I was thirteen the first time I took notice of my body. My girlfriend had left me without citing a reason. I had taken a bath, grabbed a towel and caught myself out the corner of my eye. I have not unnoticed since. Not a minute that passes that I do not consider my physical form. I scour my image in every reflective surface I see. I cup my biceps with my hands. I pull at the fat around my midsection. I do not remember much between the ages of thirteen to sixteen. My weight rapidly decreased. I do not remember when I was formally diagnosed but I know I was. I isolated myself, threw school lunches into the bin. Snuck off to the bathroom during class to do push-ups and sit-ups. I only ate to be observed eating. It is an illness or trauma or condition that has pushed me towards addiction. I have fluctuated between binge-eating then purging, to fasting for days on end. I have ranged from 49 kilograms to 102 and have undergone the paleo diet, the Atkins diet, the ketogenic diet, vegetarian diets and calorie counting. I have taken fat burners, weight gainers, amino acids, creatine and carnitine. I have spent thousands of dollars on various pills and powders. I have ingested salt water to de-hydrate myself. I have slept to skip meals. I have thought long and hard about ending my own life. 4u is a collection of poetry about that. 4u is also a collection of poetry about everything else. It is about the solace found in the love of others’ bodies. It is about God and language and how both have failed us. About the fear of death and the fear of life. The fear of loneliness and the desire to be alone. It is about how our bodies and their interactions are commodified from within and without. It is about the briefest moments of grace wherein we become each other. The moments when there is no weight to us. 4u is a dedication or a gift. A giving over to or a sacrifice. An attempt to communicate myself to the world. A bunch of words that are without meaning and completely empty. It is 4u.