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That heart-breaking taste.

by Jess

I was sick today

in my room

in a bag

on the floor

on my own

with tears streaming down my face

in silence

and you didn't know

because it happened so fast

beyond my control

and you will never find out

because i will never tell you

and you will believe i'm ok

and that i'm happy

and strong

when actually i'm dead inside

and all i want to do is hide

not from you

but from myself

because i hate it.

Its like a bleeding tumour in my heart

poisoning my cells and my thoughts..

Plaguing my being.

Ruining my life.

I'm so screwed up, i know.

I can hear you thinking it.

but imagine feeling it..

imagining being there

watching yourself do something so strange.

so.. utterly strange.

You're out

having fun,

living your lives,

achieving your dreams..

and i'm at home.

being sick in a bag.

so many times.

too many times..

because i'm sick of this..

i don't wish to be famous

or rich

or successful.

I wish to see my friends

to eat normally

to go outside.

I wish for everything that you take for granted.


i want to taste the sweet freedom i once had

instead of bile

in my mouth, my throat, my nose

every day..

that taste.

That heart-breaking taste

of my regurgitated emotions

sitting in a bag


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Article by Shaye Boddington
Author of
and creator of The Bulimia Recovery Program and Community

The Bulimia Recovery Program