I was born with an autoimmune disease,
That attacks the thyroid gland.
I started showing symptoms when I was 5 years old.
I was a fat child.
I’ve been fat for as long as I could remember.
I was bullied ever since I was little,
By everyone in my life,
Because of my weight.

Starting with my mother who’d tell me,
“Stop eating,”
To the teacher who refused,
To let me join the class dance,
Because I looked bad,
And didn’t fit in with the rest of the pretty girls,
With normal bodies.
And mama’s coworkers,
Who’d advise me to eat salads,
And take appetite suppressants,
When they’d come over for dinner.

Because of this autoimmune disease,
I had depression when I was a child.
The disease gnawed at me from the inside,
And destroyed me.
I developed pathological anxiety,
When I was 6 years old.

I’m now 22 years old,
And I suffer from personality disorders,
In addition to some mental disorders such as,
Depression,
And obsessive-compulsive disorder.
They were only on the margin,
Because I grew up believing that I was the reason behind my depression and sickness.
I also believed that I was the reason I was fat.

With every extra bite,
I would feel guilty.
I still do.
Whenever I eat an extra piece of bread,
Or add an extra spoonful of pasta,
The voice in my head laughs and says,
“Well, of course, you’re fat because you can’t stop eating.”

My body is a lot bigger than I am.
I’m much younger than it.
It doesn’t suit me.
The fact that I don’t accept my body or appearance,
Is the reason why I’m writing these words right now.
It’s what makes me eat that extra piece of bread,
Just to spite anyone who’s ever hurt me,
With their actions or words,
Because of my sickness.
It’s what made me self-harm,
When I was 17 years old,
Because I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror,
Without breaking down,
And feeling like a mountain was tipping over inside me.

The bullying,
And abuse,
From those close to me,
And those who aren’t,
Are the reasons I am where I am today.
I can’t forgive the people,
Who made me reach this point.