It's a prison. It's a horrible state where hunger begets hunger begets insanity begets self-destruction begets emptiness. And the emptiness becomes a void impossible to fill. Feelings consume and food becomes salvation. Eat away the tears. Eat away the loneliness. Eat away the pain. Eat away the self-doubt...the self-hate. Eat away the bitter truth. Eat away the past, the present, and the future.
Gorge until you're full. Gorge until your soul no longer bleeds.
Eat till you vomit.
It's hell. A place where faces spread and bulge and distort into something macabre. Your features get lost in the mess. Eyes too small to hold outsiders' attention, so they turn inward. Thick lips become traitors to the eyes as they wrap around each morsel. No one really sees you anymore. They see only the gelatinous ooze that you've become. Ankles with rolls that bunch and fall over bulbous feet. Shoes don't fit. So why wear them?
Skin hangs in long lumps of yellowish brown chicken gel. It bulges then droops. It twists. It shakes as you laugh. It shakes as you cry--like a bowl full of jelly. But you're no beloved old man in a red suit delivering toys to good little boys and girls. You're just you. Just invisible--yet gawked at--sad, not so little you. You're just fat.
You sit because standing hurts. You sit because walking steals your air. Life is a sweet grape to be plucked from the vine and savored--but you lost the truth of that somewhere along the way. You've become a monster in human form. A fucking joke--only no one's laughing. So you sit and you eat. You sit and you eat and you wait. You wait for death. You wait for the crane to knock down the wall. You wait for the news reporter to say what a beautiful soul was trapped in a freak-show form. You wait for your mother to sob, for your neighbors to say, "She was the kindest creature I've ever known."
It wasn't always this way. Once, many moons ago, you'd been a knobby kneed little thing with teeth too big for your smile. You ran and played and threw your arms wide and danced under swaying tree tops. You giggled and rolled down the hill. You raced the boys on your bike. You were sassy and fun and utterly brilliant. Once upon a time you shone like the sun.
A tear streams down your anonymous face. Vacant eyes stare vacantly into nothingness. You raise the turkey sandwich to numb lips. You can't taste anything. The colors have drained from your world and become a gray monotony that looms like storm clouds all around you. Love and lust and sex are fairy stories you read about in Harlequin. Chew, chew, swallow. Food isn't the enemy. You are. You've done this to yourself.
It's a prison. Yet they call it my body.
* I guess I had one more flash in me. I'm trying to lose weight. Guess I had something to say about it.