Empty

First, water came out. I'd sit down on the toilet and try to defecate, but only water came out. I went out and sat on the lawn.

The weather had started to turn and low clouds brought a chill and a breeze. Everything was grey. There was a tree in the yard and I watched it for hours.

My stomach began to hurt. It had been not even a full day since I'd quit.

After a long time, the pain left.

It got much colder, but I still sat.

My lips had begun to crack, so I went back inside for water. I hadn't realized how cold I was or that I'd started shivering.

When I awoke, the pain was back, but I had quit. I no longer had to defecate, and looking in the mirror, I saw myself visibly thinner. My head hurt.

I looked at myself in the mirror, saw my sunken eyes and drawn face, my cracking lips and my scraggly hair. I did not know how long it had been-at least three weeks, it must have been. The tears running down the sides of my nose stung my lips and I was no longer able to go on, but still I persisted, lying there on the bathroom tile, holding my stomach, curled into a tight little nothing.