I Thought I Was In Control

It's not about me, it's all about you. Every choice, every decision, every breath is all taken with you unwantedly occupying each and every square inch of my space. I cannot move without you weighing me down, judging me, criticising and suffocating me. I wake you are there, I wash you are there, I go to work you are there. Every shopping trip, every outing and every catch up with friends. I try to leave you behind, I ignore you and fight against you with all of the rage and determination of youth. But, It's not about me, it's all about you. Until you become me and I am you, We are no longer two separate beings. There are no lines between you and I. We are woven into one. Entwined. I live in you and you live in me. Together, 24hours a day. You are my first waking thought and my last kiss at night. Slowly, Slowly I am losing myself to you, in you and through you. Slowly I am dying from within. My mind no longer my own, my body ravaged by your effects, my soul left, wandering lonely and misunderstood. You have become me and I am now you, My identity is yours. People look at me and they see you, people watch me and they judge you. People talk to me and you answer before I have time to reply. I thought I was in control. When this started it was me using you. You were my tool to block out the pain. You were mine to pick up when I needed to feel clean and mine to disregard when the moment had passed. When this started it was me using you. My body was mine, my mind was my own. You freed me. Temporarily, you were my comforting friend. I thought I was in control. Bulimia.