Dear Ana

Dear Ana

Dear Ana,
When I met you almost three years ago, I thought things would change forever. I had heard so much about you. But, as a person, I ignore the bad and proceed to judge based on the good that I hear. So I sought after you in hopes that things would change in my life. And things did—but because you made them change for me. I should have expected the future that was about to unfold, but I don't like going off of first impressions. The hopes I had had, what I heard could happen—why'd I ignore the warning signs?
Where I started out when you met me, I wasn't sure I could even be friends with you. Those you helped and befriended were nothing like me. I held no future with you, but we bonded. For a while, you were exhilarating and the friendship I thought we had was strong. You whispered in my ear sweet nothings—prospects of the future, showing my family I didn't have to follow in their footsteps. . . I could be stronger. You told me these things. It was a bonus; the icing to the cake I couldn't have. The cake you wouldn't let me have. Evil, you told me. Evil. It'd kill me, and I didn't deserve it. If I wanted that cake, if I had it, she'd leave me. And she'd gotten me so far. Things were turning out for the better, people were noticing the changes. My parents were proud of me for changing my future. I had gained control. I didn't need that cake. I didn't like it. I didn't like anything. Nothing was safe for me. Only those sweet nothings. That's all they were, too. Sweet nothings, Ana, to fill an empty stomach.
But that wasn't enough for you was it? I wasn't doing well enough for our friendship to last. I'd have to change more, you told me. Meat was no longer good. It was revolting. You opened my eyes to that. I had one up on you though, Ana. I didn't quite like meat anyway, and the process by which it's made is barbaric. So dropping it, saving the soul of a cow or chicken. It was worth it. But the fish my dad brought home, you let me have that for a while. I grew up on it. Though I didn't want to lose you, I didn't want to lose my childhood.
No meat.
No junk food.
You gave me safety. When I stumbled and fell, you were there for me. You picked me up and set me off down the rode on my bicycle until you allowed me off. Even after my bike accident, you were with me in the walk in. You told me to deny their requests. I was strong enough without them. You granted me a potato that night for my accident, and an apple because you felt sorry that your doings hurt me. But I'd be unable to do much from that point on. And you took advantage of my injuries. You made me restrict more. But I was okay. 600 was enough to keep me going day by day—the naps got me by.
You introduced me to others like me online. We bonded, and you and me Ana. . . we were inseparable. The blackness that filled my gaze when I stood, I thought of you. I was farther than I had ever thought possible. I wasn't like the girls you showed me yet, or like those you hung out with, but I was close. I was going to get there. Worries from those around me flew over my head because I let you in, Ana.
They sent me to get help because of you, Ana. We couldn't be friends they said. You were bad for me. For the longest time, I couldn't agree. Even now, your friendship is tempting. I know you lurk in the shadows until I crumble. They told me that. But they also told me I'd get sent away from everything I know if we remained friends. I had to go back to where I was before. You couldn't be in my life. You were hurting me, they told me. I struggled to believe them because I couldn't leave a friend behind. . . but friendships have to be a two way street, Ana. You took from me. You stripped me of my body. You nearly took my family and friends too.
How could you? You've gone for the time being, even though those that try to help me say you're still there. They're wrong. I trusted you, and you broke it. My family is more important than you'll ever be, despite what you have to offer. Pain in the beauty—you showed me that. And now I know. I just wish you hadn't left such scars, Ana. Such scars that remind me of everything we went through together. I still have that Hospital band. Did you know that? The one I got from speeding down a hill on my bike as I pushed my legs to their limit and tumbled. But the scars you left aren't all physical. No. Your impression of me has become my own. Your eyes are mine. I see what you see and there's not a day that goes by when I wish it wasn't true. When I tell myself that I can't befriend you again. When I tell myself that I won't leave those I love. I don't love you, Ana. You're my past and I'm my future—but I wish you'd take your eyes back so that you didn't have a part of my future.

With regret, Your Minion.