Now that I find myself doing the whole flashback to my past thing…

She hangs her pretty head over a shiny white toilet, and thinks in her head, why am I doing this?
It’s not disgusting, she vomits glamour, she vomits beauty, she vomits perfection.

When her whole life has gone of of control and she has no one the first place she can collect her broken pieces is the bathroom.

That bathroom has secrets the world would wince and grimace at. The blood stains in the grout between the tile have a story of their own. But the toilet has fallen in love with her face and refuses to let her go. She is addicted and the response and admiring she receives is too much to give up.

When her friend admits to bolemia she hides hers and instead helps her friend out. Her friend is rushed to the hospital on account of an ulcer.

A year, a year was how long the relationship with me and the toilet lasted. What I have to show for? A gain of 60 pounds and Prilosec OTC for life.

Was it worth the tears and pain. NO