I'm the bruises on my legs, the bumps in my spine. I'm the ribs in my chest and the hips poking out. Despite all this, I am the fat on my stomach and the numbers on the scale; the fleshy skin on my arms and thighs that beg me to slice. Who am I? I'm the pathetic little girl who cannot fight the demon in her head.
Or maybe, just maybe, the demon is me.