I’m fat.  I have a serious passion/addiction/obsession with food.  I eat when I’m happy.  I eat when I’m sad.  I eat when I’m bored.  I eat because it’s Monday.  I eat because it’s 3:25. You get the picture. I realized that I was depressed when I had no appetite at all.  I can ALWAYS eat.  (See the above requirements for eating.)  Until the day, I couldn’t.  I had no desire.  I had no fight.  I could tell that my mom and brother were worried about me.  “You’re not going to eat???”  So, I would eat when they were around.  Not much, but enough to make them stop staring at me. …