It's strange to think that this time last year, I was just meeting a guy who would change my life. A guy who would change my perceptions of men and of humanity in general. A guy who would put me down, bait me, manipulate me, hit me, control me, and abuse me. He would track my food and weight, punish me for bingeing, teach me to purge, and isolate me.
He let me spend the night with him and cry when I was sad. He let me stay, even though he had a girlfriend. She was an hour away and didn't matter. He offered to kiss me, cuddle me, hold my hand, and listen to me try and talk out my troubles with Endo and Ana. And I would pay for it with my body, my pain, and my sanity.
A friend tells me it wasn't my fault. I was vulnerable, and this guy was on a power trip. My therapist tells me it's not my fault. I needed someone to love me, so it's not a surprise that when he baited me, and then snatched that love away, I lost it. I tell myself it's all my fault. I should've known better. I knew from the start that someone here was going to get burned, and that it would probably be me.
It's strange to think that that was just a year ago. The moments when I truly decided to starve myself. When he told me I wasn't thin enough. When I truly began to believe I was worthless. When he said I couldn't leave the affair, because no one else would take me because I was a misfit and a defect. When I made my first suicide attempt after he told me what a fuck up I was. I believed him. I was dumb.
Was that just a year ago?
It was 3 am and I was crying into the pillow. I had become an insomniac. He called me at 4 am and asked me to come over and listen to him gripe. I did this. Then I let him use me as his punching bag.
I did this because I was lonely. I did this because I had no where else to go. I did this because I felt like I deserved it.
It's strange to think that it was only a year ago.
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