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Why I am here.

Not why am I here, but why I am here. It's a thought that constantly races through my mind. I see myself as imperfect, so misguided. I look at things the way I'm told to see them until I discover the truth behind opinions and facts. This all is in regard to the simple note that I am insecure with being who I am.

So why am I here? Everyone around me seems to be living their own lives. Given that, why should mine affect theirs? Why does my existence even matter? Despite always being as polite and kind to others as I could possibly envision, I always feel like others dislike me or are annoyed by my presence. I grew up quiet in a household with four other siblings. We all were taught to be "nice." We weren't allowed to bring guests over for my mom's personal choice to keep the home private, but in doing so I always felt at a disadvantage growing up and never having a birthday party or the opportunity to invite anyone (that I potentially could want to be friends with) to come over and hangout. I still feel like I was bred to be lonely. My siblings the same. My parents were the only version of a parent I could imagine becasue I grew up with them, and I am thankful to have had them in my life. But what still bothers me is not that my parents raised me the way they did, but my parents neglected to give me the opportunities other kids my age had. I never played a consistent sport or joined any activity because my parents encouraged me to. In fact, for monetal reasons, they often discouraged me from doing any form of after school club that required their time or money. I felt like that stereotypical "loser." At the young age of adolescence, the popular stereotype applied to the avergae kid consisted of Little League practice, movie nights, hanging out at friends' houses, and just being a kid. At that age, all I focused on was being the role model student; getting good grades, looking into Student Council, and abandoning a social life to make the adults in my life proud. Little did I realize I knew no better. I didn't seem to catch on to the fact that pleasing my parents would lead me to being a well respected individual, but also a tortured soul. I never once realized when I had been bullied until a few years ago when I had a wake up call. I had never realized what I was doing to myself. I may have been a 'model student' but I was on a path of self destruction. I developed an eating disorder the summer before eighth grade. Unlike what many people tend to believe, I had no idea what I was doing to myself. I had grown up thinking that exercise and diet was healthy to maintain a healthy body weight. I was obese as a child, so of course I wanted to shed the extra pounds if a meant a positive change. I had walked for two miles everyday during summer vacation, and I had developed a pattern of "Spit and Chew." To begin with I ate fewer than 800 calories a day. And when I was hungry, I would chew up food for the flavor but then proceed to spit it out to avoid all the calories. I was strict in exercise, hardly doing anything except throw around a volleyball in my backyard or run through the neighborhood. I lost 60 pounds in two months. I went from 180lbs to 120lbs. It was a drastic change and although I noticed my old clothes were much looser, I had no idea I looked any different.

High school came a year later. I weighed around 140 by then, and maintained an average body weight. But my anxiety developed along with my depressive thoughts. I

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