Maybe tomorrow I'll feel a speck worthwhile

I had no idea what time it was when I woke up.

I felt Mikes arm around me and I couldn't help but smile - I remembered being on tour, lying just like this, Mikes fingers gently scratching my back and neck to make me fall asleep, no matter how tired he was.

I sighed, carefully getting Mikes arm off me, making him snore and turn around.
I stood up - the hunger was fucking killing me.
I put my boxers and one of my t-shirts on, looking at Mike.

Mike, I wish I could tell you.
I wish I could tell you everything, just so you can hold me and make everything okay.

It wasn't supposed to go this far.
It started so innocent, just a few things, nothing noticable.
Now I can't stop. I can't.

But Mike, I can never tell you.
You're my best friend, and I won't tell you about this.
I can't destroy you.
I can't let you worry about me, when you have your pregnant wife and your family to think of.

I remember the one time when I completely snapped.
I threw away my guitar and fell down on the floor, screaming and crying my fucking eyes out.
Everyone got scared shitless, but you and Tré, you stayed.
Tré held me, made me laugh and you made me pasta.

You guys have taken care of me as long as I can remember.
Through my panic attacks, you're holding me close to your chest, helping me breathe.
Fuck it, Mike. I really really wish I could tell you.

I walked to the kitchen, opening the pantry and grabbed a box of Cheerios.
Before I knew it, I'd already swallowed handfuls of Cheerios.
It fell on the floor and I opened the fridge, drinking milk from the carton.
I threw away the empty milk carton, grabbing a chocolate bar and ate the half of it.

Five pieces of white bread with peanut butter, some left overs, Coke...
My stomach was an empty hole and my throat hurt from swallowing too fast.
When a spoon full of ice cream went in my mouth, I stopped.

I looked at the mess I've been making and laid my hands on my stomach.
You're a disguisting, pathetic freak.

I closed the bathroom door behind me, putting the water on full speed and got on my knees next to the toilet.
I looked at myself in the reflection of the water, breathing heavy.

What have you become, Billie Joe?

I quickly show two fingers down my throat, making the only food I've eaten come right out from the same way it got in.
The tears fell down my cheek but I did it again, wanting everything to leave my stomach.

When my vomit didn't contain food anymore, I finally stopped.
You're loosing it. You're fucking loosing it.
I didn't mean to let this happen.
If you had some self esteem, it wouldn't had happen at all...
I know. I know.
...you fat, pathetic, idiotic...
Shut up, shut up, shut up!
...No wonder your father left you!

I grabbed my hair, sobbing and rocking.

God, Mike. Help me. Please help me.
Anyone, help me.