The nights are getting darker, in a figurative sense. I close my eyes and see things I never used to see pictures of unfamiliar people and places, playing like slideshows in my mind have now given way to early motion picture style sequences of the same. Who are these people? Why do I know them?
I hold on to most of my guilt throughout the day and it comes exploding out into my mind when the house grows silent and I close my eyes, I come up with imaginative ways in which to punish myself and prevent the infinite loop that encircles my mind, I dream of being able to cut the excessive flesh from my body with a knife, burn welts into my skin – the physical pain a punishment and the scar to serve as a reminder of the regret that always comes later, every time I open my mouth.
Like the depression that always follows the mania, food and guilt are entwined together and always will be, but there is no chemical compound to silence that incessant voice that chastises every worthless move you make. When it comes down to it I lie awake on these dark nights pondering, imagining and yet I always come to the same and correct conclusion; that there is always only one way to permanently end this cycle.