The toilet and I have become VERY friendly. We commune daily in ritual, sometimes even more often than that. I put my open mouth to the open mouth of the toilet and we exchange fluids; liquid pouring from my mouth into the liquid of the toilet. The liquid in the toilet, in its disturbed state, gently splashes up onto my face. Tears roll slowly down my face and splash into the toilet, creating tiny, dreamy circles and increasing the salt concentration of the water in the toilet bowl.

I weep, from guilt of eating too much food, from guilt of not eating enough food, from guilt of wasting food when children are starving in India, when children are starving in Sudan, when children are starving in China, when the children who live down the street have not enough to eat. From guilt of lying, from guilt of disappointing friends and family, but they will feel no pain. What they do not know will not hurt them. I think.

I flush the toilet three times; it does not wish to be my partner in this crime, but I force it to dispose of the evidence; I cannot be found out. I have finished my daily sacrifice to my God, the plumbing, I have disgorged myself until there was nothing but blood left to be expelled, and then some. My blood sacrifice was not accepted gladly, but it was accepted, for which I am thankful.

I hope that one day I shall be free from this malevolent god…