Something must be done. I must find the puzzle piece to full my emptiness. 

The sound of my mouth quickly eating echoing through my ears. The weight being realised from my shoulders. At last.

Peace.

Hold on. STOP STOP. Why can’t I stop?

My appetite is gone but my pain lingers. As I re-gain awareness I am surrounded by an endless pile of wrappers. Each one symbolising my failure. My lack of self composure. My lack of dignity. My lack of control. Stomach being wrapped in the tightness of guilt. 

I look in the mirror. What a silly mistake. Yet again I am reminded by the existence of my flawed form. My form which will now be stained from my wrong doings. I must fix this.

I must burn away my actions. Days on my stomach communicates it’s hunger. I do not listen. I know what has to be done. Beauty is pain. Apart from I do not gain beauty from any corner of this experience. I only gain control.