I’m the only one who can talk to E.D. I’m the only one that can hear him. His voice is cruel, loud and demanding. His body is thin and tight. Others don’t understand how cynically beautiful he is. Others don’t understand how much a part of my life he is, correction. How much he was a part of my life.

E.D spoke for me, ate for me, fell in love with me. He chose me, out of so many girls, an eating disorder chose me, he held onto every inch of my body with such force it was as if I was suffocating in the middle of the day. The intoxication of his love was so overwhelming I couldn’t see past it, and so I thought it was real. I thought our relationship was real until the day he left me standing alone in a hospital bathroom, sobbing in front of mirror with my broken body in its reflection. Even then he didn’t cease to leave me alone. He stalked my every move, dictating my ability to think for myself. I obeyed his every move; after all, I thought we were soul mates. We both loved the same numbers that had one small purpose in life. And now I tell you E.D, my dear, damned Eating Disorder that those numbers are worthless, insignificant, meaningless, and over idealized. Yet E.D thought they were more than that. He led me to believe that those numbers were all I had to live for; he taught me how to live to love those injudicious numbers that appeared on the scale in front of me. And I did, because aside from him it was the only thing I had control over. I couldn’t control people, materials, or money, but I could control my weight. I controlled the amount of calories consumed and burned. But E.D ultimately controlled me. And after all, he was brainwashing me, so I loved him.

Enough about love. This isn’t a love story. People who love you do not leave your body beaten and depleted. People you love do not leave you to feel completely alone, as if the world is moving, and you’re merely watching from a far distance. People you love make you feel worth living, make you feel proud to be yourself. And my dear reader, E.D did none of those things. My eating disorder abused me, told me I wasn’t worth being friends with any of the girls at my school. My eating disorder mocked me for fantasizing about looking a certain way, tantalized me for eating, and disconnected me from my world. He let me fall, without a net, without telling anyone I was about to hit the floor, until I did. And when hit the floor, the pain was excruciating, and I woke up in a hospital bed with a new and difficult adventure in front of me. My eating disorder turned me into to a girl who cringes at the thought of eating desserts, or people purposefully feeding food to her. He turned me into a girl that lacked personality, that lacked self confidence. He took away my life. My eating disorder took away my life, and I want it back. I want to smile, and be happy to wake up and embrace myself for who I am. So I will do the one thing E.D never did. I will believe in myself, I will have confidence in myself, I will love myself. I am a strong and powerful teenage girl who doesn’t need an eating disorder to dictate her life. So E.D, adorable, arrogant, agnostic eating disorder, we are so over.