Fix me.

I am told I don’t need to be fixed. That there’s nothing wrong with me, nothing wrong with how I was unfortunately made. But I want to be fixed. I want it in the deepest depths of my soul, I want it with every single fiber of my worn-out and utterly exhausted being. My illness transforms my wants into desperate needs anyway, like Jekyll turning into Hyde. It is a monstrous transformation because it reaches farther than simply my wants and needs. It alters who I am on a fundamental level. The switching back and forth is constant. And right now it feels unceasing and relentless and frightening in a way words will never be able to capture. I want to be fixed. I need a fix.

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||Coffee enthusiast, lover of books, Disney fanatic, planner addict. I like inspirational quotes, stationary and pens and stickers, taking/saving pictures of things that make me happy, and writing about nonsense. Rainbows are my favorite things. I think tattoos are awesome, and I want to get more. I'm going to publish a book about my having conquered anorexia one day. || I am here to properly document the lessons I'm learning as I journey to self-fulfillment. I'm trying to figure out my life, which is proving to be tougher than I thought it would be. But I'm determined to find the positive in this situation. And I will not settle for anything less than happiness and success. || It takes rain to make a rainbow!

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