Insane in the Membrane

This body of mine is oh so frustrating. It never fails to amuse (read: infuriate) me how much more puke there is inside of me than I food I remember eating. Also, the worst foods always seem to be the last and most stubborn to come up. I typically make a point of eat food that is low calories, healthy and longer to digest (like vegetables) first and as my binge progresses the healthiness of food I eat decreases. Junk food like cookies, chips, or some other high cal food I save for last.

I always figure the last to go in will be the first to come up. It's not. As much as I try to disillusion myself with this logic, the conclusion (i.e. the spew in the porcelain bowl) does not always prove this hypothesis. The stomach churns. The heavier food will likely sink to the bottom. The processed food will break up quickly and shimmy on down, down, down. Food, when mixed and mingled with the acids, saliva, and mucous in and on it's way down to the stomach will expand the foods that absorbs it. That bowl of tomato soup can end up filling a toilet bowl. The calories in the chocolate cookie that I ate last will end up the first absorbed. 

So frustrating.

Some days puking is easier than others. Sometimes when the puking is done I am calm and relaxed. Some times I want to go at puking again, sometimes bingeing again, and sometimes I just want a damn nap. There is nothing consistent about my puking other than the frequency with which I've been at it. Daily.

I like the calm. I like when I have no appetite afterwards. I like the feeling of the food escaping from my stomach and through my esophagus. I like the taste of food. The first time. But if I'm being completely honest, I'm not too bothered by it the second time.

I can't seem to eat with out bingeing. I can't seem to binge without purging.  I have no energy, no ambition. Anytime I think of things that I need to do I want to retreat inside the batcave with the kitchen and the restroom.

Saturday is my mom's 50th birthday and I have failed everybody. I have ignored phone calls and not done the tasks that I needed to. I dreamed up the plan and then left it for everybody else to make happen while I hide in my private vomitorium under the guise of school and... mystery?

Solitude and suicidal thoughts are on the rise. I am afraid of what will become of me. I think I am going insane. I stay away from people unless it is absolutely necessary because I do not want to burden them with my presence. 

I have no idea what to expect of Saturday. I am so afraid of the day to come, the thought of it makes me want to cry (yes, I'm crying) and be dead. If I'm dead than I don't have to live through the failure and disappointment.

I am thinking irrationally.

I know this.

I'm losing sanity.