But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast.
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The Lies of Truth
In the end, guys always win.
We went out to party. I felt sick. I wouldn't have gone if it wasn't for Dime, who really wanted to go and refused to stay behind. I went to keep an eye on her. Jo also wanted to go. The guys were acting a bit odd. There was some strange mood that no one could quite pinpoint. The guys tried to get drugs. They dropped us off at their place, in the middle of nowhere, promising to be back with some chronic in fifteen minutes. An hour passed. They had even taken the dog. This was all too odd. We began to walk. Jo was freaking out. After about half an hour of walking through desert in the pitch black, we received a call. Jo refused to answer. Dime finally called one of her guy friends. They spotted us. We climbed over the barbed-wire fence of the road we were walking on and got a ride. I was the only one not completely panicked.
Perhaphs it is because I no longer care what happens to my body. It is just a body. A physical being meant to please others and be tortured by me.
The guys called. They had drugs. Dime and I refused to go with them, but Jo decided she would go get high and come back to my place at 6:00am.
I don't think I have been this irritated in quite a while.
Earlier today I was on the phone to one of my closest friends in Canada, standing outside in an above knee length skirt. Suddenly, a bee went up my skirt, or maybe it was a wasp. I received five stings right in the inner-upper part of my thighs. I jokingly said it was a sign from above. I do not care. It was my punishment.
I have gained weight. I seem to bingeing quite frequently. Earlier Dime's blood sugar was high, over 600. She hadn't checked her sugars in a month. She started regressing into an infant-like attitude, while still insisting on going to the party. That is why I went in the first place. I see much of myself in her, yet so little. The uncontrolled diabetes I see. The low self-esteem, the need to be sick, I see all that. I see it and it worries me. Dime, who I diagnosed with diabetes. Dime, who I met at age four in gymnastics.
I know that it is my fault. I set a bad example. I am a very hypocritical person, though I am now watching my sugar levels.
I see it in your face.
I want you to love me, to hold me.
Your words are all lies, deceit to get you what you want.
I have one true friend, one true enemy, and it is all the same. Slowly, I consider trading you, the one I love, for it.
So I consider wretching my guts out, seeing the contents swirl around, fasting from then on.
It is a feast of famine.
I hate you and I love you.
avoidant
Which Personality Disorder Do You Have?
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1:25 a.m. - 2003-08-26
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