Ataraxia
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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Mon, Aug 11, 2014
I slowly sat up and leveled myself with the world, everything seemed so gloomy through my eyes these days. My cold feet touched the equally cold floor fumbling for my hospital slippers, slipping and sliding the slippers around, i finally got the opening and placed my feet in them, they aren't what you'd call 'comfy'. I steadily stood up and immediately winced in pain as the shcok from the floor filled me. I crimged with everystep towards the end of my bed. The pills were so close, just a few more steps. I couldn't make, I sat back down and had a little cry, then took a few more cringing steps to the bottle.
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When you're stuck inside a layer of skin you never asked for, what does the soul do? It cries out in poems and pictures, and words that have so much meaning to anyone if they look hard enough. It winces in pain every time the pen hits the paper and shouts in agony every time the mirror is reflected upon a burning face. This is a collection of me. My eating disorder, my depression, anxiety, my thoughts, my words, my pain. If you've ever wondered what it was like inside the mind of an anorexic, a bulimic, a chronically depressed woman, here is the answer. A memoir written by me. There is no specific order you should read this book. Choose a random chapter from the table of contents, and read. Take a little in, leave a little out. ****** There is a major trigger warning for almost every story in here. If you are sensitive to numbers, or ideas or anything of this matter, this book may not be for you.

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