her lips quivered at the mess she made, of herself and of her life. her eyes moved down towards the toilet to see the splatter of pastel colours. the different textures, the different colours that filled the bowl. and her eyes, swollen. her lips appeared as though she had been sucking on a pop too long and the perimeter of her lips seemed to have expanded. inflamed, her entire face appeared inflamed - like her life.
by the way - whose idea was that? Chocowave Shockwave? Snowballimus? let us all take a moment to remember the IQ points lost during the creation of these treats. you did not go down in vain.
sun down now we have built our place. an aviary forever.
- "olympic airways - foals"
temptation pulls at the strings of my heart as my hand reaches. grabs. touches. releases. pulls back. reasoning has saved me. reasoning is my salvation. that will cause me to lash out irrationally. the war with bulimia can never be won. battles may belong to you, but bulimia lives in your brain. forever. and always. the sadness lurks in your brain. always. the shadow is always cast over you, you and your face. you and your heart. you will always be conquered by bulimia. and your sense can only beat it, at its time of weakness.
you will never reach the salvation that will save you. you will only taste the salvation that teases you.
you and your senses.
the bitter taste of acid lurks at the back of your throat.
biting at your tongue.
bulimia sings in your head, and all you can do is push it. push it back for now.
keep it back there for a minute.
however, it will come back.
bulimia never leaves you alone. you're never alone. bulimia will always be there for you.
you'll never be good enough.
good enough to fight this off.
good enough to fend this off.
it will always haunt you.
go ahead, starve yourself for now, who are you fooling?
bulimia is your identity. you can never beat that.