I'm back at my original weight from what seems so long ago. 110. It's a scary weight. It's the weight that it seems I was always a failure in. I was always too big and too much at that weight. So now comes the time to convince myself and the world that I'm not a failure.

She's screaming inside of me, "Get me out, you're killing me. Stop before you kill me!" My body feels like it's dying. It's not used to this. It's  not used to three meals, and a normal exercise routine and sleep. It thinks it's dying. She thinks I'm killing her. And she's right, I am.

I'm killing all those thoughts that she spoon fed me for so long. I'm murdering all the doubt and the pain she let consume both me and her. I'm massacring the thoughts of starvation one notion at a time. And she's fighting back, but she's getting weaker because I'm getting stronger.

And in a way, I will miss her. For a long time, she was my only friend. She was the only person I could confide in. When things got tough, she would pick me up and hold me and tell me what I needed to do to make things right. She would push me forward and encourage me to keep goind. For a while...she was all I lived for. All I cared about.

So in a way, it hurts more than anything. God it hurts like hell. And I'll miss her.