I know this place

This is long
And Graphic.
And something I needed to get out of my body in a different way.
And so, if you care to not know me like this.
Skip it.

I had cried about my day for a few hours.
The pain of the morning.
Hurt of not understanding.
And feeling like I failed boiled.
And churned in me.

I had been thinking about it all day.
And the screaming match that ensued when I got home only stirred the pot.

As I twisted the lock on the bathroom door.
Turned slowly the shower handle.
I heard the faint sound of water beginning to spray from the shower head.
Which eventually mixed with the bathroom fan.
And the sink H valve that I had on high.
And in a few moments they combined to create the white noise I need to be bulemic.

I drank two warm cups of water quickly.
And stared at my reflection in the mirror.

"You're disgusting."
"Everyone hates you."
"You are SO wrong."
Little self locked herself away.
Maybe I hid her.
Spared her from witnessing this.
From the noise of adults selves who know they are right.
And I tried desperately to think of the nice things people had said throughout the day.
To shed some light on the caverns Little Self had run to.
Come back.
Be strong.
"Not EVERYONE hates you."
And then suddenly, and all at once.

The world would be better witihout you.
The world would be better without you.
The world would be better without you..

Plays unstopped
I am disgusting.
And it's true, ever so true in the moment that a lot of things including this world would be better without me.

It's then that the epic things that made up the last six months fade away and my desire for the feeling of a purge.
For the control that purging myself of all the ugly would provide.
The quick fix of not killing myself.
Which seems too extreme.
Just purging myself of these feelings.
Would bring.

Getting rid of it all.
Unfortunately, fortunately?
I'm pretty transparent about this with everyone in my life.

So it's about this moment.
Or the one where I'm staring down.
At my two feet, almost eye level with the porcelain on the throne.

That I hear him.
At the door.
For a moment.
Tears welling.
Food churning.

"Hey," he says finally through a mumble of white noise.

"Hey, I'm fine," comes out before I can even consider telling him otherwise.

There is this lapse in time.
When I think he's going.
And I breathe a little deeper.
Ready to release.
To grab the high of slowly killing myself.

And in that second.
I hear it.
The faint click of the door being unlocked by that blasted tiny whole.
That insignificant can't stop me whole.
"Hey," he repeats as the door swings open.

And I melt again.
To the floor.
Resting my forehead on the rim of the throne.
And spraying tears from the eyes.

"I'm sorry," he utters so softly I'm not sure I actually heard him.
Tears spraying, I don't stop to figure out if I did.

He squats down.
I hate the word squat.
And puts his hand on my back.
I inch away.
"Hey," he repeats.
Pulling me back.

"Just," ::spray:: "Let," ::spray::

"I'm going to.  But I'm not going."
I push as hard as I can, but I'm back in the corner.
The urge is dissipating, since I won't be able to while he's here.

"You're not going to leave me, are you?"
"Who's asking?"
"Little self?  I'll be right here."
Melt into him.
Lay on the cold tile of the bathroom floor.

The purge is coming out in saline.
And I feel its cool release.

I'm not exactly sure when he stood.
My eyes were squeezed tight as the tears welled.
Or when the white noise of the sink and shower and fan dissipated, but they did.

And in a few minutes, I was asleep on the tile bathroom floor.
I awoke 20 minutes later.
WIth his hand on my back.
And the first sight as I blinked my salt crusted eyes open was his crossed arched legs.
Beside me.

"It's not just a yoga ball," I say through a gritty cried out voice.
"It never is, is it?" he chuckles.

"No," I respond, "It never is."
"You need sleep.  A lot of sleep.  You not on sleep...is this."
I yawn and lean into him.

4 months binge/purge free will not be ruined by a yoga ball.
And me wanting to give everything until there is nothing left.
I can make it.


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