"I fell into a ring of fire.
I went down, down, down, and the flames got higher.
And it burns, burns burns."

Johnny Cash wrote the "Ring of Fire," about falling into a bad relationship, love burning but he kept falling.

My ring of fire doesn't include any love, no.
No love, I don't fall in love, I don't fall into love's arms.
But I am perfectly obedient and willing when it has to do with vomiting, stuffing myself, or starving.

I can't stop falling. I am falling and even though the flames and caotic mess it causes is hopeless and pathetic, I can't stop, I need it, I crave it, it is my secure place, it is the only way that everything makes sense and flows correctly. Everything beyond the world of food of course.

When I eat, and I keep it. I feel:
-Messy
-FAT
-Weak (psychologically, not physically)
-Needy
-Disgusting
-Stupid

When I starve/purge I feel:
-Pure
-Strong (psychologically again..)
-Clear-Minded
-Safe
-Euphoric

I feel empowered with my abilities to starve, I feel disgusted when I eat. I feel even more disgusted when I binge, that is why my hands are swelled up and my knuckles are covered in Russell's Sign, and my face looks like a fat, weak, pathetic bullfrog. 

I am a fucking pig. Everytime I allow food past my lips I am a god-damned, smelly, swollen, messy, needy pig. PIG! PIG! PIG! PIG! PIG! PIG! PIG! 


I am desperate to find a land where I can eat like a normal person, a healthy person, and still feel all of what I listed under "Starve/Purge."

I want to be able to eat some sort of carb, even though I pick at it and only eat the crust, hiding the rest or flicking it under the table without having to go home and run 3.6 miles. Despite the gnawing pains in my stomach and abdominals from the tearing effects after my days and days of purging. Ignoring the sharp twist in my chest, and the fact that I have to tell each leg to move even though I can hardly identify that they are really there because I feel like I am floating.

I want to be able to sit to eat a meal and not instantly after the first bite of usually something green and crunchy think: SHIT, food! And think, that if it's going to come back up anyways why not eat everything I can get my hands on... afterall that 3.6 mile run really really left me hungry. I eat and eat, and eat... and eat.. I take food into the upstairs bathroom with me... I pull open the drawer to get out my secret giant cup and box of baking soda. I turn the shower on, the fan on, I close the door... Look in the mirror briefly, at my distended stomach, my disgusting tits above it.. lumps of disgusting fat, showing that I am a needy pig woman, and my ass.. it can giggle. I feel hopeless and disgusted, I felt so thin before I binged, before I ate anything. I felt empowered. Now, now I felt as if I had grown into a massive hog with no self-control whatsoever.

So, for the third time that day, I fill my cup with my concoction, drink the whole first cup, and slide my fingers deep down my throat, I have to go deeper every month it seems.. And I feel empowered when I get that first large spurt of filth that comes flowing up from my stomach, through my mouth, over my fingers and makes that loud splashing sound into the toilet where it belongs.

I still am fat, so I go and go.. despite the burning and tingling in my throat, the pain from the sores on my lips, the pain in my hand as it scrapes, back, forth, back.. against my translucent acid stricken teeth.

I go and drink more so I can flush more out. I go until it hurts too much to bear, until I see black and red spots, my face feels like it's going to explode right off my shoulders that I hate seeing. I imagine that if my head exploded, there would be yellow lard from my face all over the place. Everyone would see what I had been doing and think of how needy, disgusting, and vain I was. I am not vain, I hate myself , I am my worst enemy, I am constantly fighting the existence of my body.

When I am finally done, I see that I am obviously not quite as fat as I was before, I am swollen, everything hurts.. everything is disgusting...
I turn and see the battlefield and the mess it has left. My disgust is everywhere. So I start to clean up after the pig.