Dear anorexia,

You were my only friend for three years.

When we first met, you told me how you were going to make me just like I wanted to be. You told me getting rid of food meant getting rid of my misery. You told me hiding was going to make me stronger, you told me giving up on food was the supreme representation of strength. You told me it was only for a little bit. You told me you were going to leave as soon as I saw that 55 on the scale. But 55 became 50, then 40, and you just would not leave. One more kilogram, you would say. One more, then you can stop.

You lied to me, and I believed you.

I believed you were going to save me, but you almost killed me.

Almost.

Almost, because I am the strongest person I know. Almost, because I survived you, you and all you took from me. Some of the things you took, I will never get back. I will never get those three years back, fifteen to eighteen, the best years of one's life, some say; three years that I spent obeying your orders, walking on the thin line between life and death. I will never get back the people I lost because of you, the ones you made me push away because they were trying to help.

My body will carry your marks forever. If I ever wanted to forget, I would always have your marks to remind me of our war.

It was me against you, and you lost.

It took me a long time to realize you were not my best friend, but my worst enemy. After that realization, it took me an even longer time to get rid of your angry voice, to solve the conflict in my head between the part of me that was addicted to you and the part of me that knew I had to fight back.

I wish you could see me now. I wish you could see how much I enjoy food, how much better I feel about myself, how I am surrounded by people I love. I wish you could see how I have changed for the better since we parted. I bet you would be so mad. All you ever wanted was for me to be miserable.

A few months ago I was not ready to let go, I let you beat me up one last time before I decided enough was enough. I am a new person now.

I can still hear your voice in the back of my head sometimes:

"Do you really wanna eat that?"

"Look at how fat you got"

"You need me back."

What has changed is that when I hear it, now, I know how to turn you down. I have learned how to say no, and I want you to know I am not playing any more of your dangerous games. I actually value my life now, believe it or not, and I am not going to lose it to you.

Come back for me, if you wish: you'll find a shut door. I am never, ever letting you have your way with me again.

Dear anorexia, you were nothing but a lie. A charming one, for sure, but a lie. I have much more to live for now than whatever you have to offer.

You almost took my life once. You are not going to touch it ever again.

No longer yours,

Leenda