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When I was 12, the doctors diagnosed me with Anorexia. That was about 8 years ago. (Yes, now you know my age, you mathematical genius you.)
I've been in and out of treatment centers about 6 times since.
At times, the notion of recovery creeps through the crevices of my mind and plants itself tentatively on the fence, wavering, tethering, nudging at me.
I toy with it sometimes. But more often than not, it stays unnoticed.
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