My body is repairing itself.
My tummy is no longer a sinking hole of sadness,
It opens when I breathe and dances when I laugh.
And I can feel the very tips of my toes and fingers again, after years of dead hands and empty feet.
Does part of you ever wonder what it could have been like if everything wouldn’t have gotten so carried away?
Almost every day now I can carry myself with strong feet and a present mind that thinks about so much more than the calories in a bite of chocolate cake, or the guilt of even craving the taste.
You say you’re feeling better too, and I hope that means you can tell yourself how beautiful you are every time you walk beside your shadow, Every time you dry-off after a hot shower or get dressed.
You are so much more than your skin,
You are more than the size of your legs
and the muscles in your arms.
This is for all the girls who’re still struggling, all of the one’s on the road to recovery, and the ones who have nearly returned completely to their lost bodies.
In the misadventure of losing yourself and having to find the scattered pieces,
You will manage to become whole again—you will manage to become full again, and I hope you can be happy.
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