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I’ll stand in front of a light switch and flick it back and forth, I’ll repeat phrases in my head over and over, I’ll re-read a paragraph of a book ten times because I feel like I didn’t do it right the first time.

Maybe she’s afraid you don’t actually mean what you’re saying. She’s heard tender words that turned out to be lies. She’s been promised futures that were shattered the next day. 

My eating disorder is unrelenting, terrible, and LOUD. It’s so loud that even if you want to hear truth and even if you want to break free, you cannot hear anything anyone is trying to tell you because you are drowning in the shrieks of its anger.

Despite this particular couple’s differences, the future’s uncertainty, and their experience with struggle, that was the most important thing to them; the love. Truthfully, that should be the most important thing to all couples. When the sun begins to shyly peak over the horizon in the timid hours of the morning, what, or rather who, gets you out of bed? If that’s not worth fighting for, then I don’t know what is.

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