Amnesia

Can you describe what it's like to break your arm? Falling down a flight of stairs? Which is worse: slamming your hand in a door, or stubbing your toe on a piece of heavy furniture at full speed?

Our mind knows what pain is. But it forgets the intensity of pain. I can't really describe to you what my last tattoo was like or accurately compare it to spraining my ankle when I was 13. The brain quietly helps us forget these things. Quite lovely. Helps us heal. Keeps us going outside the door without worrying that the sky may fall.

It also makes us forget how bad binges are.

I thought I've been binging. Today, in the back of my mind, a little voice whispered, "You stupid idiot, you've been so spoiled these past few months complaining about nothing. This is what real pain feels like..."

I remembered why I binge... to feel something other than sadness or worse, complete emptiness. Focus a rush of senses and emotion on something else for a few brief moments. Believe I'm alive. Grieve over, and regret my mistake for the rest of the day. Knowing, knowing I've fucked up and might as well keep going and fill the bottomless pit inside me until the clock strikes midnight, when I have to face reality again.

I hate to binge. But I can't believe it's been so long. I missed you.

---

Ranch dressing is brown. I had to twist a lot of logic, but there's oil in it. Oil is definitely brown. I haven't had that hateful food in as long as I can remember. It's banished. (This indicates I should only drink green tea... I'll mull that one over)