Dear Clair,
I wish you never told me about your bullshit. I am truly sorry to say it, I want to be the person you can tell anything, the person you can trust. But this is too far. For weeks now I cant take my mind off of your illness.(and no matter what you say it is an illness) with every piece of food I eat, every time I work out all I think about is your problems. I must be insensitive to be writing this to you but I cant take it anymore. I want to help you but I haven't the slightest clue where to start. Should I tell you I give up? Or should I not say anything so I don't give attention to it. Sometimes I think that's all you want: Attention. I cant stand that. Just stop being so fucking pathetic. Eat a cake. Eat some cookies, go a day without working out. And DON'T throw it up. I dare you. You should know I have been facing some moral dilemmas as of late. Some people, like you, don't even think its wrong to be bulimic. They think its a choice and its no one else business but their own. I have decided that it is wrong, I know it in my heart. I would look at someone who is obese and say the same thing. I know you think you'll be sexy if your skinny but you wont... who am I kidding? No matter what I say you wont change your mind I know that. That is why I feel helpless. What does that make me if my best friend is a pathetic bulimic. It makes me pathetic. What does it make me if I write something so vile to my best friend. It makes me cruel. Cruel or not I still feel the same. I still love you like a sister. You are my other half, I know it but you are the part of me I still hate. I hated food too. For 6 months I didn't eat anything. I spit up anything in my mouth. I lied to my mother. I lied to my sister. I lied to the doctors at the hospital and I just didn't care. I don't know if I wanted to die, but I think it would have been easier on my mother if I had. I was too cowardly to kill myself, so I just didn't do what I should have to stay alive. To this day I never told anyone that it was my choice, that I was killing myself. What I see in you, I see in myself. I don't know what made me snap out of my daydream but I got better. From then on I shunned attention to myself because of how I abused it. Now I see you doing the same thing as I did. I refuse to be reminded of that past and I refuse to sit helpless and support the madness you face. I know I cant do much to help you, but I refuse to believe you are just as pathetic as me. Its hard fighting the same demons twice.
Your friend,
Alysa