I was inspired to write this essay because my 12-grade roommate suffered from bulimia it had made him cold and pessimistic. although it took a while he finally opened up and told me that he didn't see the point of moving on with life and he had a disturbing smile on hiss face still gives me the creeps. he was vivid in his difficulties not being able to play sports being made fun of and the only medicine for bulimia is an antidepressant called fluoxetine but it was clearly not working the more he talked the more uncomfortable I felt. he had tried to take his life 2 years before with an overdose of Zyrtec but fortunately, he survived constantly shunning company made him emotionless and to some extent sadistic. I lost contact with him after 12
