My psyche is cosmically scarred by the horrors of disordered eating. I limp through my days accompanied by the background hum of the desire to get junk food.
Not a scream. Not always, at least. Low and rumbling. Constant. Always present. Like a faraway storm that doesn’t dissipate.
The hollow voices murmur in a language I cannot comprehend. I know not their purpose nor their form - but somehow perfectly understand what they want of me.
I cannot escape the Golden Arches. As you barely come out of eyeshot of one, another reveals itself, mocking. Cathedrals, places of worship. Beacons. Signaling. Seductive. Ardent. Thirsty. I find myself at their door. How. How did I get here? I was home.
The hour grows late. I should turn back. I’m not even hungry. I had a meal but an hour ago.
Or did i? Perhaps I haven’t eaten for days. I can’t recall. No - surely. I feel nourished. Enough, at least. Complete? I wouldn’t say so. Not full, for that matter. My vision blurs. There’s definitely space. Some space. Wide space. Only. Space. Nothing else. Emptiness. I am nothing inside. I need more.
I am not myself. I perceive flashes of the world before me, distantly. I have no agency anymore. I become a witness to my own body. As if looking through a memory. I scream. Or try to. I have no air. Thrumming whispers come out of my mouth. Like a murmur. Low and rumbling. Constant.
I exist only to carry my cravings around. I open myself up, unfolding the entrances to within. The vacuum reveals itself. Loud whooshing takes hold. A deafening typhoon. All matter in front of me takes flight, thrust into the void where I stand. The sound is vibrating my skull. I cannot tell anything apart. I can only watch as the ceremony takes place. I cannot comprehend. All I feel is shaking. I am elated. Ecstasy, at last. I give in.
I come to. I don’t know what happened. I feel the embers of joy. Was I happy? I can’t tell what time it is. I see the paper scraps and wrappers around. Evidence. One?… Two? No. Three? Surely not, it wouldn’t have fit.
I feel sick. I feel great. I’m not doing ok. I’m bursting at the seams. I lay on my side and try to regather my thoughts. An errant idea, familiar and simple starts to burrow itself in the corner of my consciousness. I massage my abdomen. That feels a bit better. I belch and it feels like something shifts within. That’s good. Doesn’t feel like bursting anymore. Feels pretty ok actually. I sigh and get up to drink some water.
Actually you know what, that wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. Not as bad as last time at least. I’m not *full* full. I’m quite alright. Honestly, could’ve been worse. Could’ve maybe had another one, even. There’s still space. Some space. Wide space. Only. My vision blurs. The errant idea reveals itself. I could eat. Too little too late I notice the murmurs had been there once more. Low and rumbling. I’m loving it.