I love my illness
and I am pretty sure
that it loves me too.

No I am certain
that beyond any doubt
my sickness is the only
true love that I have.

But I do worry and doubt
that it may be the only
love I ever find.

I love it because
maybe it will lead
to another life where
others will love me too.

I'll be able to thank
my one friend for making
all of this possible
for letting me find
others that will
like me for me.

Even if others
never know
that it was really my friend bulimia
that let me
finally be loved by them.