This is simply my musings, a bit exaggerated, with an underlying of truth.
If it offends you, I'm sorry.

My gut burns with that familiar lead weight. Shifting slightly, a dull pain flairs up, clamping my heart in its clutches.

'Shallow breathes you idiot, shallow breathes: seriously, you should be used to this by now. Get a grip Dana!'

I swallow thickly and stand up, black specks flashing across my vision.

"Not good, not good," I mutter.

Moving quickly, I decide it's time for some food.

I wish Tammy were here; I'd give her a piece of my mind. The girl doesn't eat much, just salads, a bun, and sprite is her usual lunch. She says she's picky, but I know differently. I want to slap some sense into that girl, I mean, she's not very bright. She wants to lose weight I guess, not that she needs to. She's rather skinny, her hands on the verge of skeletal. She eats three square meals a day but she may as well be grazing grass, it's not doing much good.

I just want to throttle her. If she wants to starve herself, that's fine by me but there are smarter ways to do it. It's so painfully obvious what's she doing. It's rather hysterical actually. Everyone is worried about her eating habits, trying to coax some healthy foods onto her tray, me included. It's a great diversion, the best wooden horse I could imagine.

Finals weeks was the absolute best time. I told the roommate I had to study. I slept in until noon. She went out for various study sessions and I stayed in. She assumes that I eat. However, when you assume, you tend to make an ass out of you and me.

When I do leave the room to eat, I chow down, filling myself to the max. Typical bulimic activity right? Wrong. I hate throwing up; it's disgusting and detrimental to your health.

No one suspects a thing. I wolf down my food, and trust me, there's a lot. I just want Tammy here so I could gloat, rub it in her face that everyone is watching her and no one is watching me. She counts calories, worrying about every mouthful that enters her stomach. I eat what I want when I want, but only when that burn gets to be too painful.

I'm a masochist, what can I say?

When I feel that burn, I relish it, dragging it out for as long as possible. It let's you know you're alive. I feel more alive, everything is sharper, every pump of blood more precious than you can imagine.

I'm treading a thin line here, that much I know.

You say it's about being skinny. In a way, you're right. I would hate being fat. I would be counting calories like there's no tomorrow. I personally like my body. Sure, I could have bigger boobs, better eyes, more muscle, etc. I so wish I could be in shape. It's not about being skinny, not for me. It's about control and the thrill. I'm an adrenaline junky to a certain degree.

I love pain, always have. I've experimented with pushing my muscles to their limits and over. I poke bruises, rip off scabs, and throw myself in harm's way for the thrill. That pain is such a blessed indicator that I am fucking alive!

I love that feeling of aching want from my stomach. I cradle it in my hands like a precious child.

So, while Tammy has a problem that needs fixing, she doesn't want it fixed. Maybe its control for her too who knows? But she's not very smart about it: she's not me.

I have been manipulating people since a young age. My parents, my friends, my brother, anyone who walked into my life were subject to my experiments. I'm curious you see. I want see how you'll react if I behave a certain way. While I complained that my brother got away with everything, it was a clever ploy to see that my wants were met. I soon learned how to lie, how to act sorry, how to act happy, and how to act sad. I can lie to your face and you won't know. You'll look for eye contact, body language, and my tone of voice. Check, check, check. I will pass with flying colors.

That's why this is so amusing and yet slightly aggravating. Tammy just doesn't realize how to set up such an elaborate scheme to see that her wants are met. I suppose I see a little of myself in her, that's why I want to guide her to the path of eternal damnation.

I'm the good friend, the advice giver, the rational one.

What's an act and what's real?

You decide, I'll keep you guessing until the very end.