Everyday you're fighting it, battling it, struggling against it.

You're at war, and you're losing.

It follows you everywhere. To school, to work, to home. It never ever leaves you alone.

You've tried everything to lose it, physically and even mentally.

It never works.

Every time you shoot at it, it only strikes back harder and harder until you can't stand the pain.

It tortures you to the point where you can barely breathe and you find yourself on the ground wishing you were under it instead.

And how you yearn for that release, how you wish to be rid of this thing, this thing that has been trying to break you to bits for as long as you want to remember.

Your worst enemy.

But to break would be to give up, and to give up means to lose.

If you lose, you will be ridiculed for years to come, people will remember you as the failure you've always been.

But if you win this war, you'll no longer be a failure. You'll be a hero. People will look up to you. You'll be the star you deserve to be.

So you're going to keep fighting.

Even though everything you try seems to go down the drain.

Every day its attacks get worse and worse, to the point where it makes you sick to your stomach and you find yourself leaning over the toilet as you feel your last meal leave your body.

And even then it's standing right behind you, teasing you, telling you what a fucking coward you are.

And even though you would never admit it, you agree with it completely.

You hate the feeling when you walk into a room, and you know everyone's staring at it. You know they're talking about it when they think you're not listening. You've heard the whispers.

All it makes you do is fight more.

So you're going to keep fighting until the very end.

Even though you know you can't win.

So every morning when you wake up you're going to run to the bathroom scale and look in the mirror and cry some more.

Don't you see it?

You're your own worst enemy.