Natalia Mejia Stroligo 9th Honors Literature 24 January 2018 Title    Ana, you were my sin that I never thought I could confess. A sin that ate at my conscious by the fictitious war that you created with food.  A war that I lost constitutionally because you manifested my mind with your voices echoing abominable thoughts. Thoughts that would strip my happiness to fulfill yours. You were my eating disorder, Ana.     I met Ana when I began to look in the mirror and only wishing for a lithe body. Mirrors became my enemy because every inch of my body the I hated was plastered across that reflection. I would wish that skin would hug my bones so tightly that the bones contoured my body. I wished that the unwanted fat that clung to my body would unzip itself to unmask the perfect body I longed-for. Ana, at first told me to let go of unhealthy food; however over time it escalated. She manifested my mind with the obsession of counting calories, and that obsession later turned into fear of calories. Every spoonful of food the enters my mouth a deep sense of regret came with it. Therefore, Ana told me that if I didn’t eat I would be much happier in the future and I believed her. I began to find satisfaction in rumbling noise my stomach created as it ached for food.  Knowing that I didn’t eat were the many triumphs of Ana. Her other triumphs were when I was able to talk my way out of a meal and lying to my parents about what I ate. Lying to my parents would only cause a burden of guilt, but seeing those numbers drop on the scale was more important. The feeling that rejoiced within me when numbers dropped became the most important thing to me. My weight began to define me and I wanted to rewrite my definition, and Ana told me she could.     One night I grabbed a midnight blue box that faintly read ‘Family Photos’ and as I began to look through it tears streamed down my bare face; I noticed that every photo I was in an inexplicable amount of joy reflected off of me. I was laughing like I had no care in the world, where everything was just blissful. I found a photo of me at my birthday party, and I was dancing in midnight blue dress with white detailing outlining the bottom and a pair of pastel yellow shoes. Seeing that little girl dancing as a ray of sunshine hit her caused a wave of emotions to come. That picture brought happiness, misery, indignation, but mainly envy because she was something I was not. She was happy; a feeling that was unknown to me. She was like the sun, she was bright and brought warmth just by her presence; however, I was a cloud that covered that sun. At that moment I knew I wanted to get help because I didn’t to be the cloud covering her sun. Therefore I stepped off my bed and suntanned through the hall into my mother’s room as tears rolled down my face. I saw her, and my whole body fell onto the cold floor as I whimpered, and allowed her arms wrap her arms around my fragile body. Her hands moving up and down as she whispered, “You’re okay,” continuously.     “Mom I need help,” I murmured in between each breath I took as I cried.     My mom would always tell me that people need people because without people we would have to fight battles alone, without an army. I never understood what she meant when I was younger, but now it has become my law of life. Everyone has their own battle they are fighting, and to win an army is needed. I understood that I did not need to fight my own battle alone, that it was okay to ask for help. I thought to ask for help made me feel like I was not strong enough, that I was weak; however, asking for help is the strongest thing one can do. And I wanted to be strong.