Category: Writers Block
i wrote this, after seeing some of my friend's experiences with this eating disorder..
My name is Bulimia. Bulimia Nervosa is my full name. but you can call me Mia.
I think me and you will get on so well. I know you like no one else. I know you’re inner most thoughts, your hopes and desires. You’re secret self hatred
for the way your pathetic fat body looks. I can be a great help to you. But first you must invest so much time in me and in return I shall do the same
for others.
I’ll start our relationship by putting little niggling feelings in your head. Making you believe you are so much more disgusting than you are. I’ll make
you feel sick when you look in the mirror. Your stomach will churn with the self hatred. You will start to restrict your food intake, maybe do some exercise.
The need to eat will slowly drive you insane. You will try to control it until you no longer can.
You will run to the kitchen and open the cupboards. You will eat everything you can get your hands on. Forcing food down your throat until you choke. You
will sit back feeling satisfied… but I will be in your mind. I will tell you that you are disgusting. Only fat pigs eat that much. I will make you hate
yourself for it. I’ll make a suggestion… maybe you should make yourself sick… it won’t hurt the once. You will follow my advice and find yourself kneeling
looking into the porcelain throne…
You will shove your fingers down your throat retching and puking until all that is coming up is bile. As you get light headed from all the retching I tell
you not to faint… its your fault you had to do this. You should have listened to me. You shouldn’t eat.
This will eventually become a regular pattern in your life. Binging and purging. Some days you will even purge your dinner as it will start to feel to
much to have food in your stomach. You will become an expert liar, having to come up with all manner of reasons to get away to chuck up. I’m going for
a bath/shower, I’m just going out for a walk (to the public toilets but I’m not gonna tell you that), you may even eventually resort to being sick in a
plastic bag or bin in your bedroom, just so you don’t seem obvious going to the toilet all the time. No one can find out, this is our little secret and
no one else will understand. You will feel proud of yourself for doing this, you may even lose a few pounds. But knowing you are in control will be the
best. Well, you will be thinking you are in control…. But I made you like this and I can break you too. My thoughts and your thoughts are becoming one.
I’m invading your mind body and soul. We now share it. I am you and you are me. Partners in crime and deception. Slowly destroying your body from the inside
out.
so sad, yet, I've seen the truth in this. awesome work, as always.
*shudder* Ouch, Dan. Very well written, though. That disease sounds so, so awful...
So well done, and so accurate!
wow that's good! keep it up
Well done, Dan. Love the metaphor "porcelain throne." That was my favorite line!
very nicely done. i've not known any who have had this disease but it reminds me of all the shit everyone has to go through every day.
we are constantly told how we must look and what we must eat, and sadly because people think they have to be as thin as sticks to be beautiful, this is what happens. i'm sorry my stuff never makes sense, but i hope someone can make sense of this insane rambling.
This is so well-done I'm sure I've seen it spread around the internet before. Takes a pretty impressive bit of writing to catch on that well.:)
This disease is a terrible thing. I was once very close to a lovely girl in my younger days. In so many ways she was everything I wanted....she struggled mightily with this disease. Sometimes she'd get the upper hand. Other times the disease would take hold. When that happened she hated herself, and she became an entirely different person. Sadly, we do not speak anymore. I don't know how she's doing. But I often think about her and hope she's well.
This reminds me of a letter written to "cutting," talking about how it's such a great friend and helps us cope and all...but how we might eventually decide to give it up because it takes more than it gives.
Here is the "letter" about self-injury that I previously mentioned...the way you wrote your post about bulemia reminded me of it:
"Dear Cutting,
Thank you for being such a great friend.
Thank you for always being there for me.
Thank you for helping me out when I couldn't continue on my own...
I'm sorry, though, because I don't need you anymore, Cutting.
I don't want this type of help that you give me. I don't want to hide in a dark bathroom anymore while people are outside laughing. I want to be one of the ones who laugh.
I don't have the time to give to you anymore, and you are too greedy, you keep wanting more and more time.
I am all grown up now, and yet you make me feel like a frightened little child. Swimming through tidal waves isn't good enough for me anymore, I want to learn how to fly.
See, I have discovered that you're not just an anti-anxiety pill...I have discovered that you are also a very dangerous one. You are eating away my insides, taking away what little control that I have, and I can't afford to lose anything more that belongs to me.
I don't need what you give me, because what you are taking away from me is even more important to me."
The problem is that self-injury is what we resort to when we think everything is out of our control...we figure it's the only thing we can control, when in actuality, it is controlling us...and that is exactly what "Mia" and "Ana" do.