I was a 12 year
old girl.
I learned, the hard
way, that my parents
would leave me behind.
I’ve held onto the pink
stuffed armadillo that I
got before my parents left. 
I’ve heard my parents
talk about sending me back.
I lost all hope on trying to
get better by myself.
I’ve held onto the fact that
I could, but now it’s
hurting me.
My friends don’t
understand
what I go through everyday.
I’ve had so many people tell
me, just eat and
everything will
be okay.
I tell you over and
over again that I am
trying to get
better, I just can’t.
And I have been
trying since the day
this all started.
I experienced what
not many 12 year
olds experience.
I experienced what
not many 12 year
olds experience.
Over and over
until the day I left.
I’m still scared about
going to another
hospital.
I once became snotty with
my dietitian because
I didn't like what she was telling
me to do. 
I once rolled my
eyes at my doctors who
were just trying to
help me.
I once pushed a
worker because they
were too close to me.
And only once I
said ¨I hate you¨
to my parents in anger.
I’ve driven through Milwaukee, WI.
I have had small panic
attacks because of what
that place did to me.
I’ve given up on this
problem I have.
And I’ve often lost
friends because of it.
I’ve been scared
to going back to
that hospital.
I have been in
another hospital
since then and
I’ve felt happy in
that other hospital.
I have a happy story about
being in treatment.
I am a 17 year old girl,
who at 12
experienced
something no one
wants to experience.