I am divorcing you. I love you but I hate you at the same time. In fact, I didn't even believe we were separate people until a few days ago. A little voice in my head kept saying "It's stupid. Give it a name and it will consume you. Take responsibility for your own actions."
Well guess what. That voice was you. You were so strong you had me believing bulimia was a part of me when it's actually just you inhabiting my body.
You make me think I want to do certain things when I don't. Once you're gone, I won't be stealing food. Sneaking it in the dead of night. Eating until my stomach hurts. Throwing up six times a day. Because that is not what I, Emily, do. It's what you do and you use my body to do it.
Henceforth, your every move will be under surveillance. Transcripts will be made of every conversation you have with me or anyone.
I do not want you to abuse me anymore. Stop calling me names. Stop making me feel fat. Stop making me eat when I don't want to. Stop pretending you love me. Stop watching me. Stop making me nervous. Stop tricking me into thinking no one loves me and that I am worthless.