An Open Letter

To: the Man trying to get me to love myself

I can promise you one thing. I am going to try. I am going to will past every thought telling me not to love. I am going to attempt to embrace every flaw I see. I will never be able to see myself through your eyes, but I hope my feeble endeavor will make you proud.

I realize, laying in bed with your hand resting on my waist, this war isn’t over. I realize I have won battles against Ed and self harm, but I have so much more I have to do, for me. I realize I have to win many more battles for this war to end. This moment when you grab my waist and pull me in for a kiss. I melt, I forget the thoughts running through my head and i am present. We won that moment, and maybe that’s worth more than this battle.

You hold me, You grab my back and appreciate the whole of me. Running your fingers along my skin complimenting me on the softness. You teach me something new when you cup my hipbones in your hand, I never noticed they were starting to protrude. You hold them anyways, grasping them like a steering wheel. Turning myself over to you was one of the greatest acts of surrender. And I do not want to regret it. I was showered with compliments and an infatuation I have not known. When you ask me what I like about you I do not know how to respond. You act as if the whole of you isn’t desirable. I am frustrated that you give me the purest compliments, but cannot understand why I would be infatuated with you.

These are the first moments I’ve heard reassuring words. I do not know what to do with them. I am looking for the sharpness that usually etches words into my skin, but there is no pain attached to what you tell me. These words fall softly in my hands like spring petals and you shower me with them. You make sure I am able to marvel at the beauty of them and I have enough of them to place over every wound still healing. Thank you. Thank you for these petals.

I know you hate it when I apologize, but I’m sorry for what I have learned. I am sorry that when I list things I love I say books, Disney, overthinking, poetry, roller coasters, pasta, tattoos, obscure documentaries and cuddles. I could list everything I love But no wherein thatlist do I put myself. I will work on that. I promise. I have to meet myself in the mirror. I am able to look into your eyes and watch constellations of light appear and fall entranced, but with myself I pick and poke at what is wrong. I want to know and love this new body like she’s an old friend. She has been here for me since the beginning. When I meet myself in the mirror I will whisper ‘I love you’ I will whisper until I believe it enough to say it, and then scream it. You see I tried this whisper and my voice cracked with fear of not knowing self acceptance. When I meet myself in the mirror, I was awkwardly shy. I haven’t known the girl staring back at me. I twisted and turned taking in every part of her, every part of me. I didn’t say a mean thing, but I didn’t know what to say either, that is when my voice cracked and fear had flooded my body.

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