Dear Me, Fuck You.

What's wrong? Thinking about taking a bite of that? Thinking about gaining more weight? Thinking about hating yourself more (if that's even possible)?

Don't fucking do it. Don't take that bite, I'll just make you throw it back up. Don't gain more weight, you're already morbidly obese. Don't worry, if you stick with me, you won't hate yourself.

You're nothing without me. You're weak. You can't even tell anyone. Why?

'Cause they'll hate you.
                                    Or worse, you'll spread it to them.

You wouldn't want anyone else to think like you do right?
That's what I thought.

You don't want to go the clinic again do you?
Have people watch your every move?
Go to therapy sessions and "discuss" why you're so fucked up?
Have a doctor record your weight on a daily basis?
Don't do it. Don't tell. Don't ruin your life.

Remember when you first realized it was wrong?
When he told you you're messed up?
Remember when someone else told you it works?

You weren't strong,
You gave in.
You gave up.
So what makes you different now?

That's right,  you're not giving me up.