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Yes, it is shocking to me to think about the things I thought and the things I did. I sobbed over pizza, wore heavy sweaters to fool a scale, baked protein bars in an oven and pretended they were cookies. I thought that I could never get a job, that nobody would love me as long as I was fat, that I would be like this forever.

On the other hand, some of those things still happen. I still wish every day that I were thinner. I dream about being able to do it again, only better this time. Some days I cry for no reason at all other than that I am consumed with hatred for myself and want nothing more than to rip my own skin off of my body. Last night, even. I did that last night.

It is easier to think that they are two separate people, that I am not the girl who once took so much Adderall on an empty stomach she thought she was going to have a heart attack. There was a time in my life when everyone knew about my eating disorder, but now I am surrounded mostly by people who either know it only as a passing fact or not at all.