Dear You, Hey, nerd, it's me. We've been through a lot, haven't we. I know now it was all nothing so I'm not going to go on about feelings or anything. We're friends now, and we do talk sometimes. And it's great, because we talk as if nothing has ever gone on between us, and maybe it hasn't you know? I could have imagined it. It's cool because it's usually so awkward and almost impossible to stay good friends after. Nowadays, I don't even remember half the stuff I used to think about. You know...you used to be a part of everything for me. And it was impossible to escape your memory, so it was impossible for me to move on and be happy. You're not really in anything at all for me anymore. It's more...there's an absense in everything now. And no offense, but you're not really that cool of a person. You suck at just about everything you do, you're not my type, and to be honest...you hurt me so much. So, don't take it as a compliment that you seem to still affect me even now. See, I wish that I still cared about you. I wish that I still obsessed over you, hurt for you, and felt for you. Because now I feel nothing. Seems like, and I may be wrong about this, but it seems like I replaced you with my eating disorder. I always was unhealthy about eating, but ever since you...it's consumed me. I know it's not even close to being your fault, it was the culmination of a bunch of little things over the years. But I just miss feeling for someone. Now I've never been so alone in my life. And at this very moment I sent you an im because no one else but Jason was online and he didn't reply, he's probably busy. You signed off and didn't reply...so I get it. Sometimes I just wish I had affected you. Not because I care or because I want you to care...but because I just wish I were important enough to someone to do that, you know? I guess I just wanted to let you know, that if I never talk to you again after this...it'll probably be because this sickness has consumed me. And I'm sorry for what I do after, I don't know, but I'm not right anymore. And maybe I screwed it up for us. But I don't think so, I don't think it would have ever worked regardless. But if I get better, and live and if I get through this, and get over this feeling of alone and hopelessness...then I want you to know that I'm going to be the most awesome, beautiful, sucessful, kind woman ever to enter your life. And I'm promising myself right now, you will not have me if I get well. You don't deserve the good me, the best of me. I just...wanted you to know that I miss you and I hope you take care of yourself. Don't ever let yourself get too down, and I hope eventually...you do find the right girl. Love, One of the many  

So I took a risk today, but I think it was for the better. The whole time, the voice in my head was screaming at me, telling me to stop, telling me I was fat, I wasn't sick enough...I was a disgrace. But I realized something, that voice is always going to say that. No matter what, I will fail according to the "sick standards" she has for me. So I chose to ignore her. Which I think is the bravest thing I've done in a long time. I had a bowl of corn flakes this morning, yes, I measured the amount and got obsessive over it...but I digested it. I got in the car and drove to Lafayette to see my therapist. We stopped talking about my past and my dad and the mistakes I've made in life because I brought up the past few freakouts and unhealthy episodes I've been having as of late. This is a big step for me because I realize that if I had wanted to, I could have kept on lying to him all this time...he would think that I was a little obsessive about weight, but no harm there. But there is, and I spoke up. And as I said before, the whole time the voice in my head was just screaming and shrieking because I was taking away her control. And in doing that, I think I've gotten a better grip of control on my life consequently. He seemed suprised when I calmly told him everything that was going on in my mind...the voice, the food, the binging, purging, restricting, everything. He seemed concerned, but not angry, not alarmed, not frantic. I'm not being shipped off to be institutionalized, like the voice inside always warned me about. I feel numb right now. We're going to take things one step at a time, he said. First, we need to work on me keeping this journal and he said he doesn't want me to fight it, he wants me to understand it and keep a clear head and just tell him how I feel about things this week next time I see him. Fair enough. I told him I'd tried about two other instances in my life to recover, but I always never did good and failed because I went at it alone. He said that I wasn't alone now. It made me laugh because he said, "I'm in your shit now, Amy, whether you like it or not, which you won't sometimes...but at least you're not alone anymore." I don't ...I don't think anyone has said that to me before. No one has ever been so calm, so matter of fact, and so...unintusive about it. No one has ever made me feel like I'm not alone before, not that others haven't tried. And I don't know what to feel.