Letters to Past Hungry Versions of Me

What if the thing you called discipline was actually survival? What if the body you spent years trying to control was starving for care the entire time?

We were born hungry. And somewhere along the way, we learned to confuse deprivation with goodness. This is a reckoning with the girls who kept me alive by disappearing.

To every version of me that learned to survive by suppressing hunger, pleasure, pain, and need — I see you now. And baby… we are going to fucking eat.