Look, I'm glad you came in and put your feet up, (on my brand new coffee table...),
but I'm afraid now isn't really a good time, I'm afraid there's no such thing as a really
good time. You can't stay here. Again. I have better things to do than to take two
hour baths in the dark because I can't stand to look at myself, and try to bend myself
backwards to look like a magazine model.
It's like you feel the need to take up space once inhabited by food with reget and anger
once it's gone. It's the empty space is an opportunity for your misery to sit like a rock
in the pit of my stomach.
Is it a coincidence that "bully" is in the word bulimia? Because you pick on your
vicitms like they don't already have to drag themselves, room from room,
just to get around, you pick on them like they're oblivious to your hatred.
You are a fake friend, you say, "I'll be here with you 'till the end!" But you can
only say that, because you know when the end will be, because it will be your
What did you want from me anyways? Why are you still here? Did you want my
soul? I already sold that to you. My life? I handed that over to you years ago,
free of charge, unless you count the enamel on my teeth as charge, did you want
my sanity? Ha, me too. I can't give you something I don't have,
Why do you have to have that effect on people? That when people hear that word,
they look the other way, like when a dog is hit by a truck, or a little girl passes by
with a bruise under her eye.
How many years I went without help, or hope, or even a voice because everyone
cringed at your name.
Dear People Who Cringe at The Word Bulimia,
HELP ME. Can't you see I'm drowing in a sickness my own mind encourages?
When you told me I was hopeless you were as helpful as the people who cringe at
the word "bulimia".
I'm not saying it's all your fault, but it's all your fault.
You're not blameless. Though you grew up with shaky hands, staring at the cracks
under the bed you used as protection, you could have been different. It's not too
late. Thank yourself.
Thank you for harboring the hints I couldn't say out loud, thank you for harboring
the smile some people have managed to fall in love with, and thank you for
keeping the eyes that hold secrets I'm afraid I'd say otherwise.
Thank you for helping me breathe even when I told you not to, your disobedience
meant the difference between life and death.
Dear Stretch Marks,
Thank you for loving me more than I ever loved myself. You loved your home so
much you changed with it.
Dear Thunder Thighs,
Thank you for carrying me every step of the way, and keeping the shallow boys
I forgive you for telling me I'm not beautiful because I'm not skinny. But not as
much as I forgive my body.
I forgive you.