And when after seven years of binging, barfing, cutting, starving, and rage, and loathing, and terror and medical scares and personal failures and loss after loss, when after all this, I am twenty and staring down a vastly abbreviated life expectancy, and the ED/SI still take up half my body, half my brain, with their invisible eroding force, when I have spent the majority of my life sick, when I do not yet know what it means to be "well" or "normal," when I doubt those words even have meaning anymore, there are still no answers. I will die young and I have no way to make sense of that fact.

I have this: I could be skinny.

Whoop-de-fucking-doo.

~Adapted from Wasted by Marya Hornbacher