But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I Am All Evil I slept until 1:40 this afternoon. My mom called my therapist to tell her I was too sick to see her. I was. I felt like if I moved my heart would jump out of my throat. My stomach hurt terribly bad. My therapist told my mom she would make a house call. Great. And I looked like shit. Instead of just my therapist showing up, Kim and my social worker came too. Great... and look at me. Oily hair, still in PJ's, pudgy face. My therapist thinks my whole issue with going to school is another power trip. Her voice was stone cold as she said that. I almost started crying then. Instead I kept myself calm with images of running a blade up and down my legs, splattering blood everywhere. No, it isn't a power trip. At first I was just embarassed because of my absences and my weight. Then I honestly got to the point where I feel like the whole world hates me, and I feel too sick to go. I have no energy. I could sleep forever and be perfectly content. There was so much that I wanted to say. I wanted to tell them that I know they think I am on a power trip, that they think I do this for attention, that I am sorry for taking up their time, that I wish I was dead, that when I get thin enough they will no longer bother with me...etc... Kim said that I should tell them that I need to go into the hospital. I feel so crappy right now that I actually do want to go, but I am scared. I don't want to gain weight. I don't deserve help. I keep telling myself, "When you lose 15 pounds then you can go." Until then I am not worthy. I am also frightened that they will send me to residential. So many people believe I can't do this on my own, I think it is my pride that keeps me from admitting they are right. I want to prove everyone wrong, prove that I can live on the outside world, but now I feel too sick to accomplish that. I dream of better days, days when I could laugh and run and eat pizza without throwing it up. Days when I took pride in the fact that I had my diabetes under such good control and was like a medical book when it came to explaining it. Just typing this makes me want to cry... So I have to go to Stanford on Friday. What do I say to them? Will I be medically stable enough to walk out those doors? Today at my docs he was talking about heart medication. I wish he would give me something. My chest hurts all the time.However, because of my already low blood pressure, he is hesitant. Great... I am supposed to A. Live with a high pulse, or B. Cut out the caffeine and see what happens. I choose B. I need my caffeine. I already sleep twenty hours a day. No way am I upping that to 24. I didn't binge/purge today. I didn't have the energy. I ended up eating 980 calories all at once at the end of the day, just finishing off some Angelfood cake right now. I don't know why I ate. I didn't want to. Food tastes gross these days. My weight was 95 this afternoon when I actually crawled out of bed. I am sure to gain tomorrow since I didn't puke. O well. Who cares? Does it really matter? I am already mostly dead. Inside of me there is no life. I am all evil. I allow myself pleasures that I don't deserve. I allow myself food. I allow myself to turn on my electric blanket. I allow myself books, the internet, and to talk to people. What I really deserve is to be raped all day long, to sleep out in the cold, to be fed laxatives and no food. Even then that wouldn't be enough of a punishment. I am an awful person. I am not a person. I am just an evil being. Sorry to sound so depressing. It seems to be another root of my evil. Take care everyone. Dimstar 11:33 p.m. - 2003-02-05 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------- |
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