Cheerio’s & Fruitloops: Dangers in the Pantry and my ED.

Two years.

Two years since I decided that I couldn’t live like that anymore.

Two years since I started facing one of the hardest parts of who I was.

Two bloody years.

I had gotten to a point in my eating disorder that I could no longer imagine my life without it. As if my ED had finally made itself a formal extension of me.

No, screw that.

Two years since I stopped letting my ED control my every movement, plan my schedules, and run my life.

A Letter To A Younger Me

Hey you.

It has been a while. I hope you do not think that I have been neglecting you. I didn’t realise how much I needed to separate you from me to get to where we are going. So much has happened since we last sat in our favourite places together; I want to speak indisputable truths to you, but I can’t help but think it best that we first remember the place where we first started this journey together.

I know you feel alone. A deep and immovable glass blanket of sorrow burns at the seams of what makes you you. I know the memories have created insurmountable walls to the inner being that lives inside of you. I know you built a tower of steel around yourself. And I know you painted that windowless prison with flowers, so that no one but you would ever see the desolation that ravages the inhabitants of your palace.