You are enough. You are more than enough.
We have been through a lot together, and I will no longer hate the vessel that keeps me fighting.
But I am nourishing my body so I can claim my life back. I have control now, and with that control, I am choosing to recover.
Anorexia is dying. It is awful.
No matter what I did, you were never happy. There was always room for improvement. You told me that I needed to be perfect, and it wasn’t until I starved myself to near death that I realized that the only way I could be perfect is if I was dead.