Supposedly people like me die.

I wish I could stop.
I wish I could control it.
I wish I could not care about some things.
But care more deeply about others.
I wish I could scream and blame it on someone. Some thing.
I wish I had a valid reason to feel the way I do.
I wish I didn't feel the way I do.
Sometimes I wish I was alone.
Yet I hate feeling so lonely.
I wish he would leave me alone.
I wish I believed with some people say.
And ignore what others say.
I wish I wasn't so selfish.
And that I cared about myself more.
I wish I didn't have to see "triggers" everywhere, every day.
Sometimes I wish I was dying.
Or dead.
So I wouldn't have to live like this anymore.
So I could start over. Perhaps happier.
I wish people understood.
I wish I understood myself.
I wish the world would stop what they don't even realize they are doing.
Perhaps they do realize it. And don't care.
I hope to one day change that.
If only I could change myself first.

Love, Megan

I was eating

a bowl of Cheerios (with fat-free, lactose-free milk) and planning out the coming week.

Stats test tomorrow. Oh, and of course Calculus. Doctor's appointment...again. I sighed to myself.

And suddenly my thoughts began to trail off and my "anti-Ed" voice called out, What if they discover you have cancer or something, Megan! What if you only had until that date to live?

I looked at the milk carton. The date read 03:03:10.

What?! Why would you even think that?! I thought back to myself.

Well, what if? What would you do?

Hmm, I pondered the question, I would eat whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted it. And I smiled.

Why is that, Megan?

I thought hard again and finally answered, I guess because I would want to be happy until the day I die.

Perhaps thinking of death will help me live.

To my very good friend, Joshua

Do you know how much you hurt me? Do you know you made me cry? Do you realize how you encouraged Ed to echo your words between my ears for the rest of the day?

I feel as though I have come so far. I have been on a journey you know nothing of. Hardship and pain you know nothing of. If you did know the struggles, the conscious decisions I have to make every single day, maybe you would take your words back. Words that jabbed me like a knife...or, rather, like your fingers poking and prodding at my fat as if it were your place to judge.

I still feel your hands pinching my "love handles" or poking the belly I am very aware that I have acquired. Ed makes sure of that each and every day. He makes sure I realize how big I'm getting. He pokes and inspects every inch of my body. Every. Single. Day.

So, thanks, but I think I got the physical critiquing covered.

I know you may not realize how deeply you are hurting me when you make these seemingly insignificant gestures. You think nothing of it but, then, you cannot see the battle I am fighting within myself. You cannot see how hard it is for me to combat the ridicules made by Ed.

Every day I am getting stronger and better able to ignore these criticisms. There are days when I feel like the goddess my amazing boyfriend insists I am. And then there are days when people like you feel the need to share their opinion of me.

I have hid my emotional insecurites regarding my body from many of those closest to me. Perhaps, until Ed is long gone anyway, it would be considerate of you to do the same.

Love,
Megan