Dear Friend,

Where do I start? My thoughts are all jumbled and incoherent, but I feel I have to say something. I must reach out to you. If you're not ready, that's okay. However, deep in my bones, I feel I must prepare something for when you are, and I hope that time is sooner rather than later. So, please forgive my stumbling attempt to help; if I were able to remove my biases, perhaps this would be more eloquent. So, I guess, I'll start where I noticed you stopped.

You stopped eating months ago; I've tried my best to care for you since I noticed. I've brought you food (from places you used to love), invited you to dine with me, and cooked for you. You claim you are not hungry. You say you have already had a meal or two. You claim you are healthy. You claim you are just exercising more, and undeniably you are, but combined with your more recently enthusiastic approach to movement is your lack of appetite; your lack of interest in nourishment; your massive expenditure of energy is joined with you denying your body sustenance.

I used to wrap my arms around you and feel your heart beat next to mine, and all I would think about was our synchronized breathing and how connected I felt to you as another human. I used to think your being (your essence, your soul, your spirit) was incredibly pure and untouched by society’s unattainable requirements, and I wished my own would emulate your presence. I used to sleep beside you and when I wrapped my arms around you, I felt secure and safe simply by being in your presence. I used to sleep better near you. I used to regard you as untouchable.

Now I think of you and I think of pain because I see your pain. Now I think of you and I think of all of my preconceived notions concerning your body and you. Now I know how wrong I was. Now I know how much you’ve suffered beside me. Now I see how blind I was. Now I feel guilty for the comfort I took in the presence of your vessel; I should have been offering up comfort, not taking it. Now I feel guilty for wishing I could be as comfortable as you were in your vessel.

As winter slowly faded into spring, your presence became less noticeable. You occupied less space physically, but you also seemed to be shrinking behind a wall emotionally and mentally. I noticed my arms came closer together when I hugged you. When the snow left a million, small streams of water behind, you left me with vacant stares and preoccupied conversations.

My dear friend, know that I love your vessel. Know that I love your vessel because it contains you. Know that whatever shape it takes, so long as it contains you, I will always love it. Know that if you choose to shrink your vessel, I will still love it and you, but that I will have to adjust. Know that your eating habits do not affect your -vessel- alone. Know that your pain is acknowledged, and that I have tried to take it on by myself, but I am too weak. Know that society is fucked if it can’t handle all of you because it is missing out. Know that I will be here. Just know I love you, friend. Know I would do anything I could to take your pain; know how sorry I am for being incapable and weak. Where I only see impossible paths, you've always seemed to find options. So, if ever you read this, tell me what I can do.

May you find peace and happiness,

May I find peace and happiness,

May we find peace and happiness.