​I have a history of spending my time with men who are unkind to me.  One after another treated me as if I was not worth much more then sex and passing time.  After years of receiving mistreatment, never did I imagine I would be on the other side of abuse; the one distributing hatred and ugly words.  But here I find myself in an abusive relationship with my body, and I am the abuser.  Our relationship is nothing but unhealthy, filled with years of physical and verbal abuse. I am demanding, controlling, violent. I've made promise after promise to treat my body better, specifically after nights of particularly terrible behavior.  Bingeing until I'm full and then eating some more until I'm clutching my swollen stomach. Running kitchen knives across my wrists until I break the surface.  Letting men use my body for a vehicle of their own pleasure while I fantasize about being anywhere else. Only after 

​I've been many different people throughout my life.  I try on identity after identity, living in each one for a bit and then stripping them off into a discarded pile of my past selves.  I just want to figure out who I am, and so I try on different people hoping one will fit snugly over all my confusion.  But I can't seem to find one that feels comfortable.  And so I keep searching.  I search for words I can use to define myself.  I wish life came with a manual; this is how your life should look and this is who you're supposed to be. I don't know who I am, and so