At 15 I started telling myself how fat and worthless I was.
At 15 I stopped eating for two months.
By the age of 16 my thighs were covered in battle scars.
At 16 I learned what it was like to pray every night that I wouldn’t wake up to see the sun.
At 16 I swallowed a bottle of pills and had my stomach pumped in the middle 3rd period.
At 16 I woke up in a hospital and crying and screaming because I wasn’t dead.
At 16 I was told my depression and anxiety were just cries for attention.
At 16 I learned what it was like to feel the rejection from the people who are supposed to love you unconditionally.
I learned what it was like to feel the love my parents used to have for me drain out of their eyes.
So I maybe 16 but I feel like I am a thousand years old. I have fought battles you cannot even begin to imagine.
I have endured years of relentless torment and taunts, and when I asked for help I was told I deserved it.
I may be 16 but I have endured more than you ever have in your 36 years of life.
So I may not have to pay taxes.
But at 16 I have anxiety attacks over the piles of homework I have to turn in the next day.
I may not have to worry about feeding my kids.
but even after 2 years of rehabilitation I still get depressed if I eat too much.
So you tell me;
“You’re 16. What do you know?”
And my answer will always be;
“Far too much”