|I was actually in like, and someone liked me in return. What a feeling! I met him volunteering at Jean Dean RIF, reading is fundamental that is. I donít know why I felt the need to volunteer, I guess I just enjoyed it. At the RIF there was always work to do. One could put labels in the front cover of books or sort the hundreds of them into the towering shelves. I was book labeling the day he walked into the door and into my life. His steps I could hear clicking on the concrete floor of the dusty warehouse as he entered on the other side of the huge room. I acted as though I didnít notice his glances. I felt his presence, his aura. He owned the room. I leaned further over the table. His eyes burned my right side. This is Colin. It was a blur ever since. I was on the phone with him every night. I refused to admit I liked him. It was a game, reallyÖto keep him holding on. You like me, donít you? he would ask. No, I would insist, laying in my walk-in closet on my stomach, the stomach which contained butterflies so big they felt like some sort of big ass amazon bird of wonder. My stomach always felt like this when I talked to him. It turned circles, especially when he said ĎI like you, Brandon.í I was at Amsterdam Cafťí on a mid 70ís day in May with my parents. I felt sick. I checked a text message from Colin under the table, out of the sight of my parents. They would never know about him. He was MY secret. That was when I guess I had control of my life. But this was all so new. I was out of control. I ordered a black and bleu burger, which was a fancy name for an American classic cheeseburger and fries. The waiter brought my order. It lay in front of me. I saw not lettuce, cheese, and fries but fats, calories, then Colin. I sipped my water and gulped down the vomit taste in my mouth. I put the phone back in my pocket and refused to answer any more texts until after lunch. Colin made me so nervous. I was shaking. I didnít know why. I didnít know why my cheeseburger grew bigger and bigger either. But it seemed to. I picked up the lump and took a bite. I forced a swallow. I have to eat I thought. Iím not even hungry. I forced another bite down along with the stomach acid and first bite that had started to come up. I guess Iím just not that hungry I told my parents. You need to eat they would say. I couldnít. I went home and threw up the lunch I had eaten. I felt good enough for him again. I had started guitar lessons. Hey, guitar was pretty hott. After guitar lessons, I would leave for summer swing at Municipal Park. Summer swing starts at seven every Tuesday of the summer at the local park. I had only one reason to goÖColin. I could not stop thinking about him, which became obvious as I began to drop a few pounds. He told me I needed to eat, and I wanted to, I did. I just couldnít. Seeing him at the park didnít help. When I knew I was going to see him, I couldnít eat all day. What I did eat I would just throw up. Weight became my obsession with the progression of the summer. I left summer swing one night when my parents picked me up a little earlier than usual. You have to eat, they said. I canít. If you donít eat you die----if you donít eatÖyou die. My guy was killing me slowly. My parents told me on this same car ride that if I didnít start eating they were going to get me help. I had to get over it and eat. I arrived at home. My parents both sat and watched me before I could go to my room. I ate and quickly left, waited fifteen minutes and convinced myself I had to go to the bathroom; my subconscious knew why I was there. I looked in the mirror while standing in front of the toilet. I lifted up my shirt and gagged. I knew I could see every last bite of macaroni and cheese that had been fore fed down my tightened esophagus a quarter of an hour earlier. My finger plunged down my throat. A gag! I had to go again. Farther this time, deeper this time. I had to cleanse my body from all the shit I had eaten. Every last carbohydrate that oozed from the yellow elbow noodles. Every calorie. Every fat came to mind. It had to be gone. I gagged again. My eyes were now filled with water. My finger was covered. I flushed. Mother fucker. Why was I doing this? Colin meant everything to me. He made me feel a new world, something that I had never experienced before. I saw Colin as perfect. All I wanted was to be perfection for him. I washed my hands and face, closed the bathroom door, and called him.
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