But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- To T,to Die to Diet As I look in the mirror I realize that my deepest fear has come true, that I am the person I loath. My diary, sadly to say, may become a locked one. I found out my mom is reading it. Not only is she reading it, she is copying my entries and printing them. She swore she would respect my privacy while I was gone. She got mad at me for being skeptical. I was right to be so. I am not doing so well. I wish that I was, but I am not. I look at myself and I want to cry. I will never measure up to my standards. The comments, "You look good." "Translation:You are fat now, so we no longer have to care about you you slob." I feel so ashamed of who I have become. Every extra inch, a sign of shame, it will dissappear. I wish it, I will it, I die. I die it. Diet. If not my physical, then my mental. Polyuria, polyphasia, polydipsea. The three Ps. All these symptoms, they are mine. I contain them. I use them as a distraction. They are the symptom of a symptom. How much longer can I allow this to go on? I pace back and forth, mouth of cotton, stomach ballooned, waiting for the opportune time, the perfect moment, to rid myself, to cleanse myself of food, of love, of all things good. I do not deserve them. One by one they slowly dissappear, until there is nothing, nothing but me, and soon there won't even be me. Soon there will be none of us. Time, time gives, time takes, leaving us with only a sweet taste of the good a bitter taste of the bad, all in our memories. I suppose that is where the stars come in. 11:52 p.m. - 2003-08-21 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------- |
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