I wish I knew just how to confess the sickness happening in my head, but I have no clue how to start because I honestly have no idea how this whole mess began.
Each bite I take is precious, a tasty present I allow myself only once I've reached a state of pure unavoidable hunger. And each bite is torture, for I know each one will come back to haunt me, taunt me.
I walk into the bathroom, look down at the toilet, brush my hair off to the side, and begin my clandestine routine. I despise myself for this practice, but it is nothing compared to the repugnance I feel when looking at myself in a mirror. The few minutes of disgust are worthless in relation to the elation I feel when I see those calories expelled from my body, unable to be absorbed into my system, added onto me as even more fat.
It's an up and down mind battle. I hate myself for each action I take, but am unable to help it. I try not to eat, but sometimes I just get so **** hungry I cave to my cravings, regretting each torturous morsel as it passes between my lips. A trip to the bathroom, then, and it'll all be better soon I guess. But I'm hungry again much too soon and the terrible circle begins anew.
I don't know how to ask for help, am far too ashamed to admit these disgustingly illicit deeds. And for now I get to see the numbers on the scale decrease. Getting help would halt the progress I've worked so hard for.