But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Worshiping the Porcelain God So much to say, not enough time, no right words. I am acting as if I never went into the hospital. I am doing what I like. The doctor was terrible. I have never been to a less understanding man. I lost ten pounds overnight. Apparently I did gain a lot of water weight. My family doctor said that I still have edema in my feet and need to lie down and raise them up. They are bruised from the swelling. 100 pounds. 14 more to go and I will be back to the weight I was at. So sick, too sick to crawl out of bed, it was better. I was almost there. I was almost happy. I was almost thin. I stare at all the food. I have eaten all the syrup, all the milk, two cans of refried beans, and the cinnamon off three pieces of bread. I want more. I will only quit when I am sick. I want to stop. I cannot. I cry, frustration flowing out of me. I head to the bathroom. No one is home. I lean over the toilet, it gleams like a porcelain god. I push in my stomach, jam my hand down my throat. The room spins, brown and pink splash upwards, landing on the sides, landing on the floor. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry" I say to no one in particular as I climb into bed, empty again, cold, cold like my heart, I shiver, I cry, and I let sleep wash over me. Take me away. I am unworthy of this earth. I do not deserve you. I suck up everything, I take all, I give nothing.
1:13 a.m. - 2003-05-07 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------- |
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