Dear Anorexia- A Love Letter to My Captor

Dear Anorexia,
You found me
When I was too young to know
That hunger had a name,
Too quiet to scream
When you offered silence in return.

You never needed to force me.
I opened the door.
You stepped inside,
Took up residence in the corners of my mind,
And I let you rearrange everything.

You were precise.
Cruel in a way I mistook for care.
You showed me how to erase myself
Without leaving blood on the floor.
Just the slow, surgical disappearance
Of want,
Of warmth,
Of weight.

You made me forget
The sound of my own laughter.
You made me apologize
For the space I took up
In rooms,
In conversations,
In skin.

I loved you.
I still do,
In the way the dying love
The dark.

You never lied.
You promised pain,
And gave it freely.
You taught me that control
Is just another cage,
That beauty
Is a kind of violence
You practice on yourself
Until you can’t stand up anymore.

I used to dream of being light enough
To float away.
Now I just dream of nothing.
No hunger.
No fullness.
No sound.

No one sees it,
But I live in a constant funeral.
No body,
But a death just the same.
And I hold your hand like a mourner
Too afraid to let go.

People say you're killing me.
But it doesn’t feel that way.
It feels like becoming
Exactly what you wanted:
Silent.
Small.
Gone.

So here's your letter.
Not goodbye.
Not even a plea.
Just this—

I am yours.
And you are mine.
And I don’t remember
What it felt like
To be anything else.