Fuck.
I lifted
my head from the toilet bowl and tried to take in a full breath. However, my
inhale was interrupted with yet another heave. I felt like I hadn’t breathed in
20 minutes.
Fuck.
I cursed myself, wanting nothing
more than to go back in time and change what had happened. Unfortunately, there
was no time for self-loathing as I continued to disgorge blood and body fluids.
Fuck.
Why
didn’t I eat? Oh that’s right. Because I’m on way too many drugs and forgot
what it was like to have an appetite. How long has it been since I’ve stomached
anything? Thursday morning? It’s Saturday night.
Fuck.
What
is wrong with me? I promised myself that I was over this way of life. This
behavior of doing too much, too fast, for too long. I was doing so well. I was
finally content. Of course, that’s never enough. I’m just a wretched piece of shit
that will always fall back into her old habits. Why does everyone have to be
right about me every time?
Fuck.
I slowly lifted my head once more,
this time without a wave of nausea.
Get to Chad.
I
uncrossed my legs, twisting onto my knees and elbows. I maneuvered as quickly
as I could but slowly enough to avoid the desire to hurl again. With the world
spinning and contorting around me I army crawled out of my bathroom door taking
a hard left to face the front door of my apartment. I sprawled out on my stomach
in the hallway, arms reaching over my head, legs extended uselessly. I have no
idea how long I stayed there. It felt nice - to not feel at all.
That’s how you got yourself into this mess, you
stupid bitch! You’re too afraid to feel. Eventually, I remembered my
goal. Get to Chad. I hoisted myself
off the floor as much as possible. I turned my head and caught a glimpse of
myself in the full length mirror to my left. You look like shit.
Okay, dummy. Do the math. You live in room 379.
Chad lives across the hall and 3 doors to the right. Is that correct? Damn you.
Maybe if you weren’t such an inebriated fool you would be able to remember his
room number.
Whatever. I’ll wing it.
I
reached for the door handle, which seemed to be miles above me. My fingertips
landed on the top and I pulled down, but it didn’t budge. My arm collapsed at
my side again.
Why the hell would I bother locking the
deadbolt?
I
stretched again and successfully twisted the lock to the right.
So close. Just get the freaking door open for
god sakes!
I
attempted one last time to pluck myself from the floor. I was almost up when…
Fuck me.
The wave
of nausea hit again, but I didn’t throw up. The whole world was fading. It was
almost as if I was falling away from reality. I’d been fighting so hard to
survive this hell I’d established for myself yet I found myself craving the
end. I sighed and crumpled to the ground, accepting my fate.
It’s so much better to not feel at all.
Thanks for reading! If you want to hear about how I got to this point in my life, please follow and stay tuned for my next post!
