Gluttony​

Warning: contains eating disorder content

The monster is gone.

It feels like there is a balloon inside my stomach. I lie on the kitchen floor, waiting for it to burst.

It hurts to move, it hurts to stay still, it hurts when I get up on all-fours.

I look around.

Empty packets lay on the floor with me, half finished tubs waiting for me to take more, but I will not. I will not because now, I am smart. I have self-control. Now, I am me. The monster is gone.

Breathing hurts, I know it did this on purpose. I can't get up, I can't move any more. I just stay here in defeat.

I think about how much food it made me eat. How many hours of jogging it will take to feel clean and pure again.

When did this monster decide that I deserved all of this food? All it does is take. It takes things that I don't want, that I don't need. Things that my parents have paid for. Things that I must replace.

I don't want to get up. I don't want to pick up the empty packets of the food that this ravenous monster made me devour. I don't want to buy new food so that my parents don't find out, it will probably just make me eat it all over again. I don't want to try again. I don't want to get so close to perfect and throw it all away one more time.

But there is no alternative, of course other than becoming even more enormous than I already am.