Purge

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I weakly struggle against the urge. Screaming at me to run into the bathroom toward the porcelain bowl. I'm torn between the feelings I know I will feel once the deed was done. I would feel relief that the badness inside of me will be purged out of my body; tipping the scales back to good. The beast would be content with the balance and it would rest until it is once again provoked.
However, I would feel guilty and disappointed at the loss of control that drove me to my knees with my head stuck in the toilet bowl retching as repentance. I can feel my stomach swirling with the dirty feelings of anxiety, regret, and disgust.

I can't resist the urge any longer.

I run to the my sanctuary and prepare myself for the act. Guzzling gallons of water until my stomach aches and I can feel the badness crawling up my throat. Quickly falling to my knees in front of the toilet I let all my thoughts and worries flush out of my mind with my weakness spewing out of my mouth into their rightful place. I keep retching until my body ran out of energy to do so on its own. During this brief respite, I shove my fingers down my throat in short stabbing motions and keep them in place once I feel the first contraction of my stomach. The purge continues. After I am done worshipping the porcelain bowl I am consumed with mixed feelings clashing within my empty stomach. The relief is overwhelming until I look in the mirror and remember that the purge wouldn't have been necessary if I only had more self control. I loathe myself so deeply when that thought comes to frutation in the forefront of my mind; taunting my efforts relentlessly. Ultimately, I come out of the bathroom with my shoulders slumped, dejected and defeated.

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