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I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can’t even move – no pleasure at all. All I do is to cry myself to sleep. My body’s trembling; shaking hands, ice cold feet. The dizziness running up towards my head, the feeling of sickness coming through the wrong direction; the fear of retching myself, but still the desperate hope of getting it all over with. Eyes filled with tears of disease in my corpse-white face, and my freezing lips. With red circles around my eyes, I look around and ask myself “Will this ever stop?”
And all I pray for now is for God to stop this sickness; the wreck he has made me into these days. For my fear and anxiousness of ending up on the bathroom floor, 4 o’clock in the morning having it all up and done --