My eating disorder (let's call him Ed) and I go way back. We first met when I was 13, a mere middle-schooler. Middle school is a tumultuous time for everyone, you're just old enough to begin finding yourself and questioning your place in this world, yet still young and impressionable. You're starting to feel the societal pressure to label yourself and "fit in," but you're too innocent to know where to start.

This is when Ed entered my life. In this time of confusion and self-awakening, he gave me an identity, the elusive intangible object that every budding teenager so desperately desires.

You see, I was always the "different" one in my circle of friends. While they came to school covered in makeup and with not a hair out of place, I was more concerned with my grades than my appearance. While they had countless boys swooning over them, I had my head in a textbook. While they were willing to skip class and hang out behind the gym, I was carrying my materials for all eight classes around with me all day so I didn't have to waste time at my locker and risk being tardy. We were polar opposites, and, as you can imagine, this led to some heavy bullying, especially because I wasn't quite as slender as all of them were. They would intentionally leave me out of sleepovers and post all about them on Facebook, huddle together in the hallway and laugh loudly while staring at me every so often...you know, the typical middle school girl teasing tactics. So why did I remain loyal to them, you might ask? The answer is simple: because they're all I had. In middle school, having bad friends who pretended to like you was still better than being a loner, but the funny thing was that I felt more alone and lost than ever. That is, until I met Ed and we became best friends instantly.

It was one morning towards the end of the school year when Ed introduced himself to me. I'll never forget how sweet he was. I was pouring myself a bowl of cereal for breakfast when I heard him whisper in my ear. He said, "You're very pretty, Katie. But I can show you how to be even prettier than all of your friends. Just pour half of that cereal back in the box. Let me help you."

Prettier than my friends? Really? It seemed like an empty promise since they were all so gorgeous, but Ed seemed to know what he was talking about. And he was so, so proud of me when I did what he asked. My friends were never proud of me for anything. Ed stayed right by my side throughout every meal, making gentle suggestions like swapping fried chicken for grilled or skipping dessert. He even offered to be my workout partner! Three days a week, we'd meet at the gym after school and run together. He was such a good motivator, constantly whispering in my ear to run a little faster or go that extra mile. Every time I felt that endorphin rush afterwards, I was so grateful for having him in my life. He was the best friend I'd always wanted but never had, and he promised to always be there for me as long as I returned the favor.

A few days later, Ed introduced me to calorie counting. He told me I'd be surprised to see how caloric some of my favorite foods were, and boy, was he right. Instantly, things like cake, pizza, chips, and all drinks other than water were off limits. I was a bit upset about having to give these foods up, but Ed reminded me how healthy and pretty I'd be if I stuck to lean meats and vegetables. I wanted to make him proud and not lose him, so I held up my end of the bargain we made. After I'd gotten the hang of counting calories, he had me weigh myself every morning. The first time I stepped on the scale, I was elated to see I had dropped ten pounds since my doctor's appointment a few months prior. Ed was very proud of me, but cautioned me not to get too confident because there's always room for improvement. What a good friend, logical and caring enough to keep my head on my shoulders. He started convincing me to workout with him five days a week instead of our usual three, telling me that my friends and family didn't want to hang out with me anymore, that he wanted me all to himself. That I couldn't tell anyone about the special bond we had because they might try to break us apart. I had never felt so loved and wanted by anyone before. He was so much better than my lousy school friends. He cared about my well-being. He wanted me to be beautiful and perfect. God, how I wanted to be perfect.

Before I knew it, another ten pounds were gone, putting me at 90 pounds. Everyone at school told me how good I looked; asked me what my secret was. I was running for two hours a day, five days a week, and eating only a few leaves of romaine lettuce and some carrot sticks for dinner. Every time Ed told me I was slacking on my runs or eating too much, I cried and vowed to try harder the next day. I couldn't let my best friend down, the only person who was there for me through it all. The only person who thought I was beautiful. I was addicted to the praise he gave me when my weight dropped and equally addicted to making it up to him when he wasn't satisfied with my progress, which was often. Nothing I did was ever enough for him. But he was all I had, so I listened to him.

Before I knew it, I was down to 77 pounds. When I went to the doctor for another routine check-up, I was worried when they started talking in hushed voices. Did they know about Ed? Were they going to take him away from me? When they returned, I was diagnosed with Anorexia Nervosa and told I had to be rushed to Texas Children's Hospital by ambulance before I went into cardiac arrest. My mom had tears in her eyes, and it was then that I saw Ed for who he truly was: a manipulative liar. He begged and pleaded with me, told me that I still wasn't perfect and that he just wanted to help. But I was done listening to him. He was no better than my friends at school - he pretended to like me to get what he wanted, which was my life. So the day I got admitted to the hospital was the day I broke up with my eating disorder, and I haven't looked back since. He rears his ugly head every once in a while, but I manage to silence him every time and move on with the beautiful life I've created without him.

If you or someone you know is struggling with an eating disorder, please visit this website. Nobody deserves to suffer in silence.