Bold. 2.0

My stomach lurches and I throw up macaroni and cheese. I throw up carrots and peas. I throw up milk and cereal, and I drop to my knees. I throw up again and again. I throw up so much that I feel like I’m being punched in the stomach over and over; throwing up is like being in the worst fist fight with yourself – no one wins. Tonight has been one of the worst experiments of my life. Everyone kept saying how fun this would be, but I’m not having any fun. I’ve had my head dangling over this damn toilet for hours. I’ve already thrown up six or seven times, and it keeps getting worse with every passing spasm. My arms are shaking. My fingers are cold. I can feel my hair stuck to my forehead from my vomit induced sweating. This damn bathroom is too hot.

The last spasm passes, and I rub the mucus and regurgitated food off my chin with my shirt. I stopped worrying about getting puke on it after I spewed pork and gravy during my second series of convulsions. I love this shirt; orange has always been my favorite color. It’s a bold color that mixes well with other bold colors. My first girlfriend knew I loved orange, and she gave me this shirt as a gift. It was the first time anyone had done anything nice for me. Most of the people in my life just passed me by. I really miss that girl. I think about her a lot. I scared her away with the same bad habits that scared every other one away. Normal individuals show love and affection for the people they care about. Normal individuals also do not spend the night spewing out the contents of their stomach for hours. There is no one else to blame for driving her away. It was solely my fault and I know it. Believe me, I know it. No one ever told me that being alive was this difficult. But I suppose that is just the way life goes. Everyone needs an escape sometimes.

I rub my chin and remove myself from the bile and food filled porcelain bowl. I rest my aching back against the bathtub and breath deeply. My whole body is shaking and shivering, and this bathroom is still too damn hot. I feel like I’m burning up on the inside, and I have this nagging feeling that the world is sinking around me. It’s a nuisance that needs to stop. This room also needs to stop tightening around me. It’s closing in and making it hard to breath. I feel like I’m fighting against it just for the simple act of pulling air into my lungs. It keeps tugging against me and I don’t know how much longer I can fight against it. This whole bathroom is annoying me right now. The walls are too close together. The tiles on the floor are uneven. The light on the ceiling is too bright. These damn walls are too tight. They keep sinking in on me. It’s causing my whole body to shake.

I feel my stomach cringe again and I make no move toward the toilet. My body is exhausted. I can barely lift my hands off the ground. I look down at my shirt. It’s covered in stomach fluid and food chunks. I can feel the warmth of it soaking through the fabric. I really do love the color orange. It always makes me feel warm and comfortable. I wish this bathroom was more orange. Maybe then I would be having a better time. Maybe then I would have a better life. Or, maybe then I would not be doing this to myself every weekend. It started out as a learning experience and now I have no idea what you would call it.

One last violent spasm and it all comes up. It comes up all over my chin and my shirt. I have no energy left to clean myself off. The sink feels like a lifetime away, and the door seems even further than that. I would love to see what I look like right now. I can feel my hair in tangles, matted from leaning against this bathtub. This bathtub has been my savior. Resting against it is the greatest thing in the world. The walls keep tightening around me but this bathtub makes me forget all of that. It soothes me. It is the anchor for my sea of misbehavior. How silly it is that a bathtub is to be the hero of my night. I will never forget this fine specimen of a bathtub. None have ever shown such sympathy for me.

I suddenly feel a cool liquid forming on my top lip – it’s refreshing. I feel it creeping its way downward. It has a slow and steady pace. It starts at the nostril and works its way down to my lips and then my chin and then my neck and my chest. This is something completely new that I have never experienced before. My muscles ache as I try to reach up and touch it. It takes me a minute or so to steady my hand. The liquid is deep red – blood. There is blood running down my face. I rub my hand against my chin and it is covered in blood. I blow air out of my nostrils and my orange shirt becomes speckled with thousands of red dots. This is no simple bloody nose. This is a lot of blood.

My eyes get blurry and I feel my heart palpitate. My mouth is drier than it has ever felt before. Even my breathing feels odd. It is slow and erratic. I look over at the puke covered toilet and try to laugh. It hurts to move. I look down at my hand and I cannot see it. My eyes hurt. I look down at my orange shirt and I smile. I really do love this shirt.

Bold.

My stomach lurches and I throw up macaroni and cheese. I throw up carrots and peas. I throw up milk and cereal. I throw up again and again. I throw up so much that I feel like I am being punched in the stomach over and over. Throwing up is like being in the worst fist fight with yourself. Tonight has been one of the worst experiments of my life. Everyone kept saying how fun this would be. But I am not having any fun. I have had my head dangling over this damn toilet for what has felt like hours. I have already thrown up six or seven times. It keeps getting worse with every passing spasm. My arms are shaking. My fingers are cold. I can feel my hair stuck to my forehead from my vomit induced sweating. This damn bathroom is too hot.

The last spasm passes. I rub the mucus and regurgitated food off my chin with my shirt. I stopped worrying about getting puke on it after I blew pork and gravy all over it during my second series of convulsions. I love this shirt. Orange has always been my favorite color. It is a bold color that mixes well with other bold colors. My first girlfriend knew I loved orange. She gave me this shirt as a gift. It was the first time anyone had done anything nice for me. Most of the people in my life just passed me by. I really miss that girl. I scared her away with the same bad habits that scared every other one away. Normal individuals show love and affection for the people they care about. Normal individuals also do not spend the night spewing out the contents of their stomach for hours. There is no one else to blame for driving her away. It was solely my fault and I know it. Believe me. I know it. No one ever told me that being alive was this difficult. But I suppose that is just the way life goes. You need an escape sometimes.

I rub my chin again and remove myself from the bile and food filled porcelain bowl. I rest my aching back against the bathtub and breath deeply. My whole body is shaking and shivering. This bathroom is too hot. I feel like I am burning up from the inside. I have this nagging feeling like the world is sinking around me. It is a nuisance that needs to stop. This room also needs to stop tightening around me. It is closing in and making it hard to breath. I feel like I am fighting against the room for the simple act of pulling air into my lungs. It keeps tugging against me and I do not know how much longer I can fight against it. This whole bathroom is annoying me right now. The walls are too close together. The tiles on the floor are uneven. The light on the ceiling is too bright. These damn walls are too tight. They keep sinking in on me. It is causing my whole body to shake.

I feel my stomach cringing again and I make no move toward the toilet. My body is exhausted. I can barely lift my hands off the ground. I look down at my shirt. It is covered in stomach fluid and food chunks. I can feel the warmth of it soaking through the fabric. I really love the color orange. It always makes me feel warm and comfortable. I wish this bathroom was more orange. Maybe then I would be having a better time. Maybe then I would have a better life. Maybe then I would not be doing this to myself every weekend. It started out as a learning experience and now I have no idea what you would call it.

One last violent spasm and it all comes up. It comes up all over my chin and my shirt. I have no energy left to clean myself off. The sink feels like a lifetime away. The door seems even further than that. I would love to see what I look like right now. I can feel my hair in tangles and matted from leaning against this bathtub. This bathtub has been my savior. Resting against it is the greatest thing in the world. The walls keep tightening around me but this bathtub makes me forget all of that. It soothes me. It is the anchor for my sea of misbehavior. How silly it is that a bathtub is to be the hero of my night. I will never forget this fine specimen of a bathtub. None have ever shown such sympathy for me.

I suddenly feel a cool liquid forming on my top lip. It is refreshing. I feel it creeping its way downward. It has a slow and steady pace. It starts at the nostril and works its way down to my lips and then my chin and then my neck and my chest. This is something completely new that I have never experienced. My muscles ache as I try to reach up and touch it. It takes me a minute or so to steady my hand. The liquid is deep red. There is blood running down my face. I rub my hand against my chin and it is covered in blood. I blow air out of my nostrils and my orange shirt becomes speckled with thousands of red dots. This is no simple bloody nose. This is a lot of blood.

My eyes get blurry and I feel my heart palpitate. My mouth is drier than it has ever felt before. Even my breathing feels odd. It is slow and erratic. I look over at the puke covered toilet and try to laugh. It hurts to move. I look down at my hand and I cannot see it. My eyes hurt. I look down at my orange shirt and smile. I really do love this shirt.