One question. One fucking question sends me over the edge.
I remember the striped blanket.
I eat and I feel bad because this time I didn't buy the food. I am saying nonononono and wanting to die because I am dreading eating. I hate chewing and I hate swallowing and the feeling of the food inside me. But I force myself because I hate it.
I eat a peanut butter and honey sandwich. I eat four bagel bites. I eat two toaster pastries. I eat one chip. I eat 1/4 of a grilled cheese sandwich.
I 'shower'. I gag myself instead of taking advantage of the fact I can purge without it. Because it hurts. Because my nails scrape my throat and because my knuckles bleed after a while. As I walk out into the living room, wet hair and shaky hands and feeling pale blue, Grandma looks at me and says "You're such a good girl, Arianna. You're the ideal daughter. Perfect."
perfect.
i won't let you say goodbye, and i'll be your reason why.
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