Dear Bulimia,

Dear Bulimia,

I think I know why everyone said you were a lie.

At first, you reeled me in
with the pleasure of power,
the illusion of control,
and the promise of being those girls online.

You made it feel like strength.
Like discipline.
Like I had finally mastered something. 

You sold me discipline
disguised as destruction,
and I called it proof
that I was finally good enough.

But the longer we were together,
the more addicted I became.

What felt like control
slowly controlled me.

This sick love I have for you
is killing me—
and somehow I’m still standing by your side.

But someday,
maybe just someday,
we’ll be broken.

No longer each other’s campaign.
No longer fighting for something
that was never fighting for me.

just each others enimies