please don't strip my mind.

more red hot chili peppers and john frusciante. its really all that's been coming out of my speakers lately.

mom and i had a brief talk today. she was getting ready for work, and came in to ask about my dishes. i had a sandwich in my hand.

"can i ask you a question?" the pause was just a breath, i didn't have the time to answer. she continued, "how's your eating?"

"erratic."

"are you purging?"

"yup." it came out of my mouth like a challenge. something foul and angry, like my eating disorder itself said it and was daring my poor, sweet mother to do something about it.

"do you still want to go to treatment?"

"no." this came out like a scoff. pfft. recovery? i laugh at the very idea.

"come to me when you're ready." she said, and wiped at her eyes. i could feel the weight of her words. they chained my eyes down to the floor, where i couldn't meet hers.

"okay."

"i don't want you to suffer like i did these past twenty-something years," she said.

i feel like the worst son ever.

i used to be scared. really scared of purging everything i eat. but now the torture is welcome. let the acid shred my throat and mouth. let my sharp finger nails slice the soft pink flesh. let everything pour out of me and spin away, miles and miles underground. i don't want anything inside.