tape → narry au

1 → panacea

Panacea:
a solution for all difficulties or diseases. A cure for all ills.

Problem, I'm not too fond of that word.

The word problem seems to rupture humans. That word, in my opinion, seems to separate the 'average' from the quote-on-quote troubled.

I'm very sure people that suffer or are labelled with a problem, and/or problems, aren't crazy. I'm not crazy and I'm positive of my statement.

So what?

So what if my hair is too long for the average boy, or my sexuality isn't what others prefer?

So what if I'm not dedicated to brushing nor combing my hair and that leads to the minor tangles hidden within it?

So what if I'm a male whom happens to be suffering from EDNOS?

No one cares. Except for my mother.

That results to why I'm here: standing in front of a large cabin. Watching my mum register me to live in the middle of the woods for the next four months. Because of a problem. My problem.

My problem is the worst and I'm only allowed to say that.

Only because I've been suffering from an eating disorder for the past three years and none of my treatments have actually helped me. Instead, the multiple talks I've had with various therapist prior only caused my disorder to worsen.

Once before my therapist said I if I wanted to starve, I should try starving the healthy way. Another therapist told me if I feel fat I should cut down on food.

At least she agreed with me.

I knew deeply that their advice weren't the very positive. I also knew their advice would damage my body even more but quite frankly, I didn't care.

Their suggestions were a help. A big help for me to lose weight. Weight I didn't and still have no use in needing.

But the suggestions, I used them more than a daily need apart of a routine. My therapists advices were my excuse for everything.

After my mum heard the excuses she freaked. Rambling to me that nothing will ever work if I don't try. Try to stop worrying about adding more calories upon my weight. And I honestly couldn't argue with her on trying because I don't try.

What's the point of trying anyways?

The process of trying to explain your situations to others and they have no understatement whatsoever.

That happens to me constantly and I've grown use to it. Accustomed to people, most likely my therapists, never bothering to actually hear my story out. I just needed at least someone to hear my story for once.

Someone whom would actually hear my story, not just listen, but actually hear me. Get to know and understand me for me but that'll never happen.

However, my mother differs. She thinks enrolling me into this program I'd come out a better person. And that's what we're not agreeing on.

It's too late for my opinion anyways.

We're already here and I'm already registered into their system. Whilst my mum's never felt more determined.

Dedicated for me to return home a different Harry from the one she's use to seeing for the past three years. But, I have a guaranteed feeling I'll be the same Harry within the four month period here.

The same Harry that'll restrict food for important reasons. The Harry that'll only take in a handful of saltines along with tea because of the lesser calories. The Harry that'll continue to suffer from an eating disorder; my eating disorder in general.