I’m sorry for refusing to feed you when you were hungry in hopes you would shrink to society’s idea of “perfect”. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you even though you thirsted for nothing more than nutrition and love. I’m sorry for poking and prodding you with false hopes of the standard of beauty. I’m sorry for all the measuring tapes and scales and spreadsheets marked up with ever shrinking inches and every growing bitter self-loathing.
I’m sorry Body, I’m sorry I turned you into a battle field full of explosions of scars and diets of lemon water and weight loss pills. I’m sorry for all the nights spent on the clammy bathroom tile floor because I drank a little too much trying to feel something. It turns out you can’t fill the emptiness inside of you with vodka and aspirin.
I’m sorry for etching words of self-hate into your loving arms. I use to think my veins were strings you had to cut free but maybe they are strings of a symphony inside of me waiting for me to strike a chord. I’m sorry I let his filthy hands wrap around your lovely neck. I’m sorry I didn’t protect you more.
It’s been five months now… One hundred and fifty days since I took a blade to you to release the crimson poison that is pumping through my veins. I haven’t treated you so well in the past but I am trying for a better future. I hope you can accept my apology.