Sick

So I've just got back from "dinner" at the caf--friends noticed I've been ducking invites so I thought it best to go along. Luckily everyone agreed it was shite so I didn't have to worry too much. I got a salad. Had some cucumber. Picked at my salad. Had some chicken on top of the salad. Picked at that. Spooned myself a bowl of lo-cal soup. Picked. Threw all the chicken into the soup, along with the fat free dressing and some olives from my salad so I wouldn't be tempted to finish it. Had a couple of bites of cheese. A cookie and a half.

Sat like a zombie, petrified, lacking. Staring, fingers digging into the flesh of my arm, right hand poised with a fork defensively in front of my mouth, lest anything try to get in there.

I had maybe ten bites of food plus the cookie.

Walked home. My brain was blank. I literally barely remember even making the trek home.
Walked past my bathroom and my stomach moved. Or something.
I looked at the toilet and something in me just caved and I calmly set down my things and organized them, flipped off the lights to my room, rolled up my sweatshirt sleeves, and shoved my fingers repeatedly down my throat, tickling it just right until I heaved enough that I emptied myself of what little I consumed. Washed my hands, wiped my eyes, and did it again.

Stood back up, rinsed my mouth out, stared at my puffy, pink face in the mirror.
Shame.

Scrubbed my hands.

Gathered my things.

I'm at work.

And nobody knows the hell I'm in. How? How is it that nobody can see this demon on my back? Isn't it glaringly obvious? I hate it.

I can feel myself losing. Try as I might to convince myself I don't really have an ED, I'm just on a crash diet, just getting thinner...I know it isn't true.

I just want one day of normalcy.