Dear body,

We’ve not been on good terms, have we? When did it go astray? For the longest time, I’d always had an adversarial relationship with you. Or rather, I always treated you as my slave, and that you should always listen to me, the master. It’s not the best way to keep an ongoing relationship, for sure.

Early on, you were strong, silent type. And giving. Waaay giving. You let me had my way, like a parent giving way to his child throwing a tantrum. And man, did I like throwing tantrums to you. If I wanted to eat something bad, play video games all night, or win a race, I always pushed you to the limit. And as I grew older into an adult, that became the standard operating procedure, didn’t it? I loved pushing your boundaries, and you always gave. And gave. And gave. And I always enjoyed the fruits of your labour to myself. Alone. 

But now, your protests are getting louder. Your tone more insistent. Your methods more convincing. I sure learned my lesson after the surgery last year. Heard you loud and clear. Actually, you had been doing that frequently in the last decade, right? You were turning 40, but I was still living like I was in my 20s. I just never listened. So stubborn and wilful. Now I live to regret it. And the road to healing is long. 

I’d really love to heal our relationship, and for the first time in decades since our teens, get to know you better. Listen. Defer judgement. Act on your advice. Enjoy doing stuff together. I’d like to finally catch up with you on age, and be 40 together. No, in fact, I should be 10 years ahead of you, so that I can help prepare us for the future that will come. So that it’s a future that we will savour. One that is free of ills and pains. One that is worth living. 

I’m sorry for all that came before. I really am. Let’s start anew, shall we?