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But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast.

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Salvation Is The Key, O Will They Save Me?

My insurance decided to not pay for Center for Discovery. My world is caving down around me. Am I going to die? I do not know how long I can continue to binge, to purge, to skip my insulin. I do not know how long I can go on with every waking morning being a struggle to get out of bed. It hurts to walk very far. I hide my pain with a smile, sad eyes, like broken windows are the only thing that reflect my true pain. It is easy to hide.

Once so full of life, so energetic, bouncing from place to place, tying up the phone line, playing all sports, being praised for my amazing academics and involvement in the community, along with extaordinary diabetes management for my age, I am now none of this. I am just a drain on society, an invalid.

I dream of better times, a brighter future, I dream and hope that I will never wake up...

I am never good enough. 91.5 pounds. I always thought I would be happy once I got to 105, then 99... Now I shall never know. I have fallen down the rabbit hole, and it is so much deeper than I thought.

I remember standing in front of the mirror in 7th grade, bones protruding, saying to myself, "I can quit when I want. I'm not anorexic. As soon as I get thin enough I will gain back all the weight by eating whatever I want, and I will be happy."

Then it became that I would quit when I was dying.

It never stopped. They all tell me I can die any night, and I so desperately want to escape this prison, to see the light, to regain the sparkle in my eyes, to have my heart go from a muscle desperataly beating for life to a heart of gold, It hopes I will be good to it, make it strong enough to ride horses, run around the block with my dog, to be free.

I want to jump out of bed in the morning and not feel as if I am going to not be able to draw my breath, to not have an elephant on my chest, to not have my heart flutter like a bird with broken wings.

I want to live. I want recovery.

11:07 p.m. - 2003-03-20
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