a white room would look like if a huge florescent light bulb was about to burst. Slowly, a grin spreads across my face. No more feelings.

They are finally unfelt.

I am free.

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