I’m feeling quite sad. I found out my friend, Mary, lost her battle with Anorexia and passed away. Mary and I were good friends in treatment. Mary was a little naughty in the hospital and was not allowed to be away from the nurse’s station, so she always asked me to join her at the table and to play Uno with her. We talked a lot, and Mary would always make me laugh. She was spicy and colorful. She would make fun of the staff and the doctors till I was in stitches. Since treatment, I had seen Mary at the support groups. She looked sickly and frail; I told her I was afraid for her. A few months ago the group therapist told Mary that if she didn’t get better she would die very soon. I remember Mary shaking her head in acknowledgement, saying, “I know. I know.” But I don’t think she truly believed it. If Mary knew then why didn’t she get better? Most of us with eating disorders never think we’ll die from them. “That won’t happen to me”. Mary is proof that it can happen. When I found out Mary had died I sobbed so hard I surprised myself. So many questions went through my head. Why Mary? Why not me? Why did Mary let this happen? Why am I so special that I can recover but Mary can’t? Why couldn’t I stop Mary from dying? Why wasn’t it enough to have so many people rooting for her and wanting her to live? But I know the answers to those questions. At least some of them. When I am deep in my disorder it isn’t enough that people care about me; the only thing important is being in my disease and seeing how far I can take it. I know that nothing I could have said or done could have prevented Mary from dying, but I would like to believe it. What I don’t know is why Mary couldn’t be saved. Why did it have to happen like this? I feel guilty. I feel like because Mary couldn’t get better, I don’t deserve to get better. And I don’t know what to do with that. The irony is that Mary’s death has made me want to get back in my eating disorder again. This disorder is so cruel and twisted. Knowing that Mary is gone has left a black hole in my heart. I can’t believe this has happened. I will never see her again. I will never hug her again. I will never tell her I love her again. I miss her, and it will never go away. I don’t know what to do with this, and something sick in me wants to punish myself with my eating disorder. I’m sorry, Mary. I miss you.