Dear Eating Disorder,
I hate you. I hate what you’ve done to me. I hate how whenever there’s food in front of me, there’s a combat war inside of my head that tries to deny my body of any type of fuel or nourishment.
I hate you. I hate the fact that when my friends invite me out to dinner, I say yes; but only to tell the server the only thing I’ll have is a water.
I hate you. I hate how dizzy I feel when I don’t eat and how holding onto the wall to walk has become a normal thing.
I hate you. I hate how when I look in the mirror, you pick out all of my imperfections and magnify them to the point where I break down crying trying to physically rip the extra skin on my stomach off.
I hate you. I hate the emptiness I feel inside all of the time, and don’t get me wrong, the high feels amazing—until you stop fulfilling all of your promises.
The promise that you’ll “always be there,” or the promise that just losing ten more pounds will make everything so much better for me.
I hate you; because honestly, you’re “there for me” until my body gives out. Then, it’s just me trying to battle all of the physical health problems you bring on.
You weren’t “there” when I was in the hospital and the doctors told me that if I didn’t eat I would have a stroke within three days.
You weren’t “there” when the only thing I wanted to do when I woke up was weigh myself, but my bones ached so heavy I couldn’t even move out of bed.
You weren’t “there” when I was going to the gym three times a day and staying until midnight only to look in the mirror and still despise what I see.
I hate you. I hate you because losing five pounds is too much and twenty is not enough.
It’s never enough for you, is it?
You’ll never be satisfied no matter how much I try to please you and listen to your fucked up voice; because that’s what your voice is, it is fucked up. I’m tired of letting you crush absolutely every ounce of health and happiness I have.
I hate you, and I hate the fact that I hate you. I hate the fact that my life has just become a routine of following your rules. Your rules exhaust me.
Control? I have no control, once you take over. I just throw my hands up and let you consume me, but I’m done letting you do that.
I hate you. I hate you so much, especially when all I want to do is love you.