Anorexia divides you but its subtle. The anorexic voice in my new novel even has a name, Saima. It took me a while to work out that my inner voice had gone awry. Let’s face it how often do we share the machinations of our inner worlds? Not often. Why? Probably because we are ashamed of some of the thoughts and embarrassed by others.
The question is ‘her’ or ‘me’? And more importantly how do I recognise who is speaking?
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