How are you today? I’m fine. I’m always fine. Because how can I tell you that every morning I fight with a monster that hugs my body like a snake, refusing to loosen its grip, still never forgetting that I have to breathe. My body sits at the table. Hands moving up and down, faster than my mouth ever could, as if they want to block the airways. A sip of water goes straight to my lungs, creating a pool which is drowning me inside my own body. Words are passing by without being written down. Sweet as sugar until the heat rises. Then they become hot caramel, burning and leaving scars. Every day is the same, a never-ending loop of suffering, played over and over like my favorite song. And when night falls, I let the monster take my body, hoping he won’t drag it back into the loop. Don’t worry, I’m always fine.