I can no longer feed the voice in my head telling me not to eat.

I died a little inside, I died.

You were present in my most vulnerable times, and I thought you were my friend, because you were all I had. I confided in you for comfort, as my safety net as something that would never leave my side. I wish I could say you left like another bad friend, but you were the bad friend that never left. Feeding on me to fulfill yourself with my hurt and anger.

I loved you like my own, arguing with others that I would never get rid of you, using you as a threat to leave the people who loved me. I knew you were killing me, and I loved it. I was euphoric off of you, addicted even. I never wanted to let you go, like a spouse to death do us part, because that was the reality of our relationship. I would die, and I loved that part even more.