The A Word

Anorexia.

I admired that word for so long.

If only I could be that, I’d be perfect.

I’d be thin, and I’d be miserable: all I ever wanted.

But when they sat me down in that hospital wing and they showed me the list of my official diagnoses, I read:

Anorexia nervosa, restricting type

And I was miserable, and it was not what I wanted.

I had dreamt of being that word.

Now I wish I had never heard of it in my life.

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