This time it's the fucking cupcakes. Pink frosting to prevent Breast Cancer in Women or something like that. Cupcakes cure everything right?

They go in nine, eight and three quarters, eight and a half, eight, seven and three quarters, seven and a half, seven. Too-smallbites, trying to stop. I don't want this. DontdontdontDONTDONTDONT. You want to be lovely, right? Then the rainingface comes and I'm crying like a wolf to moon and I'm glad I'm home alone for once because now the cupcakes go sixfivefourthreetwoone. In,in,in,in,ininin,inin,ininininininin. They're gone and there's pecan pie and leftover lasagna and even a quarter chicken. The deadcold bird's body is a week or two old but Inininininininininin it goes. 1.25L Diet coke is guzzled like I'm dehydrated and lost in the Sahara or something. My stomach hurts. I use my hands as shovels. My fingers claw at the chicken, sinking. Peeling, scratching, I'm digging into the chicken and I can almost see the poor thing screaming. I'm hurting it by ripping it apart. It's soul is crying, but that's not why it's screaming. It's screaming STOP. SCREAMINGSCREAMING,STOP.

I stop. I'm shaking. I'm vibrating. I'm bouncing and I start raining. My body falls down like a mannequin, first my head, then my arms, my body curlscurlscurls into a ball and all I want is to cry. Sobsobsob,rage,leave.. DIE. But I cant and wont. I wont die fat and covered in chicken and pie and whateverthefuckelse. Bathroom. NOW. That's what I wantneedneed,neverwantagain. Cream walls, previously white and clean and happy and hospitalhospital-like. Shower on, music on. Taps running. Home alone, sure.. but justincase thoughts never leave your side.. Fingers down throat, not enough.

Hand down throat, mouth splits open, the corners are red and bleeding and my mouth tastes like copper. And I don't know if it's because of the split mouth or the regurgitated chicken or the stomachacid or whateverthehellitis. My brain is fuzzyfuzzyfuzzy.. Hand out, in, out, in. Repeatrepeat until your brain feels like it's going to explode again, and my eyes are raining thunderstorms. I'm vibrating, falling. Mannequinmannequinmannequin. And I'm not done, never will be done. Need to stop eating before I kill myself. But not yet, (fingers in,choke,cry) I'm not done.