It's inside me

It hasn't always been there, and it hasnt always been as bad. But it's always been hungry. Gnawing inside, crying to get out or at least be fed. I've tried starving it of anything and it only digs harder, contracting and expanding burrowing into me. It's my unwanted guest, and it sees me as a prison.
I don't exactly know what it is, but it likes few things. Water, yes, pizza, no. Apples, mabye, curry, massive no. My guest shows when it doesn't like something, causing me to feel constant nausea. Swirling uncomfort untill, I can't hold it in any longer and rush to the nearest toilet.
First time it happened I thought it was some bug, and ignored it. But when medicine wasn't clearing it I new something was up. It went from some meals to most meals to every meal. This creature in me, dictating if I'd eat out, what I'd eat, whether if ever gain nutrition from food. I felt like a walking skeleton, but I never lost any weight, only became so lethargic I couldn't pick myself up to meet its demanding groans.
I never thought it could be worse, then it did. Its like whatever it was had spread to my head. Whispering voices at first then screaming demands. EAT. I had no real choice but to obey, accept that I'd lost all control of my stomach. EAT NOW.
It became dissatisfied with anything I had to offer. THROW IT UP, OR I'LL MAKE YOU. Thoughts of carving it out of me came often, even death would be less torturing than this, surely? YOU'LL THANK ME LATER, I'M MAKING U SKINNY. I started seeing myself differently, never having much issues with my body became hating it. Long days staring myself down feeling the same disgust my guest felt toward the food I gave it.
I realised I'd never told anyone, no one really noticed. Mabye they saw it as me just dieting? FEED ME. I'm not sure why, but I opened up about it to a close friend. They thought I was joking at first, but the look on my face must have told them otherwise because they said I should get. FOOD NOW OR ELSE. Help. So I did, and it was going well.
It took a while and took alot but, I stared at myself less, and started to accept how I looked on the outside. It, spoke less, demanded less. I felt like I'd finally silenced it. But I knew it was still there because I could feel it, smaller, but the hole was still craving to be fed. I was just stronger.
I thought that anyway, but, it claimed me anyway. The damage had been done. When they found me coughing up my own insides I was rushed to hospital. When they cut me open they found hundreds if not thousands of clawing scratches inside me. I'd bled out from the inside.
I obviously wasn't there to see my own death, I wasn't there for the funeral either but those who were. They swear that a small creature was hiding off in the distance, crying out eerily. A deep grumbling moan. Feed me.


Source.