I, I, I.
I am extraordinarily selfish. I am unreasonably emotional. I am spinning in circles.
Oh, how I believe her. I am quick to believe all of it without any shades of grey.
Anorexia says: your thighs are embarrassing. You need to lose 10 pounds. Stat. You need to run more. You need to say goodbye to everyone and everything getting in the way.
Anorexia says: no one cares.
Anorexia says: I will hold you while you cry, for the 18,562nd time this month, because you’re way too fucking sensitive. I will hold you, as long as you stop eating so much. I will be there, always—just do what I say.
Anorexia says: stay. You’ve never been sick enough. You’re a joke to everyone.
Ok, I say, tears welled up in the corners of my eyes. Ok, I say, just tell me what to do.
Lose weight NOW.
It used to be days between professional care before I felt Anorexia’s lure. Right now it’s minutes.