After i binge, i head to my room and shut the door. The door to my room is locked. the music is up loud enough so i could drown out the sounds of my gagging but still hear the silent thud of footsteps. i think to myself, "it's either this or ipecac syrup liz- get it over with" sometimes, i opt for ipecac syrup, but the taste alone makes me almost puick and i feel sick to my stomach before and long after the effects have been done. so, i place my trashcan in front of me as i kneel over it. i pick up my toothbrush making sure i have my wetwipes at hand as to wipe the puick that splashes on my face. i insert the opposite end of the bristles into my mouth and lodge it slowly down my throat; deeper and deeper until every last bit comes up and theres nothing left but stomach acid to puick up. just to be sure, i often puick much of that up too. i have gotten so good that this process has become silent, no gagging, no coughing. i picture myself dying like this. or maybe hunched over the toilet with toothbrush in hand. but for now, i am in control of my life. i have the power. this seems to be the only thing i can control. sometimes i wish i could tell someone, plead for help. but i know it wouldnt change anything. its like a smoker begging someone to strip them of their ciggarettes after many years of being addicted without anything to replace the nicotine. or asking a crack fein to wein themselves off the drug all alone. i can't. i won't. slowly, i'm dying. i don't care though. or i'm ruining my health. but i'm so vulnerable. i'm rotting my teeth. ruining my heart; not long before i have a heart attack. but i know all this. there seems to be nothing to loose except in the long run. you can't predict the future, so why not control the present. this is my control. |
Submission Name: another episode
