13 Years Old: A bittersweet birthday cake smears frosting in zig-zag swirls on my mirror. A reflection is blurred with steam that smothers the oxygen I breathe for the next four years. Seeds of insecurities are planted where rose bushes should be, but they suffocate themselves with their thorns. Ed, you promised me that with you in my life, I could even make the crows sing. I invested my life you’re your vague promises.

14 Years Old: My legs begin to dangle beneath wind pipes. You knock the wind out of me. You’ve taken my intestines and laced them with ceramic so I won’t gain nutrients. The smell of the dead leaves in the humid summer motivated you Ed, to supplement the naked trees with bare bones. All you have provided me was a cardboard bed mounted on nurses and doctors. Our pinkies intertwine with another promise to keep your secrets.

15 Years Old: On March 20^th, I wore a turquoise dress sprinkled with silver glitter. It caught twinkles in your eyes so that you deform your sight of the body beneath layers fabric. Ed, you made me believe that relationships should be based upon the shape of the person you have objectified. You have given me no more value than a crumbled piece of chalk. I stood on a scaffold, waiting for your promise.

16 Years Old: Ed, I’m getting really tired of these promises you can’t keep. I work all day while you sit and do nothing. I’ve stated to lose motivation that fades with my personality. I found someone who me or who I am, not who you promise me I’ll be. I’m starting to love me too. But I’m so scared to leave you. For a while, I tie you with guitar strings and play melodies so that you stay. My fingers too callused to keep up your expectations I finally build up gold bricks to gain the courage to jump over my imperfections. I don’t need you.

17 Years Old: You’ve left my life for good. I watch a chocolate birthday cake appear in front of me and zigzag in the mirror become parallel lines. Roses bloom without thorns. The ceramic in my stomach diminishes, I gain nutrients that give me the strength to live without you. The Spring brings color back to the trees. I wear my glitter dress as a person, and use my callused fingers to create music for me, not for you, Eating Disorder.