For a very long time, I hated you. I hated the curvatures and the freckles that you were made up of, and I couldn’t stand how you kept growing taller than the other girls in my grade. For a very long time, I was ashamed of you. I was ashamed of the way your hips were too wide. I was ashamed that my shoulders were too broad. I was ashamed of the shape of your face and the width of your stomach. I was ashamed of every inch of you.

Too many of our memories together involve me standing you in front of a mirror, pulling at your flesh in despair as I wished that you were skinnier, as I wished that you were something you weren’t. I let my mind be taken with the idea of looking like models on the television, and I was so busy thinking that their bodies were beautiful; I allowed you to think you weren’t. Today, I want to apologize for the nights that I let you cry yourself to sleep. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how beautiful you are. I’m sorry I spent so much time hating you.

I would make promises to you every new year, I would tell you that this year would be different and then it wasn’t. I continued on hating you, being ashamed of you. I spent so many days slouching down, wishing that you were smaller, that I didn’t realize how frail you had become. At some point, I seem to have forgotten that we are one. To hate you, was to hate myself and hate is a force that can never hope to bring about change.

Recently, I’ll stand in front of the mirror and I’ll tell you that I love you. I’ve started sending you to the gym every day, not because I want to change you, but because I want to take care of you. There are days when I hate you still. There are days when I curse you for not being perfect. Those days come less frequently though. Recently, there are more days when I can see progress in you. Where I make myself remember that you are the only body that I will ever have, and that hating you is only going to make our life together miserable. Some mornings I stand before the mirror and I fall in love with the curvatures and the freckles that you are made of.

Our story is still going, the pages still turning, and as we come further to the end I have come to realize that I have nothing to be ashamed of. You are strong. You have overcome so much adversity. There have been days where I have felt like I could die, but you continue breathing for me. You have scars, so many scars, but they have never stopped you from protecting me from the cruelties of this world. Throughout my twenty years of life, you have not once left me to face it alone.

One of the first things you have to learn about writing is that you can never make things happen too suddenly. Events require smaller events that eventually build up to the climax. When you write love stories you’ll find that love at first sight is far too boring. Love comes after you truly get to know another’s heart. I know your heart. I know that you keep it beating so that I may continue my life, no matter the harsh water I may be treading.

Thank you for sticking it out with me.