kara422

you're trying not to think about the ingredients, about your teeth, about your throat, about the way you know it'll hurt, yet you know it's all you can think about, because you poke those fingers in, you scrape around your throat, you take the skin off (a few grams lost already), you know that's all you'll ever lose, because you're trying not to think about what comes next, but you already know, you gag, you automatically stifle it, you cough, and all you bring up are the tears; you stare down at the empty plughole but you can barely see past your stomach, you go to plan b, squeeze a bit out, turn up that shower so they dont hear, sing a litt

It's the taste of failure, of whispers no-one else can hear, of an empty packet rustling; of fingers scraping out your throat like it's a bowl of chocolate sauce; of crying and eating yet more salt, it's looking at your hands with no control, it's giving up, wanting something so much and yet being too pathetic, it's the way you sit in that shower for hours just wanting it out, and the way you gag, cough and stop yourself, every time; it's staring at thinspo, crying and stuffing your face; it's helpless, it's useless, it's everything about you that deserves to die but never will. You tell yourself you're fighting it off, that you're being str