I get the feeling that if someone would stretch my body until the point of ripping it, I would feel nothing. It would all be the same. And yet, I can’t stand being in it.
What does it matter if I eat a whole pack of chocolate cookies in one go? I’m going for it anyway. It’s not like I will be fatter tomorrow if I do it.
I do know I always feel terrible
(disappointed, discouraged, regretful)
after I binge eat, but I don’t want to think about that now. Right now, all I want is that quick pleasure, that sweet injection that simultaneously boosts and anesthetizes.
But just before I grab a cookie, I stop: “What if I just don’t?”
I turn around. I grab a cup of tea, I watch a film, I take a nap.
I still have the power to choose how I send myself to sleep, and I am proud.