I was walking back through the park and there were a couple, hugging, on the path in front of me.

His head was bowed on her shoulder; her hands were clasping his back, so tightly that I could sense the strength; and I wanted, as I side-stepped around them, to scream.

This is what the eating disorder stole from me.

That kind of hug – and that kind of union – is what it stopped me from enjoying; and has put so far away that the distance feels too vast to bridge.
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