My disease puts up a wall between me and anyone else alive, it sometimes seems. I can remember feeling very vulnerable one day, and someone that I loved very much, at the time, pointing out to me that, while she may not have been perfect, most girls would have walked out a long time previous and gone after someone who could, say, have a date at a nice restaurant without gagging and having a panic attack at the table, like one Valentine’s Day I can’t forget. That was a manipulative and abusive thing to say, but I couldn’t deny that it was 100-percent true, so how could I really even get mad? She did deserve a better date than that. She did.