We used to battle everyday. We were on the same side, but it didn’t always feel like it. You said you hated me. You said it more than once. You asked why I was doing it to you, why I was pushing you so hard. Sometimes I wasn’t fair, I’d hold back myself hoping it would convince you to do the right thing. I used the love I knew you had for me against you. I hope you know why I had to do it.
Then the battles started to get less frequent, they were skirmishes really. The threat of a fight rather than all out war. I still pushed you, but you were pulling yourself along too. You had more strength than I ever could. It left us bloodied and battered, but you dragged yourself out of that war zone. My love, you ate. You survived. You lived.