A Description Of My Bulimia

I wrote a few paragraphs of how I see my bulimia.

It is an incessant animal that is indiscriminating. It is the vulture that will chew the plentiful deer carcass or the scarce rat bones, bits of rotting flesh hanging off its femur. Indiscriminating. It knows the beauty of the combinations dancing on the tongue but it cannot experience when it is ravenous. It is the cold, dead winter on the beautiful hues of summer and autumn; the beauty lies beneath the ice, dead and rotting away insidiously. We, the select few who embrace the winter, are doomed to collect the rotting leaves and die slowly. We ingest the snow sprinkled with urine and dirt and mud and care not about the taste or the texture but that our bellies are filling with the food that we steal from hungry mouths, we are selfish and we are voracious for no necessity. We are the select.

We consume everything. We consume all of ours and consume others’. We consume blindly and tastelessly. We consume with bright eyes and smiles – the Devour is exciting. To fill our bellies with rich foods, the appearance and disappearance of meals, it provides a release: we need not think of anything than the Devour. We consume with predetermined knowledge of the delight that it provides. We know the feel of the rapid change from ravenous to satiated and to ill. We know the feel of the chyme pressing the lining of our stomachs, we rise with difficulty and we know our task. We know it, and we welcome it and we are prepared for it. We walk, programmed by habit and disease, to our altar. For some, it is daunting. For others, it is pure, unadultered bliss.

The slime and the hot, disgusting mess fill our mouths and we taste the remnants of the past. We taste the acid and we taste the urgency of the binge through the purge. Some taste the familiar metal of blood. I taste relief. I taste the garbage leaving my body, an ectoplasm, the ghost of my shame leaving me. My stomach returns to normal. The bloat of a full stomach leaves me, and I collapse on the floor, covered in my saliva and vomit, my fingers dripping with mucus and spit and acid and food, the stench overpowers the room but it is relief. I smile and embrace the relief.
jojo8600 jojo8600
1 Response Sep 4, 2012

Me tow want to stope but when it start i cant control my self I cant stope tihs voice you are a loser<br />
I want take control I want to eat normal