Dear Anonymous,

**I apologize for the sheer harshness and negativity conveyed within this piece. Writing this seemed to be the only way that I could vent the rollcoaster of a day that I endured, so I display my thoughts here.

I would like to thank you for your comments today; they really helped put things into perspective. I am thrilled to know that you, a functioning, prominent being of society believe that I, Candace Boehm, am perfect just the way I am. It is comforting to know that I am the ideal weight—you envy my figure and pettiness. It is relieving that you adore my complexion—you love the weary, “model” look upon my face. I am zealous that when you look at me, you do not see the bones protruding at anomalous proportions, as I am told they do, or the dark, sullen crescents that paint the border beneath my eyes. The collarbone that looks like it’s going to break, my waist, my legs..all the imperfections that I am defined by when I glance into the mirror, all of the self-hatred I eternally harbor in my every pulsing cell—you abetted me today. Every Tuesday I am told that I am on the fast track to death. Every day I receive looks of disapproval, judgment, and pity. But you, you do not view me as the sick individual of which I have been labeled. You do not believe the numbers’ claims of malnutrition. Death. Suicide. You told me I was perfect today. You told me I always looked like the most joyful person alive. You told me I looked great. Thank you.

I smiled at you as you said this to me. As you sweetly commented on all of the aspects of my appearance, noting everything from my head to my toes (never mentioning anything of my personality and whatnot because, let’s face it, God knows I am the living dead) a little bit more of me shattered today. The pieces, the remnants, they fell. Like a million diamonds to the floor, the broken pieces finally gave and I, a walking open wound, burned just a tad more. I did not call you out on it, nor did I give to you any indication whatsoever that your words had extrapolated my demise; I just smiled, like always. This is the truth, though. This is what I keep inside. This is what you do not see. Your words today did not faze me, break me, or encourage a cry. No, my dear, a little bit more of me just died.

I had both today, this morning when I woke up. Voices, that is. The Voice was predominate, as usual lately, but I also was able to distinguish the faint whisperings of my own mind..something that I have been incapable of for quite some time. I relished in the sweetness of my awareness as I actually ate something I needed to this morning. Too bad, ‘for it was too short lived. Granted, in this vulnerable position in which I am living, I was fairly predisposed to eventually losing the slight progress I was allotted upon my awakening. However, I do believe that your opinions served as the smallest of catalysts, if I may.

Now I know the truth.

It is now that I know who to believe. I am not sick, emaciated, or close to dying. I do not have some wretched monster living within my soul, depriving me of life in its attempt to ultimately gain total control. I am fine. I am complete. I am a normal girl.

So why do I write this? Why do I ramble on in such a disorderly manner? ‘For it was today, by your help that I gained control.

 If I am envied now, than I still have much further to go. Perfect. Normal. That will NEVER be enough. A compliment is just a nice way of telling you of how little you are worth.

I am prisoner now, and It has the key.

If the day comes when my obituary is displayed before your eyes, and my writings are in some way publicized for you to see, I ask that you remember this: April 10, 2012, you told me everything that I did need.

~ by candyshele1204 on April 11, 2012.