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But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast.

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Stuck

I am so scared to live, too young to die, so I hang...

I confuse myself. I know that I want recovery. I am sure of that. It is the one thing I am sure of, besides that I want to be thin.

My sugars are high. Why bother caring? They are always high. Without even testing them I can tell they are high when my urine smells of baked sugar pastries. The sickeningly sweet smell permeates the air, nauseates me, and I wonder if I am going to vomit. Instead I have diahhrea.

My grandmother is so odd. Sometimes she truly baffles me. She convinced me to go look at motor scooters with her, even though I was adament on not getting one, (she has this belief that it would be a great idea for transportation) but finally gave up when the man said, "Oh yes, so many of our retired seniors in this community are buying them!" Now it is, "Dim, once you get your permit we will go look at cars."

Thank God. I thought I would never hear those words. Guilt sets in as I admit that I want this when I don't need it. I will punish myself for this later. I took a few online written tests and did quite well. Quite frankly, if I could have something that could get me out of this horrible town every weekend I would be quite pleased. It is a country in itself. People are much crueler than any other town I have lived in. You find your friends and keep them close. You don't gain enemies, unless they are mesquitos.

Random fact: My mom grew sunflowers. One of them is as big as a large pizza!

Mmmm... pizza. I had some yesterday. I don't like it as much as I used to. I mainly chewed it up and spit it out. I continue to walk in and out of the kitchen, as if I expect my answers to life to jump out at me and erase all my problems. The only thing that jumps out is food. Then the number on the scale jumps up. The pants fit tighter. I dream of thinness. I forget the hell that once was. Every second a laxative fast sounds more and more appealing.

Don't let me give in. I will not succumb to it.

And I dive down, not sure of where I am going, but sure that I can no longer stay here. On my torso a life raft, on my ankles dead weight.

11:50 p.m. - 2003-08-20
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