Someday I’ll get better. Someday I won’t feel guilt after every meal. Someday I won’t need therapy. Someday I will have even a shred of confidence. Someday I won’t hide behind “I’m fine.” Someday I will finally feel like I belong. Someday it won’t hurt to smile. Someday I will say I love myself and mean it. Someday I won’t have any lingering urges to pick up something and harm myself again. Someday I won’t feel like I’m bleeding everyone around me dry. Someday my parents won’t always watch me like a hawk. Someday I’ll have no need to make excuses for all of my appointments. Someday I won’t let food control my willingness to attend a social event. Someday I won’t whisper mean comments to myself every time I look in the mirror or see any part of my body. Someday I won’t spend so much of my alone time crying. Someday I won’t feel broken.

I was always holding on to someday, but now someday isn’t holding on to me.


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