I have been bingeing and purging actively
desperately trying to rid all sort of emotions by stuffing my finger down my throat
the past two weeks.
It has led me to feeling somewhat inept lately.
It all starts from –
I’m hungry
to I’ll eat a little more because I am hungry
to It’s okay I can over-eat once in a while
to I think I am eating too much
to I ate too much
to I have to purge this out
to Don’t do it
to **** THIS ****
I am a raging bulimic.
At the same time I am an irresponsible lover –
It hurts me to see her take her leave but the Good Samaritan in me thinks she’d be better off without me –
without the vicious grip of Ana and Mia on me overflowing, grippling her sanity.
I can never ask for a better companion but my ED has the ability to trick me,
manipulating her never-ending support for my recovery
with sabotaging my everlasting quest for perfection.
I have reduced my feelings to writing, purging out my emotions in the form of poetry,
usually disguised as a lover pining for the return of her one true love.
Right now I am armed with my ink pen and an overused jotter book,
left to defend for myself against the overpowering voices in my head.
Triggering graphic images enough to scare a death-prone patient into total recovery
has been thrown right in my face yet I still seem nonchalant.
My voice is drowned by the loud voices of Ana and Mia –
both ordering me what to do, all at the same time.
Either that or I am the adolescent hiding in my room –
filled with nothing but fear, overhearing the bickering of my parents
debating about which school I should go to,
what course of study should I pursue,
when am I old enough to go out with my friends to the mall,
et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.
What led me here?
Am I finding the transition of growing up into adulthood intimidating?
Am I really afraid of gaining weight?
Am I using food to deal with my emotions?
Do I think that I am not good enough?
Do I feel that this is the only way I can be in control?
Do I not want to get out?
Is this my desperate plea for attention I’ve been denied of?
Is it change that I fear?
Is what I’m working towards to just a mere subtle suicide?
I don’t know. All I know is that I won’t stop until I am stripped to my bare essentials.
Aug 8, 2015
Aug 8, 2015 at 9:23 AM UTC
I have been bingeing and purging actively
desperately trying to rid all sort of emotions by stuffing my finger down my throat
the past two weeks.
It has led me to feeling somewhat inept lately.
It all starts from –
I’m hungry
to I’ll eat a little more because I am hungry
to It’s okay I can over-eat once in a while
to I think I am eating too much
to I ate too much
to I have to purge this out
to Don’t do it
to **** THIS ****
I am a raging bulimic.
At the same time I am an irresponsible lover –
It hurts me to see her take her leave but the Good Samaritan in me thinks she’d be better off without me –
without the vicious grip of Ana and Mia on me overflowing, grippling her sanity.
I can never ask for a better companion but my ED has the ability to trick me,
manipulating her never-ending support for my recovery
with sabotaging my everlasting quest for perfection.
I have reduced my feelings to writing, purging out my emotions in the form of poetry,
usually disguised as a lover pining for the return of her one true love.
Right now I am armed with my ink pen and an overused jotter book,
left to defend for myself against the overpowering voices in my head.
Triggering graphic images enough to scare a death-prone patient into total recovery
has been thrown right in my face yet I still seem nonchalant.
My voice is drowned by the loud voices of Ana and Mia –
both ordering me what to do, all at the same time.
Either that or I am the adolescent hiding in my room –
filled with nothing but fear, overhearing the bickering of my parents
debating about which school I should go to,
what course of study should I pursue,
when am I old enough to go out with my friends to the mall,
et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.
What led me here?
Am I finding the transition of growing up into adulthood intimidating?
Am I really afraid of gaining weight?
Am I using food to deal with my emotions?
Do I think that I am not good enough?
Do I feel that this is the only way I can be in control?
Do I not want to get out?
Is this my desperate plea for attention I’ve been denied of?
Is it change that I fear?
Is what I’m working towards to just a mere subtle suicide?
I don’t know. All I know is that I won’t stop until I am stripped to my bare essentials.
