I used to be just like you, really. And it hurts me to see you because I know just what it feels like. I know what you’re going through, I know what you’re feeling. I wish I could help, but knowing myself as I was, you don’t want to hear it. It all hurts even more to hear it, we don’t want to face it, and we don’t want to believe it. We just want to be praised for our destructive behavior. I know, I know. You’ve convinced yourself that you’re happy and doing great, but I see what you’re doing, and I know the truth.

I’m hopeful for you because I see that I recovered. I see where I made it today, and I know that no matter how long and hard the journey may be, I got there, and so will you. I just hope you just don’t suffer too much along the way.

I see what you’re doing to yourself. I hear you tell me. But I see the tone in your voice. You’re not aware of it. You speak with pride about the ways you hurt yourself and self-damage yourself. I know that you know deep down that it’s nothing to be proud of, that you wish you could just love yourself, give yourself a break, and calm down. You know you’re not doing yourself any good, but you don’t know how to do otherwise, because you’ve convinced yourself that you need to hurt yourself to be worthy of anything.

I see you, as beautiful, talented, intelligent, determined and witty. So why can’t you see it and believe it? I hope that one day, no matter how long it takes, you will learn to love yourself and do things for your body because you love it, not because you hate it.