Stuffed

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: House Of Ten Thousand Exotic Rooms
An Excerpt from Failure

Submitted: October 07, 2018

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Submitted: October 07, 2018

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I twisted a slice of pizza into my mouth, chow down on a monstrous bite. 

I swallow, and it hurt.

It hurt bad. 

What kind of pizza did I order? 

Vegetarian.

Lots of vegetables. 

I thought that if I was going to absorb anything, hopefully nutrients the in the vegetables. 

Wishful thinking, right? 

I stuffed the rest of the slice down my throat, chew twice then swallow. 

Another painful cringe down my throat.

Soda. 

A lot of it. The worst- but my favorite, Mountain Dew. 

Diet for sympathies. 

Half a two liter gone already, another slice of pizza. 

I'm starved. 

So hungry. 

But then I'm not. 

Another slice. 

It was so painful to swallow, I was eating too fast but I couldn't stop. 

I wish I would. 

But I can't. 

And then I don't want to. 

My right hand reached for something softer, bouncier, less dense. 

I don't pay attention to half the shit I buy from the grocery store, until I do pay attention. 

I’d randomly grabbed Strawberry rolls from the endless collection of engorged high fructose corn syrup, pancreas killing snacks.

 Four are down my throat before I can even taste them. 

Not that I'd want to, they're gross. 

I gulp more Mountain Dew. 

It's called floating, makes it easier coming up. 

I wonder how much I've eaten so far. 

How many particles of energy. 

If only I could keep them. 

I'm always tired. 

Being a facade is tiring. 

Another slice of pizza. 

I can't taste it. 

I was glad at least that there wasn't any meat because I don't want painful indigestion. 

A joke I'd laugh at if I wasn't inhaling zebra cakes. 

The entire box was  gone and I don't waste time starting on another. 

How many of these can I eat? 

I bite my hand. 

My entire body cramped painfully. 

It's too much. 

But I'm so hungry. 

When I finish the pizza I won't be hungry anymore. 

When I finish the pizza I won't be hungry anymore. 

I gag briefly as I push another slice down my throat. 

Only two more slices and I'll be done. 

Then I'll clean up, feel better. 

I hated it, this pizza. 

Maybe next time I'll  just stick to the cakes, since they're so soft. 

I was so full. 

I could taste the cheese on this one. 

The greasy, softness turned my mood sour. 

I can't do it. 

My stomach curled instinctively. 

I startle Kitts who bounds out of the room with how fast I break into the bathroom. 

My knees hurt from hitting the tile floor.

My eyes blur tears. 

My heart skittered in my chest as this gut wrenching clench quickly unfurls. Everything I'd just eaten expels itself as ungracefully as I'd pigged it down. 

I used to have to actually force myself. 

To hold my hand down my throat. 

But with how fit and flexible I am, and with how long I've been doing this, a simple maneuver relives food from my stomach. 

The marshmallow cakes were soft, but stifling coming up. 

I hope I don't choke. 

How embarrassing to be found dead like this. 

The pizza and the soda, though. 

They burn. 

Improperly masticated, hardly digested and fuming with stomach acid, I say hello to my food again in the toilet. 

Disgusted, the smell putrid, I do it again, and again, until my stomach burns from the cramping sensation, until it's complete, until I'm emptied. 

Disgusted, I flush once, twice, three times. 

My teeth are brushed. 

The bathroom sprayed. 

I open the window and see the sun.

I hate this, I hate this more than I should.


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