"I did not like to be touched, but it was a strange dislike. I did not to be touched because i craved it too much. I wanted to be held very tight so i would not break. Even now, when people lean down to touch me or hug me, or put a hand on my shoulder, I hold my breath. i turn my face. I want to cry."
Marya Hornbacher (wasted: A Memory of Anorexia and Bulimia)