As sick and masochistic as it is,
there is a rush in pushing your body to the limits.
There is a high in knowing
that you are defying nature
to live on this much,
to live on this little,
to be shrinking, disappearing
and to survive it.
I wanted to see how long I could go,
running on fumes.
I wanted to find the bare minimum required to subsist.
Food was a possible miscalculation of calories,
a loss of certainty about your control over chaos,
your control over yourself.
The horrible possibility that you are taking
more than you deserve.
That's where I felt in control,
I felt like I was breaking every biological,
physical chemical law possible
and that I was in control.
I was doing what seemed like it shouldn't be possible
and I was surviving it,
I wanted to find my limit,
see where my body would break.
I became very concerned with gaps,
spaces between my bones,
absent places where I was certain
there had once been flesh
but I couldn't quite remember when.
I began to measure things in abs