Its only a slight irritation at first, filling a normally empty void with malcontent, but eventually it grows into full fledged famine impossible to satiate, as I have failed so far to identify source of contention.
Across the table my sister hesitantly examines each bite before agreeing to swallow, weighing guilt over pleasure control over desire mirroring my own thoughts exactly.
I understand this fully.
It is a game about pushing the limits of control I suppose. Because 12 pounds worked out ok and it might be fun to see just how tight I can stretch my skin over my body before someone labels me and ruins all my fun.
But it is hard to look cute when you are starving yourself to death and vanity wins out over entertainment... at least for us.
Destruction is just another form of creation and I like to play.
It is black or white, all or nothing, and we swallow plenty already; our thoughts, love, expression, anger, desire, longing, happiness, freedom, guilt, pain, bodily fluids, one drink after another and anything offered in between.
And I am still hungry.