Why does it feel like I slept through multiple years of my life. Everything from my past is a motionless blur.
I remember him, the devil alive inside of a boy I once trusted. The one who stole everything I had. My mind, my body, my family, my friends. He took it all and left nearly nothing behind.
I remember the fear, the struggle, the repulse. I remember the scale, the numbers, and the counting. Counting pounds, calories eaten, calories burned, adding, subtracting, thinking, and suffocating.
I remember that day. The day you lifted my arm. You raised it’s weightless self into the air, looked into my eyes, and asked “What happened to you?”.
I wish I could have told you. I wish I understood why this illness chose me.
I can tell you now, that I am still not free.
Your words follow me everyday with the look of despair in your eyes, something that I will never allow myself to forget.
Something happened that day.
That was the moment I was given a second chance.