Author Archives: Daniel L. Williams


My First Eating Disorder

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Portrait

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Pleasant Stare Duet

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Sweet Treatz

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Mii M@ny Mo0dz

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I sat in the room alone that I had been sharing for a while with the others. I was sort of a part of the group, but it felt like I wasn’t. It had their things in it, their smells and marks and wrinkles made by their bodies. It felt like I sort of floated on all the surfaces, not marring them in any way. I looked out the window from where I was perched on top of the floor high up. There was just a long wall and a long black void down at the bottom. I blinked my eyes and it all sort of changed. The red lights far off beckoned me. It sort of made sense in some way… I had been there before. I don’t remember much, though.

I was awake in the crowd of people again. All these people I didn’t know or had some vague likeness to, but was only there on that basis. Some dumb sort of shitty secret club. The lights were all red and anonymous. I felt absorbed but alone. On the top, but in the middle and towards the bottom. Several people looked at me and I lolled my head in the corner towards the red light above me. I felt like I was sort of pushing myself into their presence, but in fact I was just sitting in a corner, exposing my neck in some sort of primal yet completely negligible display of vulnerability. I tried relaxing myself. It was small steps in the right or wrong direction, however you look at it.

It was almost always night while I was there. So many people passed by me, looking at each other, occasionally at me. I felt someone behind me and I liked the sort of interaction. We talked for a while. The red lights were replaced by smoke and a new place I hadn’t lolled around in yet. All of a sudden details popped open and revealed themselves like infected wounds still shining out glistening pus. It wasn’t what I thought it would be, this sort of sick probe. The rancid filth got into me and I sort of subdued myself to let it work. So quickly did it enter that the connection was broken and left no trace. Had it ever really happened? I was back in the red lights again, the same faces. I felt miserable.

It happened again. We kept seeing each other, then leaving in different directions. The chorus behind me and in my head cheered me on toward the hairy desire. I tried to catch that same sort of fragrant sick gristled cord into my mind’s mouth. It worked for a second, then gone. Then gone again. I hated it, but I kept reaching for it. Looking back, I feel I lost control of myself. It sweltered inside the next room I was in. Nothing made sense but some sort of vague ghost in the chemicals in my head causing what it was. My original self I left behind deliberated thinking of it that way, but I wasn’t really listening. I just sort of jumped in. All the pus and gore swelled up around me and closed in, throbbing up around my face and pressed hotly in my eyes. I was sweating so bad… I felt so sick and hot. What was I doing? What’s it like? I felt so silly, so daft and lost. I closed my eyes and just pretended to be somewhere else until it was over.

Nothing carried over from that night but just small memories. I sort of realize now I’m part of some great shadowy collective that only remembers to themselves what had happened in the past during those cycles. It’s prolly really just some sort of cyclic occurrence. I don’t care… I’m just so sure I’ll end up in that same sweltering room, but on the other side. The possibilities of ending it occur in my head, but then it’s just sort of silly. Like some sort of shitty alternative rock song. I say let it go on. I’m not gonna be a fag about it.

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Tween Party


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