About a month before my 16th birthday, my friend texted me asking if I was ok. My facade was slipping. It wasn’t that I couldn’t lie anymore, just that I was too tired of everything to do so. So instead of typing back ‘Of course!’ with a smiley face, I said ‘No. I think I have an eating disorder.’ She called me and I talked and cried and explained how though I wasn’t suicidal, I just didn’t want to get up in the morning. Ever. Or that I wish I would fall and hit my head and die or something. The next day, at school, I was called up to the guidance office. My friend had reported me. I really can’t blame her, to be honest.
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