and thus we go in cycles, spiraling outwards or spiraling
inwards, and i'm not sure we get to choose.
i am back in january, i am back to massive cupcake batter binges, leaping about the house
in a manic frenzy, eating and puking and baking and laughing at myself.
i am back to having fun with bingeing, forgetting what it's
really about, not looking for the deeper meaning. not enjoying the food so much
as the sheer depravity of it all.
i am back to the complete confusion and strange awkward despair
that comes with not knowing. someday i will tell you what it is i don't know.
is it a bad thing? je ne sais pas. sometimes we take ourselves
too seriously. i still have a cabinet full of 10 cupcakes and i plan to eat
them all today. i am not sure this will not kill me. but i'm not sure it won't,
either. it will be another beautiful depraved act that will distract me from
what's really going on, and that's all eating disorders are, anyway. i have
heard of girls with EDs who smile and say they're happy skinny, they like it
this way, they don't want to change a thing, and they are full of lies.
we are all full of lies.
and my cat who eats bread also is a cupcake thief. i guess i
can't blame him.
[photos removed]
not that i haven't licked frosting off the floor myself.
depravity has a strange dignity all its own. in Paris this winter i threw up 7
euros' worth of chocolate mousse in the Louvre, after a frenzied 15-minute
search for the loo through ancient Greek and Roman sculpture. i did not even
care who heard me retching there over the flushing of the toilet. it was my own
twisted way of conquering that museum, that monstrosity.
that's right, bitches. i threw up in the Louvre. and how can i
respond to that with anything but a mingled sense of pride?
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