As I was walking down the street, I figured out that I had a stain on my shirt from my breakfast. I started to panic. I asked my mom if we could go to the bathroom to wash it off. She told me that it was fine and that it was just a small stain. However, I couldn’t handle my emotions. It was torturing the things I was feeling. Anxiety, stress. I just curled up into a ball and cried. My mom eventually picked me up and carried it the rest of the way. Who knew that a little ketchup could ruin someone's day?  
I was a normal child. However, I knew that I was... Different. I always thought people were watching me and looking at me as I walked down the street, silently judging me. But as a kid, I thought everyone felt like this. I tried my hardest to ignore it.  Yet, it stuck with me throughout my childhood. I couldn’t seem to grasp what It was that I was feeling. I tried to just brush it off as normal. I told my parents, but they told me it was normal that I felt other people watching me. So, I tried to believe that what they said was true. As I got older, I Realized that I was terribly wrong. I soon comprehended that people don’t think the way I do. If I feel something is wrong with me, I immediately think people are judging me and talking to me behind my back. I had to fix that small problem, whatever it was. My few friends told me that it wasn’t normal and that no one cared that my hair wasn’t brushed as much, or my shirt had a tiny hole in it. I still couldn’t help it. I couldn't control my thoughts. 
To make it worse, I had a terrible case of social anxiety. I tried to avoid all social situations at all cost no matter who it was. I couldn’t raise my hand to ask a question, ask someone for a pencil, or even ask for directions. I felt like whatever I did, people would judge me on how I said things my voice. I had to be perfect to talk to them, and in my mind, I wasn’t even close to perfect. I 
 can't even imagine what would happen if I just asked a store employee where the bathroom was. I would stutter and shake for absolutely no reason. I would burst into tears by the time I got to the bathroom.  Being an adult hasn’t made it any better. With more stress like money and having to take care of yourself, has driven me insane. I tried to be normal shaking it off with an “I'm fine” mask on. But the truth was, I wasn’t fine. I was dead inside. I wanted to do something to help, like try doing normal things like talk to someone I cared about or just have fun. Go on a date Hang out with friends, but I can't do any of those things. I had to think of something else. 
It was even worse at school. I barely had any friends. Just 1 or 2 friends per class. During lunch, I sat in the back table by myself, listening to music. I prayed every time that no one would notice me. My friends sat with their other friends, so I couldn’t sit with them. And even worse, I was bullied. People called me loser, ugly, and fat. I couldn’t bear even coming to school. It was like torture. To make the bullying worse, everyone that was friends with me got bullied. So, I never got to hang out with them. When I got home, all I would do is cry. Not having any friends, made me bored. I had absolutely nothing to do. I was an only child, so I couldn’t just hang out with my siblings. Even if I had siblings, they wouldn’t want to hang out with me. With nothing to do, I took my life to my studies. That was all I did after school and on the weekends. I was on the honor roll, HA, and valedictorian. I was the smartest in the school. But I still didn’t have any friends. I still hated school. Coming home for an average person would usually be fun, eating a nice meal, seeing your parents, and hanging out with some friends. However, when I came home, I hated every second of it.  
I came home to terrible food, and barely anything for us to sleep on. I was terribly poor to the point where I was in a terrible state of mind. I lived in a small, cheap, apartment with loud neighbors that kept me up all night. I wanted to move to a nice house in the suburbs, with tons of friends and a normal, happy family. All I had was an alcoholic and abusive father who yelled and hurt me physically. My mom worked 24/7 just to get our bills paid. I knew she loved me, but I only got to see her almost 3 times a month All I had to eat was cheap greasy fast food. I hated it. I wanted a nice home cooked meal like stew or even a salad. I knew that my father was always too drunk to even cook. Sometimes, he wouldn’t even come home. I would get scared that he got lost somewhere, or even dead. He has been arrested for more times than I can count. I stayed in my room for most of my life.  I felt isolated and alone all the time. I had no adult to look up to, or even take care of me. I knew I couldn’t keep living like this. But there was nothing I could do. I had to live in unstable conditions, with an abusive father, and a fear of loneliness.  
Usually, when other people need to get de-stressed, some of them resort to a more humane way. Like having a little drink with friends, listening to music reading a book. Overall just having a break. However, some people resort to barbaric ways of living. Like drugs or alcohol. I knew that I couldn’t do things like that. So, trying to be a normal person, I tried meditation. And to my amazement, it had worked! I was barely stressed! I still had anxiety, but that helped a ton! I felt amazing! Though I felt, wrong. I felt amazing, yet I knew I was sad. I didn’t think that de-stressing would help me with my self-image. I thought being happy was somehow annoying to people. That somehow people will think less of me. So, my self-esteem went down the drain. I felt like I was less of a human being. I had to make myself better somehow. That was the night it all went spiraling downwards. 
I looked in the mirror and immediately noticed many flaws. I had a pimple on my forehead, greasy hair, and what I thought was the worst, I was fat. Now in my head, I was obese. But in reality, I was probably only 160 lbs. Thin for a girl my age. However, for some reason, I thought I looked, well fat. Normal people would go on a diet, exercise. Not me. I had to make myself look thin immediately. I decided to change my diet. Eat a little less. Instead of 3 meals a day, I was eating two. I decided to have instead of 1,500 calories, I was taking on 500. Maybe not little changes. I still wanted to live. Of course, it had its flaws. When a couple of weeks passed, I started to notice a few things. I got skinny. Really skinny. Yet I still wasn’t happy. I was down to 100 lbs. now.  My entire diet was just 3 small things like an apple a sandwich and other fruits. It didn’t take long before other people started to notice. I would get strange looks on the street. It was worse than before. I knew I had to stop. However, this was an addiction. That meant that I couldn’t stop. I can't stop. The hunger made me feel even worse. It made me feel empty. Sometimes, I didn’t eat anything for the day. I wrote down everything I ate and the calorie count. I always looked over it at the end of the day. It looked something like this. 
DAY 1: 
Cereal: 120 cal 
Sandwich: 20 cal 
Roasted veggies: 30 cal 
But things just got worse from there, 
DAY 50: 
Half an apple: 10 cal 
Half an apple: 10 cal 
Water: 2 cal 
 
I was driving my car home after a long day of work. I was hungry, as always. But I already had my “fix” for the day. So, I came home and laid on my bed. I felt a weird tingling feeling. Thinking nothing of it, I continued reading the book I had just started. It happened again. And again. Every single time it happened it got worse, and worse, to the point where it got painful. I didn’t know what it was, so I drove myself to the hospital. It was still happening. When I got there, the pain was like a knife. It got to the point where I couldn’t walk, or talk, or move. Just then, I blacked out. I couldn’t remember anything. Just waking up to bright lights and people. They told me I had a severe malnutrition problem. I was too scared to say anything. Not just because of my social anxiety. I sat up and felt it. The same pain in my stomach. “you have to eat more food.” The only words that stumbled out of my mouth were, “ok.” I Asked for some food. I was terrified. I knew I couldn’t eat. But I had to survive. The brought me a big plate of all different kinds of food. Like steak and mashed potatoes. I couldn’t eat it. Of course, I had to. I picked up the fork, but my hands were to shaky to keep it steady. The nurse grabbed my hand and helped me guide it to the mashed potatoes. I scooped out a little bit and took a bite. As someone who hasn’t eaten normal amounts of food, it tasted like heaven. I did the same thing I did. Scooped some up and put it in my mouth. I finished the plate. I was happy to have eaten a full meal. I was finally not hungry. And hopefully won't be in a while. 
It has been 3 years since I have been under 100 lbs. I have gained weight since. I have been seeing a therapist for my social anxiety. Being like this has changed me a lot. Not only do I feel healthy, but I am also healthy. I must learn to think that I am healthy. By not only eating and exercising. To have a healthy body, you must have a healthy mind. Being happy is my top priority to have a happy life. So far, I have been happy with my body. I have gained 95 lbs. Since the hospital visit. Living life as healthy as I can is my key to life. I exercise every day, eat veggies and protein (I treat myself every so often.) and so far, have kept reaching for my goals. Today, I live with my boyfriend, and our two wonderful pups, Alaska, and Honey. We live in a wonderful apartment in South Carolina. I have overcome my social anxiety along the way. I am happy with myself, and my body. so 
I want to put all the bad stuff about my life behind me. My therapist told me that writing about my problems will make me feel a lot better and will help me forget about the bad stuff and remember the good in life. I felt doubtful that this would work. And to my surprise, it did. I wanted to end this on a good note. I wanted to help other children that dealt with my problems. No kid should be put through the trauma and pain I felt in my life. No child should feel empty.