I am a perfectionist. And I saw in you, perfection. You were this untouchable creature of incredible elegance, you had always been the bright star that guides me home when the dark and devouring world outside has struck me down to my knees. I believed in you. I believed in you as I had believed in the wish I bestowed upon a shooting star.

But you. You took my trust, my faith, my naivete, my devotion, my pursuit of perfection, my self destructive love and broke me.

I think I have every right in the world to say that when you casually tossed the phrase: “You need to lose some weight” you knew just exactly how much the phrase will haunt me. The way you said it–so casually, so coolly, so ‘oops I did not mean to hurt you so no offense intended’-ly–as if the mischievous smirk on your face was not there. As if I was never going to discover the silent satisfaction you had as you pressed your lips together and spoke again the dreaded phrase with an exhausting and fake tone of concern.

But God damn me. I knew what you were doing. Yet, I could not help but let you manipulate me.

I went through three months of extremities. Regurgitating every meal that consisted of anything more than a serving of fruit. I screamed in hysteria at the reflection of the supposedly fat, unattractive girl who needed to lose some weight’. And when that wasn’t enough to settle me, I reached out and shattered the image. The result of course, was my right hand wrapped in bandage for a while. Yet, I could not stop feeling happy as you smiled at my self-mutilation and lead me to believing that I was truly doing what was right because  “You know, you look so beautiful in that dress”. The words were your strings and I was the lone puppet in your play of vanity.

I let you push, pull, bend, twist, and strangle me. I gasped for my life under your grip. I lost sight of that beautiful dream you were. I was sick. I was sick inside and out. My parents had found me lying on my very own bedroom floor. Tubes were plugged into my body delivering me food because the thing at risk was my life. I battled for nearly a year against what you instilled in me.

You never came by to apologize or even just to say “Hi”. Not even once.

Years after you occurred, I would sometimes wander back to where we begin and I would wonder; Did you ever, in the deepest, darkest, most insecure corner of your heart ever truly love me?

I will never be able to let you go. But I know all dreams must end.

Especially nightmares.


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