The truth is, is that I’m afraid.
I’m afraid that one day in twenty years you’ll wake up and you’ll be tired of me.
That you won't be excited to see me anymore.
I'm afraid of giving you my all because if I do and you decide to walk away you’ll take all that I have.
That's why I hang on, and every time you tell me that you will never leave.
There's a voice in my head that whispers “He's going to leave you eventually."
So I smile and nod, and try to let myself believe that what you say is true.
But this endless doubt that runs through my head makes it impossible.

So keep writing,
Even if it hurts.
Because even in those moments of pain and hurt
You are feeling, and healing, and moving.
Pick up your pen,
and write.

It hits me in the happiest of places.
My past echoed through people’s honest comments
Through his kindest smile.
When he’s half asleep and he tells you how in love he is.
I'm getting so good at moving on.
At not thinking about you,
But when I walk by a customer who smells exactly like you I can't help but stop and stare.
I can't stop all the images that race through my head.
All running back to you.
Your smell, your sound, your presence.
And I find that even in these moments, you are gone.
And I'm doing exactly what I should be.
Remembering you in bits and pieces, while moving on.
Mending and making something new.

Don’t tell me this is how it is now.
Don’t tell me thanks when I say I love you.
Don’t tell me that I don’t do enough for you.
Don’t tell me that I do not care.
Don’t tell me I don’t love you.

I have given you the world.
I have sacrificed so much.
I have loved you with my entire being.
I have given you my all.
When will you give me yours?

Sometimes it’s so hard to breathe.
Like my lungs are filled with water and I’m drowning.
I’m drowning.
I’m drowning.
I’m drowning.
Please come save me.
Someone…
Anyone…
Before I am gone
forever.

I've had an eating disorder since I was 13 years old.
I ate and ate to fill the void I had, the intense abandonment and anxiety issues I was dealing with.
Then I came out the other side and I would take so many weight loss pills to make me sick and I took so many laxatives to make me have to run to the bathroom every hour.
I restricted my eating, counted my calories and I would go on 72-hour fasts.
Then something happened, I went on a mission trip and I was forced to eat food. I was forced to like what I was eating and I liked it.
Eating wasn't so bad. I wasn't eating myself sick and I wasn't starving myself to insanity.
When I got back I had gained almost all the weight I had lost and I was so upset.
But I didn't have it in me to continue to starve myself again.
I've gained a lot of weight but I don't care anymore. Now I just want to be healthy and love myself regardless of what I look like.
And you should too.