Second Post

What a binge is.
I'm hungry, hungry. Ravenous. I need food. Need food, now. Right now. Immediately. I must wait. There's people home. Once they leave. I'll be free. I'll eat. Finally. They're gone. To the kitchen. I run. Food. There's ice cream. I grab a spoon and eat it out of the tub. I eat more, more, more. It's empty. Dripping down my chin. I'm still hungry. I look through the cupboards. A tin of chilli. I microwave it and eat cookies as I wait. I don't taste, I just eat. I eat the chilli. It's supposed to serve five. That's not what matters. I eat it anyway. Kraft dinner. I eat that too. Then I spoon jam out of the jar. Olives. Pickles. Lunch meat. Anything, everything. It cures my aching soul. I need it. I need it more than I need air. I need it, now. Food. Leftovers, lasagne. I eat it all. All of it. More. Still hungry. Chips. Food. More. As I'm eating peanut butter in delicious, goopy spoonfuls out of the jar, I walk to the computer. Turn on music. Eat to the music. Eat more. Running low on food. Low on food. More. More. More. More. Brown sugar out of the bag. Yes. Eat that. Choke on it. Too dry. Chug water. More. Chug two. Stomach packed tight. Need more. More. Eat as much as I can. What time is it? An hour already? I fall to my knees. Packed tight with food. I can't walk. I crawl upstairs. My stomach hurts so so bad. I reach up momentarily and grab my toothbrush. Down my throat it goes. The food comes up. Hungry. But better. More of it comes. Chunky and wet. There's something red...is it blood? Difficult and painful. Next time I'll know better not to eat the chips and peanut butter. I say that every time. I vomit until I see bile. Then I'm done. I go to the sink. Rinse off. Flush toilet. Go downstairs. Clean kitchen. Moms home. "What did you do when I was gone?" I smile. "Watch TV."
Based off my experiences....
-Ren