19.0 a letter to myself

(◞‸◟)

11h of december

my therapist suggested that I write down my feelings, my progress and my relapses in a diary so I can look at them whenever I need to.

I told her writing a diary sucks.

so she said I could just write letters to my past and future self. or to myself in general.

so, yes. I really like that idea. though, it might be just as cheesy as writing a diary.

well, anyway.

hi, minho.

I'm at the dorm again. since five days. it's the usual. changbin yelling and seungmin teasing, felix baking and chan walking around half naked. definitely an upgrade from the hospital, huh?

I haven't weighted myself yet, but it's pretty clear that I have gained weight. I complained about it to felix once, but he told me I was crazy and that I looked just as skinny as I was before. I think he's lying.

isn't it crazy? I almost died and my peacock brain is still telling me to keep going because I'm too fat. I'm kind of sick of hearing this voice in my head whenever I look at myself. chan told me to talk to him. I might.

minho was shivering in that bathroom. he was freezing. one good look at himself in the mirror and he could see what he had become in the past few weeks.

he took one big breath and released it, shuttering. then he scoffed. this wasn't one bit therapeutic. he was going insane. he had lost it.

all he was able to feel for the past weeks was anger. real, crushing anger, which pushed him even further away from everyone. his secret was openly laid out on the table and the only reason why was because he couldn't even keep it to himself. this was pathetic.

he had gained weight. it didn't even take a look into the mirror too see it - minho felt it in his skin. the way his thighs touched, how his stomach became soft all over again, how his chest ribs had disappeared.

was it possible to gain this much in just a few weeks? probably. minho felt it himself, after all.

god, he was so tired. so tired of being forced to eat, even more tired of being forced to leave the food inside of him. he was being monitored not only by the staff but also by the other members. all he wanted was to waste away, but they wouldn't even let him do that. it wasn't like he was someone important to begin with.

important.

that was a laugh. as if he had helped stray kids in the past months. all he did was whine and cry and bring the group down with his ugliness. a member of stray kids? they all probably wanted him gone.

why did they help him back then? if only jeongin had just let him stay there and bleed his guts out until his heart stopped beating.

... jeongin.

jeongin who visited him in the hospital almost everyday despite their hectic schedule. that angel.

well, it didn't matter.

maybe he could freeze to death in this cold bathroom.

minho didn't want to die, no, he was just too tired to be pierced back together. too weak. too cold.

no, he didn't want to die. that was what he needed to tell himself in order to not break down at 3 am at night when he felt his stomach bloat from the food he wasn't able to purge.

his therapist told him it was normal - his body was used to throwing up now, used to not being able to digest anything. it would start to become fairly normal soon again.

but that was hard to remember when minho felt like he was about to explode.

it was like that today, too.

just a few minutes ago, he was laying in bed, stomach hurting and aching, minho turning around every few seconds, tossing his sheets off him just to get them back on because he was freezing so badly. why was he even freezing if he was eating so damn much?

when another piercing pain shot through his abdomen, minho had to bite his lip to stop himself from from crying out. it hurt, it hurt. he turned around again, a weak whimper leaving his mouth like the pathetic little kid he was.

this went on for the next twenty minutes. minho just stayed silent. jisung was in the room next to him, he was the last person minho wanted to see right now. chan maybe. but not jisung.

so all he did was bite his bottom lip until he tasted blood - his stomach churned and minho gasped as he felt hot vomit start to come up his throat. he was able to swallow it down, but tears still dwelled up in his eyes. he was so close, yet so very far.

another ten minutes later, minho stumbled out of his room, holding his stomach, knock kneeled and ready to drop.

all he could do now was to look at himself in spite and hope he could somehow get the courage to throw up again.

"I'm so fucking fat", he spat at his reflection. it just stared back, black eye bags, pouting mouth. it didn't answer, but minho imagined it laughing at him, answering with a hint of mockery. at least you know the truth. you're fat. huge. ugly.

the words kept going, crushing minho down as the cold bathroom tiles began to make minhos bones shake. you're fat again. fat. you'll never be okay.

another whimper left his throat. minho hated seeing himself to weak, so incredibly out of control. couldn't he just risk it and purge once more? maybe his esophagus could rapture again and he could finally be over with it.

he didn't want to die. minho didn't want to die. he'd just rather die than be fat again.

minho bit his lip as his stomach rumbled painfully again.

who was he kidding? he had been wanting to drop dead for the past few months.

maybe he should. he was alone. nobody was there to stop him, and even if, minho had the feeling they were just as oblivious as they had always been. they would find him in the morning, hanging dead over the toilet seat, covered in blood and vomit.

god. minho grimaced as he thought about himself looking like that. with a fuzzy head, his knees gave up and he sat on the ground.

"hey".

minho almost missed it, but the faint voice of chan could just so be heard through the door. instantly, minho straightened his  back, ignoring his cramping stomach as his eyes travelled to the locked door.

maybe minho could just stay quiet and hope chan didn't know he was in here. the last thing he wanted was company right now. minho couldn't even deal with himself.

"minho? you're in here, right?".

but yet again, who was he kidding? the light in the bathroom was bright and chan could clearly see minhos open bedroom from where he was standing.

"what do you want?", minho answered with a hint of annoyance in his voice. his patience was wearing thin, the constant pain and sleep deprivation was driving him insane - hardly to mention that the thought of gaining weight made him want to rip his skin off.

if minho was feeling uncomfortable in his skin  back then, then this was absolute torture.

"what are you doing in there?", chan whispered back, not commenting on minhos answer. "can you open the door?".

no,Iabsolutetlycannot.

"okay".

but when minho lifted his hands to push himself up at the sink, he found himself unable to get enough strength to push himself back up. his heart sank to his knees as his legs started shaking the more he pushed himself to get up.

"fuck", he cursed with gritted teeth. "god fucking damn it".

"everything okay in there?".

"yeah- chan wait-", minho panted as his stomach suddenly felt like it was about to scrunch into the side of a peanut. "wait a sec".

somehow, he was able to stand on one foot, then on the other, and minho huffed as he leaned onto the sink, panting a little as his stomach seemingly grew to the size of a watermelon again.

it took another few second for minho to catch his breath until he stumbled to the door, opening it with a force he didn't know he had in him at the moment.

in those few seconds, all the thoughts that were going through minhos mind seemed to be replayed at once.

he was standing in front of bang chan, completely drenched in sweat, feeling like shit. he just wanted to kill himself. he couldn't even do that. now he might as well just smile. nothing had happened if nobody found out.

"stop doing that", was the first thing chan said to minho.

"doing what?", minho cocked an eyebrow.

"smiling like you're in an interview", chans eyes flung from minhos smiling mouth to minhos dull eyes. "I know that smile. it's practiced".

minhos smile fell at once. another pause settled between them.

"you woke me up". chan stated, quite bluntly.

"sorry".

was minho even supposed to apologise? not his fault chan was a light sleeper. he bit on his lip to suppress an eyeroll.

"what were you doing?".

minho crossed his arms, not breaking the eye contact. "pissing".

"for thirty minutes?".

"real long piss, yeah".

chan cracked a small smile, minhos heart ached as he saw the tiny wrinkles form around his eyes. "that's a lie and you know it".

minho hummed. "guess so".

"so? what were you doing?".

was there any point in lying? if chan flipped out and stormed away, minho had all the time in the world to kill himself. sounded like a plan.

god. he was so tired.

"thought about killing myself", after a deep breath, minho added "kinda".

on that, chan just stared. to minhos surprise though, his expression didn't harden, didn't soften nor get sad. chan just held the eye contact with minho as his face stayed neutral. minho broke the eye contact and looked at the ground.

then chan just sighed and a dead silence fell over them. before minho was able to take anything he just said back, already wishing he had never opened his mouth in the first place, chan stepped forward and pulled him into a hug.

minho wasn't yelled at, wasn't called a selfish prick, but instead just held close and comforted. the tears fell on instant.

though he tried to keep quiet in order to not wake the others, minho couldn't help but mutter little "I'm sorry's" between his sobs while chan was stroking gently through minhos hair. chan was a lot warmer than the floor tiles. he was a lot nicer to lean onto.

"no, no, don't say that", chan whispered into his ear. "you have nothing to be sorry for".

minho sniffled and dug his face deeper into chans hoodie. "I'm so stupid", he muttered, his voice quiet in the fabric.

"you're not stupid", chan said as he pushed minho away a little just to cup his face in his big hands. minho couldn't bear to look at him right now - not that he could anyway, considering that his vision was blurred by tears. chans thumb stroked away some tears on minhos cheeks, but they just kept coming. "you're just hurt right now. it'll take a while. but that doesn't make you stupid".

there were a thousand words minho wanted to say right now. he wanted to argue, he wanted to tell chan that he would never be okay again. he wanted to let him know that he had already given up, that there was no point in trying, but just another sob emerged from his throat as he fell forward again, into chans arms as his knees gave up.

they sank to the ground together, slowly. minho was still in chans arms as they sat on the floor - the younger of them faced the darkness of the floor while chan was facing the light of the bathroom.

minho was biting his lips a lot lately. they were  dry from the constant dehydration and cracked open many times already. it was just a pathetic try to stop crying and chan immediately caught up on it. was there anything left to hide by now?

"if you're sad, be sad. you need to cry, so do it", chan said. "I know you don't like to be seen as weak, and though crying doesn't make you weak, just know I won't tell anyone".

minho felt his lip wobble again. there was a big lump in his throat as he stared at the floor.

"you're cold".

chan was right. minho was shivering. he wasn't sure if he was because he was cold or because he was crying or maybe even because the realisation of the fact that he was so incredibly vulnerable right now hit him. the realisation of how much would be changing in the future. irreversibly.

another tear slipped down his face.

"I'm going to gain all the weight back...".

chan was rubbing circles on minhos back. "yes, you will".

the words were harsh, but his tone wasn't. minho knew it was the truth and that was all he needed right now. he had been lied to long enough now. he deserved a hint of truth at least.

"you'll gain weight. but you'll also gain happiness back", chan continued when he noticed that minho didn't answer. "your hobbies, your friends. you'll gain your life back, lino".

happiness and eating disorders can't and will never coexist.

that was the harsh truth minho needed.

"I want this to stop", minho breathed out. he was so tired. but he knew that if he laid down on his bed now, it would take him hours to sleep again. no matter how many blankets he put on himself, it didn't change the fact that his life lacked warmth.

"it will. and I'll help you".

you can't help me anymore, minho thought. he leaned his head into chans shoulder again, looking to the side to make sure that chan couldn't see his face right now.

maybe it was an illusion, but the floor behind chan looked even darker than usual. it was, in a way, calming for minhos brain. no bright lights to burn his eyes, nothing to focus on. he felt his eyes become heavy all of a sudden.

"I promise", chan said and minho shut his eyes.

he could believe him for this moment.

15th of december.

dear future minho.

you like sunsets.

I'm going out a lot with hyunjin lately. we've changed our routine from leaving our house when it's dark to arriving at a nice place to watch the sky when the sun sets.

all the colours make me feel good. it sounds so incredibly stupid, but at the moment this is the only thing that reminds me that my heart is still beating, because it makes it beat faster. it makes me feel at ease. just for a moment. it's the only part of the day that I'm looking forward to.

I wake up and want to stay in bed, I want to cry and hide and stay away forever. it's the the thought of the evening that's making me open my eyes at all. sunsets are the reason why I'm still here right now. I'm holding on to the pretty colours in the sky that vanish after a few minutes. it's bittersweet.

when you're sad, or when you're thinking about doing something to yourself, wait for the evening.

you'll feel it.

"do you think I'll ever be okay?", minho asked. the colours in the sky had reached their peak by now. it was awfully cold, but the red-purple sky seemingly made minho freeze a tiny bit less.

hyunjins eyes were sparkling with that exact color as he looked over at minho. sitting on the bench next to him, he leaned over and rested his his sharp chin on minhos bony shoulder with a fond smile and slightly arched brows. minho couldn't help but look over at the beautiful boy next to him. he looked a little silly, but minho couldn't take his eyes off the sky that reflected in his eyes.

"I don't think so", hyunjin answered. before minho was even able to react to the sentence, hyunjin lifted his hand and put a dark strand of hair behind minhos ear. "I know so".

minho smiled and turned back to the sunset. it was slightly darker now.

"I want to draw you like this".

minho chuckled. "you only draw beautiful things, though".

hyunjin turned his head so he could look at the sky while still resting his head on minhos shoulder. the thick jacket minho was wearing was enough to make minhos shoulder less painful to lean on.

"I'll show you the picture when it's done".

17th of december.

so, minho.

eating disorders are heavily linked to depression. they can coexist just fine. it's a fact.

I've seen depression before. when felix was diagnosed with it earlier this year, it really shocked me. depression doesn't look like depression. it can look like felix, who smiles and dances and giggles all day.

still, I didn't think I would have it. because depression is such a slow, crushing illness. it makes everything so incredibly slow, while my eating disorder made everything pass so incredibly fast.

I think before I started to develop this illness (I guess I have to admit to having it now), I was, kind of, depressed? I don't know.

I was sad because I couldn't see my family, sad because I didn't have time for myself, sad because I was tired. but when it was night and I had time to cry, I couldn't. I was numb.

I hated this feeling. that feeling which wasn't one at all. maybe the eating disorder was a distraction from everything that had been going on. but again, I don't know. I have to figure this out. I guess.

21th of december

Hi, minho.

I haven't purged since that incident. it's crazy. in both a bad and good way.

that means I'm healing, right? I like to think that because it still feels like I'm so extremely deep in this shit.

I feel like if I get better too fast, too soon, then I haven't suffered enough. like I wasn't actually ill and just pretending to be for some attention.

I feel like I need to get a little bit worse again. otherwise I'm not valid.

Minho would like to say he didn't mean to, but his relapse just a day later was totally planned. kind of.

christmas was an especially rough time for him, considering that most presents were made of chocolate and other various sweets and felix and hyunjin decided to bake cookies whenever their schedule gave them time to do so.

at times like this, minho craved control even more than ever. the desperate wish to succeed to deny every food someone gave or offered to him was painfully unbearable and minho failed just one day before christmas.

minho felt sad that day, for no particular reason. the lights in the rooms were just a little dark that day maybe, or the fact that it wasn't snowing yet made him a little sad. maybe the way the lights reflected off the cars that night made him melancholic. either way, he couldn't help but walk around with slightly glossy eyes all day.

right before christmas, the company didn't give them a schedule, but there wasn't enough time to go home since their schedule started on 25th of december again. all there was to do now was to act like the magical time of christmas actually felt magical to minho, who really just wanted to lay in bed and drown in his own headspace all day.

he lost track of time first. when he laid in bed for seemingly five minutes, an hour went by and when he laid in bed all day, the clock hand had barely moved at all. the day went by awfully fast while the night lasted forever. he couldn't sleep anyway.

but like always, minho demanded a routine. he needed to get up at eight, needed to have breakfast at eight thirty and had to have a cup of black coffee before nine. but without an actual schedule, minhos plans only lasted for about two or three hours and as soon as he had free time, his mind had enough time to play worst-case-scenarios in his head like a cd player. he desperately needed something to do.

he also needed to get his mind off food somehow. the third coffee and the fifth tea couldn't satisfy him anymore after two pm and minho found himself standing in the kitchen with sweaty hands and a slightly clouded mind.

like usual, he couldn't simply refuse to eat. it was easy if there was no food available at certain times, like in the hospital, but if minho knew there was food, there was also no stopping.

he tried to only eat one brownie felix made. damn him. he always made them so freaking good. okay. two wouldn't hurt. but this piece was tiny. a third one? okay, as long as he stopped after this one. oh. he already ate it. maybe if he walked around the block a fourth one was alright. but those two pieces are sticking together. might as well eat them both.

when minho finally came back to his senses, the whole tray of brownies was empty. minho almost reflexively stumbled back a few steps as he looked at the empty tray in front of him.

oh no.

no, no.

no!

no way he just did that. what the fuck was wrong with him?! there was no way he could hide the evidence of this binge, not to mention that he felt so incredibly full that he could barely walk.

this was a mistake. he was a mistake. this was so fucking embarrassing.

felix would be disgusted. the others would be disappointed. minho was just a burden for the team again. he felt like crying.

but there was no time.

he had to punish himself for this dumb mistake.

now.

it felt like he was just wobbling around as he walked to the bathroom, carefully swallowing down the mush of brownies that already threatened to belch out of him. as quiet as he could be, minho locked the bathroom behind him and walked over to the toilet, kneeling down in front of it.

it was an awful deja vu. the floor felt just as hard as it always felt, maybe a little colder now that it was winter. it looked the same, of course, and minhos fingers slightly trembled as he lifted two of them and placed them on his tongue, not yet pushing them back into his throat.

he would do it again. just once. maybe twice if this happened again.

oh, of course he wanted to heal. but this was necessary. such a fuck up was unacceptable. even if he was recovering right now.

it's not like he was recovering voluntarily anyway. he'd rather be pretty than healthy.

this was fine. even though the bruises had finally healed and his fingernails finally stopped chipping, this was okay. he'd just have to pray that his throat was fine after all this time.

whatever. I'll just waste away, he thought and pushed his fingers back. the insides of his stomach left his mouth on instant.

this was a routine. eat, purge and clean. eat, purge and clean. he would do it all day if he could.

after minho stood up and flushed the toilet, went to the sink and cleaned himself up, looked into the mirror and checked how he looked like, the corners of his mouth lifted slightly.

then his frown turned into a smile, then into a grin and finally, minho started laughing.

he thought about how the others would react to finding out he relapsed, imagined how worried they would be, but ultimately told himself  that they wouldn't need to care because they wouldn't know. he just laughed.

he laughed because there might still be a chance for him to continue, to get worse. he laughed so hardly that he had to hold his stomach for a few seconds.

then his mind swiftly swayed back to the moment of minho laying in his own puddle of vomit and blood on his own birthday and minhos smile fell. as if he came  back to his senses again, minho just stood there, catching his breath and feeling the tightness of his stomach release. the floor tiles were cold and unforgiving, pressing into minhos soles. he closed his eyes and just saw a picture of himself on the brick of death.

minho wondered how he should feel right now. happy because he could hide from the others again? horrified because of his relapse? sad? mad?

he tried to feel any of those emotions he thought about, the good ones and the bad ones, but the more he tried to feel them, the more he tried to keep them close, the faster they slipped through his fingers, dragged away by a breeze of numbness overpowering his body.

this was like the punchline of some sick joke.

24th of december.

to my future pestiferous self, you suck. Here's why!

there was no need for minho to get up today. he was tossing and turning in bed all night before, leaving him groggy and tired the next morning. getting up was even too exhausting to think about.

after yesterdays incident, minho lost all excitement for christmas whatsoever. it didn't matter that the others had decorated the living room with various lights and other type of bling bling, it didn't even matter to him that they would soon be giving each other presents. if he could, he would just skip christmas entirely. he didn't feel like putting on a facade today.

especially since his body still hurt. after he finally cleared his mind and the numbness slowly faded away, anger overtook his body pretty soon after. minho couldn't help but ball his fists and hit his thighs over and over again. he had to let his anger out somehow. he hit and hit and hit and hit until his arms felt weak and his legs were numb. then he just sat there and stared, a hurricane of black hair and guilt.

felix or anyone else didn't mention it. they didn't ask about the brownies, didn't tell minho how they were disappointed in him, and honestly minho didn't know if that was worse. that meant they all collectively knew and just decided to keep their mouths shut. the tiny voice in minhos head had laughed at him. they all decided that it's not worth talking to you about it. you'll do it again anyway.

so, instead of doing something, minho was tracing over a hole in the wooden part of his bed, around and around, with the tip of his finger. he had never seen this hole before, but now that he knew it was there, it annoyed him. how did that even happen?

"hi".

he left the door open earlier, too exhausted to close it after pushing himself up to get a glass of water. jisung was standing at the doorframe. minho ignored him.

"hey".

how did this hole get into his bed?

"hey, what?".

jisung stepped into the room and minho frowned.  he didn't want to talk to him. he didn't want to talk to anyone, but especially not him. god. annoying.

jisung was nervous - minho could tell by the way jisung was fiddling with his oversized sweater. minho couldn't give less of a crap.

"wanna watch the sunset with me?", he asked and minho looked up - it was as if he was zoned out until now. 3:48 pm. the sun would set soon.

he had been laying there for seven hours now.

"hyunjin told me it makes you happy, so I figured we might-", he continued, but minho quickly cut him off.

"don't feel like it. you can go".

jisung stiffened a little and he was frowning as if he wanted to cry. "you'd go if it wasn't me who asked".

"dunno", minho just shrugged and then turned his gaze back to the hole in his bed.

he wasn't necessarily overwhelmed by everything, it was just that everytime he was around jisung, he felt like he was walking on glass. and especially now, feeling his tight skin, he felt overly sensitive, overly tender. he wanted to yell at jisung, tell him to go away, he wanted to stay in bed and wanted to drown in self-pity, just for the day. he wanted to cry. he wanted and wanted and never got. and if he did, it wasn't enough.

"you still hate me, don't you?", jisung simply asked. the question was daring, but jisung sounded like he desperately needed to know.

so, minhos answer was deadpan. "I told you I don't hate you. that doesn't mean I'm not still mad at you".

a silence fell over them. minho traced over the hole again.

jisung sighed. he was defeated already. "will you at least come out and celebrate with us later?".

minho shrugged again. "don't know. maybe".

"why are you being like this?", jisung asked and minho had to stop tracing the hole.

he paused, wondered if jisung was actually clueless or just acting like he was, and decided to just shrug. "like what?".

"so- so-", jisung thought for a moment. "so distant. it's worse than before".

now that's funny.

when minho chuckled, jisung looked completely dazzled. he looked hurt, but what jisung just said was too amusing.

"worse? I've been worse, I'm telling you that ", minho sniggered, turning his attention from his bed completely to jisung.

"but I thought you're getting help", jisung answered, completely oblivious to how stupid he sounded to minhos ears.

"so?".

minho had to chuckle again.

"do you even want to get better?".

minho couldn't stop laughing. it wasn't so funny when jisungs bottom lip slightly quivered, but he had to hear how dumb he sounded!

"better? do you hear yourself?". jisung didn't understand. he couldn't understand - and minho knew - but minho also just couldn't feel sorry for him.

"we're all trying to help you, minho. is that not enough for you?".

minhos heart was beating inside of his chest so loudly, that he had to take a deep breath to calm himself down.

"you know what, no, fuck you", was the answer that made jisung take a step back. "just because you care about me now doesn't mean I'm instantly cured!".

oh, and there was that look again. like he was growing devil horns. jisung looked like minho had just told him the worst secret on earth, but really, he just explained what all of them should already know. he didn't care anymore. they knew, no need to hide it. he was mad, he was furious, and minho was too worn out to hide it anymore, so he let out a little bit more.

"it's not like you cared when I was in the hospital, you know. you could've visited me. you didn't".

the tears that dwelled up in minhos eyes weren't tears of sadness. they were tears of anger, tears that built up on frustration months and months ago.

"I cared-", jisung choked out. "I cared- I promise. I thought you never wanted to see me again. it's so complicated", jisung took a deep breath. "it's so fucked up".

"you don't care".

"I do! I always did. and I'm so fucking stupid for not showing it, it's my fault, it's-".

minho didn't want to hear it. he didn't want to hear any of it!

"you don't care!", he yelled. at some point, he must've sat up, considering that he was looking straight at jisung now.

"I do", jisung took a step forward, tears dwelling up in his own eyes. "trust me, please, more than anything, I care".

jisung came even closer. minho started to cry. he wanted to be alone.

"you don't care about me!", he cried, begged. begged because that meant that there was no reason to get worse again. because there was someone to care, there was someone to stop him. he couldn't get worse if there was someone who cared - jisung would help him anyway.

"I do", jisung kneeled down, as if he was talking to a fucking child, and took minhos hand.

"you don't", minho breathed out. he couldn't handle to look into jisungs eyes. he knew they would embrace him into a hug he didn't want.

why did he need to cry everytime he talked to jisung? why was it him that always saw him crumble?

"you only cared when I looked like shit and you can't have that in a group of idols, can you? you fear that my looks would bring the group down, don't you, huh?!".

it wasn't jisungs fear, it was minhos. it was just a lot easier to blame jisung for now. minho still cried, and jisung started to cry too, though he looked a lot more shocked than sad. minho was so tired of arguing.

"that's what you think?", jisung breathed out, wiping a tear on minhos cheek away. "god, minho, no. I would never think that".

minho screwed his eyes closed and curled up a little.

"you're not just an idol, minho. you're a brother, a son", jisungs voice was thick with tears. "fuck, minho, you're my best friend and I'm so fucking sorry that I didn't notice earlier. I was being stupid, not visiting you was fucking horrible and that's on me. totally".

minho didn't know how to answer.

"and I won't leave you again. I won't let you fall down this hellhole again, ever".

this was it.

all those months of hell built up to this singular moment, that moment minho wanted so desperately. to be cared for, to be held and to never, ever be let down again.

oh, and it hurt, it hurt so much. minho crumbled, his hands held by jisung, who watched him cry and sob on this oh so magical day.

but this was what he wanted to hear, and as if jisung had a plaster for minhos whole body, minho felt his tight skin loosen a bit.

it actually made him feel seen for once. valid.

"just tell me when dinners ready", he mumbled, lightly squeezing jisungs hands once, just to feel them a little better.

jisung smiled.

... I know, I'm mean to future me.

I might have problems.

I tried to hate jisung back then, I really did, but I can't. I can't when he is trying to so hard to better himself, I can't when I remember that one of the the biggest parts of my eating disorder was to avoid anyone finding out. it's not my fault, but it's not his either. I guess, for now I'm just happy he's here.

merry fucking christmas.

1st of january

dear minho,

the stars are so beautiful tonight.

at about 4 am the fireworks finally stopped and the sky was smoke free about half an hour later. minho and jisung were the only ones that were still awake, laying on the roof terrance side by side. the stars were truly beautiful, shining brighter than minho had ever seen them shine before.

"you see", jisung broke the silence. "this is what it's about. life can be real shitty sometimes, but it's moments like this that make it worth living".

minho chuckled. "you're being sentimental".

he heard jisung giggle next to him. "maybe".

a shooting star flew over their heads. minho wished he could grab it out of the sky and give it to jisung.

"I'm scared of what this year might bring for me. for us", minho admitted after a pause.

both of them didn't look away from the sky.

"I think it'll work out somehow. you always figure it out", jisung answered calmly.

maybe the stars were really brighter than usual.

"always?", minho asked.

"always".

20th of january

dear past minho,

I'm bloated.

not fat.

it feels too crazy to say it loud, so I'm writing it down, but just thinking those words in my head is totally nuts. in a very, very good way.

it's not like I don't hear this mean voice anymore, it's still here every day, but I feel like it gets better from time to time. there are ups and downs, sure, but the realisation of me just seeing myself differently is kind of... freeing? I might think differently tomorrow, shit, maybe I'll throw this paper in the garbage in just a few hours, but it was nice to see a glimpse of my actual self again.

19th of february

dear me,

I got revenge.

it's crazy seeing a lady cry after she destroyed your life without batting an eye.

chan told our manager about the incident with miss jung and after looking into it, I'm not the first one she told absolute bullshit to. apparently she's known for making idols feel like shit.

the ceo told her we don't need sick idols, we need people that can perform. she was fired yesterday.

I couldn't help but laugh when I heard the news. it was overwhelming and in a way totally freeing.

tough luck.

3rd of march

I want to be needed.

I need to be wanted.

felix was a great guy to talk to. he just listened, didn't give unwanted advice and didn't make you feel like you talked too much. minho really appreciated his presence.

"... and before I knew it, I couldn't get out of it", minho finished his sentence as he sipped on his juice box. it wasn't a low calorie one. it had 43 calories per box, actually.

a few months ago, minho wouldn't even have looked at it.

"crazy", felix said and then quickly continued with a sheepish smile. "not that you're crazy, of course", they both laughed, "just that this shit inhales you without you even noticing".

"it's because it wasn't always bad", minho said, thinking about the euphoria weight loss used to give him. "that's how it becomes toxic. it's not always bad and that's what covers up the shit".

felix nodded and reached forward to grab minhos favourite chocolate bar and gave it to him. minho just looked at it.

"you don't have to eat it yet", felix assured him. "if you feel ready, you can".

minho just ever so slightly shook his head, but felix saw it anyway. he placed the chocolate bar next to minho, who took it, not exactly sure what to do with it yet. he might eat it, he might throw it away. he might just place it on his table and wait for the right time. then he smiled.

"sorry, I just still need to get used to treating myself well".

a silence fell between them.

"can I tell you something?", minho asked. felix immediately nodded.

"I feel like I haven't suffered enough to be ill. I feel like I'm getting better too soon. too fast. I feel like I'm just doing all this for attention sometimes", he finally said one of his notes in his diary out loud. it really felt weird saying it.

felix frowned. "why do you think you have to suffer in the first place?", he asked, not really wanting an answer. "you suffered alone all that time, how would you get attention like that anyway?".

minho swallowed. this sounded reasonable.

"it's okay to be okay, minho. that's our goal. you don't need to be ill to be valid".

felix said this with such honesty in his voice that it wasn't even possible for him to lie. he didn't sugarcoat it, he didn't say this to make minho feel better. this was the truth. minhos tongue turned to ash and he just stayed quiet.

"you're not just beautiful, you're human and you're valid. always. please remember that".

later that day, minho finished his first plate in months without feeling guilty.

6th of april

advice for my future self:

mental hunger is real. especially for you. that's fine, it exists, so you can eat without feeling abnormal. I know, sounds crazy, but trust me, yeah?

again, you're bloated right now. not fat. just wait.

not everyone will understand you and that's okay. your illness is almost invisible.

feeling fat doesn't mean you are. fat isn't a feeling. crazy, isn't it?

you're not your eating disorder.

eating disorder are hypocrites and liars. don't believe a word it says.

no food is worse than an eating disorder.

again, happiness and eating disorders can't and will never coexist.

there's no way you could ever regret staying alive.

you're loved.

minho picked up the chocolate bar felix gave to him and ate it.

27th of april

dear minho,

I want to relapse again. I haven't thrown up or actually avoided a lot of food since that incident. I shouldn't get better this soon.

1st of may

dear past minho,

shut up.

you know you don't want to relapse. you don't miss your eating disorder. you don't miss the worst time in your life. you just miss being familiar with something - you might miss the high the hunger gave you. the rush. the adrenaline. but you don't miss your eating disorder. never.

some days are worse than others. some are okay.

on some days minhos only wish is to fall back down into this rabbit hole and never even try to get up again. on some days it's so bad, he thought about quitting his idol career and locking himself away in his room forever. those are the days that stay in his memory longer than the good ones. his brain just liked to hold on to the things that sucked, he figured.

sometimes minho was laughing so wholeheartedly that it made him forget about all the shit that had been going on. he forgot about the half eaten chocolate cake in the fridge that he couldn't purge, forgot about the scale that he hadn't touched in months, and just laughed. like he was actually okay.

it's been going better.

sometimes all he could think about was food. he wanted that pie. he wanted those noodles. he wanted to eat both of them and then order another burger. it was all he could think about, it was almost like he could taste it on his tongue.

eating normally required training again. it would surely take a while.

but it had really gotten better.

sometimes, not always, he could stop when he was full. he could feel that he wasn't actually hungry anymore and just stop. there wasn't the inner pressure of not knowing when his next meal might be. if there even was one.

it had actually gotten better.

he wasn't mad all the time anymore. he wasn't irritated when he heard jisung talk, he wasn't frustrated as soon as he couldn't get a dancemove right. his voice didn't crack anymore - it started to heal over time. his hair was a bit more shiny again. his knees weren't as weak as they used to be.

his thoughts didn't change as quickly.

he still saw hyunjin as competition every now and then. whenever hyunjin danced and minho couldn't figure out how, the inner spite in minho always tried to make its way to the top.

don't try to act like you're better than me. you're not.

and he couldn't help thinking those mean things whenever he saw someone else eat.

couldn't be me. I'd never eat such crap as changbin. I'm better than him.

he knew he wasn't. nobody was worse or better than him because of food.

but he couldn't help it yet. those thoughts just appeared, like a routine and by the point minho acknowledged them as bad, they had already vanished again.

every now and then he managed to shut them up. whenever he did that, he remembered what chan told him.

chan always managed to tell when something was wrong with minho. he could tell by the way minho walked, by the way he held his phone. shit, minho thought chan could even tell by the way minho was waking up in the morning.

"what are you thinking about?", chan asked as minho stared at his phone, not really doing anything. he had posted a selfie of himself earlier. the worried comments were almost completely gone. was that good?

oh, and there were chips on the table. not that he wanted them, of course.

"nothing".

after a bit of thought, he continued. "food? I don't know".

"are you hungry?", chan gestured to the kitchen. "we still have leftover chicken".

"I want chips", minho voiced his thoughts, but his hands didn't move to grab them. "I cant though".

chan raised an eyebrow. "why?".

"I could tell you the calories for everything we have in this kitchen. after months I'm able to memorise such things, you know?", minhos gaze went to the chips. "chips are high cal".

"so?", chan sound genuinely curious. unknowing.

"so I'll get fat".

are you sure?

"I know it's stupid", minho answered his own question. "it's just kind of- I don't know. chips aren't safe to eat".

"who's saying that?".

minho blinked. that was an oddly specific question.

"uh", he started, trying to figure out how not to sound crazy while talking about an eating disorder voice in his head. "it's weird to explain. it's like intrusive thoughts that tell me I'll gain weight if I eat the wrong food or tell me I'm huge when I look into the mirror", minho closed his phone. "they're kind of my thoughts but also not".

without missing a beat, chan answered.

"you know, I do this with that voice in my head that tells me I'll fail", chan chuckled as he pushed the plate with chips towards minho. "whenever that voice tries to bring me down, I just tell it to fuck off. helps a lot".

minho giggled. his hands were shaking as he lifted them to grab a chip. "fuck off?".

don't eat this, dumbass. you'll be fat. you are already fat. are you fucking dumb?

"yeah", chan puffed his chest up like a chicken. "hey, yo!", his voice got slightly louder. "this box full of chips will not and can not make me fat! fuck off!".

yes, it will. you'll be all jiggly and wobbly.

minho laughed. not the kind of humourless laugh, but he laughed because for the first time while hearing this voice, it genuinely sounded stupid.

"okay, okay", he put the chip in his mouth and chewed. it actually tasted amazing. "fuck off!".

12th of june

hi, minho

at some point there's no "actual" progress anymore.

I don't get all excited or extremely anxious about chips anymore. it's not a super abnormal thing for me to not drink 0 cal energies anymore.

sure, I still have my dumb ticks, like not eating takeout food yet or refusing to buy that extra yummy, extra high calorie chocolate spread for breakfast.

but it doesn't actually consume me as much anymore. I can deal with those ticks as long as I don't think they're normal. I know why I do things and why I don't and as long as I don't let them overtake me again, as long as I don't stop fighting, I'm okay.

I know my battle is far from over. but I'm not alone in it.

summer was like a warm shower after a long, freezing winter night for minho. and he welcomed it with a sigh of relief.

he wasn't cold anymore, eating popcorn and watching a movie together with jisung was completely normal again.

that was what he had missed. it was so small, the movie was kind of stupid, but hearing jisung snicker every now and then, feeling the warm summer breeze on his face as the wind entered the dorm through the open windows was what he had missed. those little things were called life. that was all living was about.

he would've missed all those summer nights in which he ate ice cream together with hyunjin, talking about anything they thought about at the moment. he would've missed the countless pink sunsets he started watching with jisung, too.

minho ran a hand through his hair and looked at it. no hair was stuck between his fingers.

yeah, this felt good. this was nice. being alive actually didn't suck as much as he always thought.

if going through such darkness was the price of seeing the light shine even brighter than before, then minho was absolutely willing to pay it.

1st of july

dear past minho, present minho and future minho,

I have no idea what to do with my life. genuinely.

I might start to focus on myself, take a break and just enjoy the evenings with my friends. I might just continue as it is. it's both fine with me. I've got time for both.

I'm happy right now. I feel warm - and not just because it's summer again. I feel warm inside.

for the past months, I learned so much about myself. I would even say I started finding myself again, piercing myself together day after day.

it's okay to break sometimes. because we aren't plates that stay broken once destroyed. I like to see myself as a puzzle, which just shows a slightly different picture once put together again.

living is always worth it.

you know, whenever we're sad, we tend to forget. the bad moments seem bigger than the good ones and we forget that there's light behind feeling dead - aimless without care.

at times like this we just need a moment to remember. that's what time is for. to breathe in, to breathe out and let the moment pass.

"what the?", minho laid his pen down and looked out of the window. a snowflake flew inside of his room and landed on the paper he was writing on, dissolving right away. snow in summer? how was that possible?

another snowflake landed on the tip of minhos nose.

it was oddly peaceful, really.

do you think you're ever going to be okay? the voice snarled again.

"yeah", minho closed his diary. "I'll be alright".