Some call you Ed, some call you E.D., some call you Edward, and the doctors like to call you an eating disorder. I call you the devil, the number one manipulator, the complete opposite of nice. My worst enemy, my friend, my company, my sanity, yet my insanity and loneliness. You make no sense, but what does anymore? I can't go on like this any longer, but then again I tell myself that all the time. You always know how to wrap me around your evil finger and pull me into your constant irrational rituals. I have lost too much to you. I have lost my beauty, my family's trust, my strength, my respect, my inner being, and my God. Not to mention my woman hood, my teen years, my menstrual cycle, my weight, my blood pressure, my hair, my hydration, my nourishment, and my confidence. I am skinny, but to you, I am a whale. You have me believing that the world is looking at my stomach and I am no one without it being "flat". I never get a minute without you. You are in my dreams, or rather, nightmares. I wake up in the middle of the night thinking I have "binged", but then I realize it was just a dream, yet I still want to cry because THIS is ridiculous. So now it is time for you to go to hell. Tuesday I start my partial treatment program. I am sure you will be there with me, but I will try my hardest to ignore you. Instead I will listen to God. I will let him nourish me mentally. As for the physical part, I can do it, and others will be there for me. Your help is no longer needed. I would say goodbye, but instead I will praise God that I have the chance to finally be free.
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