Youthful Spirits

1 finger, 2 fingers, 3 fingers slowly fit inside me. Not in my pussy but down my throat. My nose starts dripping and my eyes water

but nothing comes out of my mouth.

I spit and try again, harder and faster.

It’s painful, but worth it,

if for a second, I don’t feel the weight of food in my belly.

Or to finally feel like I’m doing right to make myself skinnier tomorrow.

God, I need help, I think to myself.

But needing it and getting it are two very different things.

No one tells you how addictive and needy eating disorders are

Besides, it’s not really an eating disorder if I never actually throw up right?

I look down at my toothbrush,

which I’ve used to replace my hand, hoping for better results.

Dotted with blood, bristles coated with salvia, but not even a hint of vomit.

I know what I’m doing is wrong,

but there is an even thicker sense of guilt

washing over me.

Because I can’t even accomplish this one fucking thing.

My chest hurts and it’s not just from everything I pushed down my throat tonight with the hopes of something coming up.