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But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast.

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Dying to Die

There once was a little girl with sparkling eyes who was free to be herself. Now she is a prisoner locked in her mind. She is ruled by the scale. Nothing else really matters. Her mood is dependent on the scale. She sleeps all the time, cries, and doesnt leave her house or answer the phone. She hates herself, and fantasizes of better times, times when she was thinner, times when she felt better... Now she is lost and tormented. Caught in a web of fears, with no key, she is trapped. She is depressed, they say. She is depressed, supressed, repressed, obsessed, and it is all her fault. She plays puppet to the world. No one must know how she feels. She knows today that she might not make it through the night, her blood sugar so high she can barely breath, but she begs for death. Death or someone to save her. She cant save herself. Her final bill to her mom, the funeral. No more expenses, good-bye burden. So sick, she limps when she walks. Gotta quit puking. Her legs are so cramped, her stomach so hurt. She dreams about food, dreams about vomiting, dreams about osmolar comas... and she wakes up sweaty in panics, just to binge, go back to sleep, wake up a few hours later, and vomit. Will someone save her? They say she is chronic. "You have exhausted all your funds," they say. Hopeless. Thats what she is. Hopeless. Well now she is dying. Fine. When she really wants help, or at least a shoulder to cry on, she is hopeless. And the fucking scale isn't getting lower. Actually it is getting higher. She hates herself. Burn the flesh, puke the nutrition, sleep... all just to die. She wants to cry, but she cant. So she is doomed to die... Her real friends, so far away, they care, but she isn't here to stay. She burdens them , she feels bad, she hates herself, she is so sad. Die Bitch Die! The voice declares. It always wins. Soon... soon she will be free. However it wont let her go until she is thin.

11:46 p.m. - 2003-01-05
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