But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Fallen I wake up, the dawn barely tinting the black sky, and make the march outside. Grab a towel, I know what I must do, yet what I should not do. I stumble over the grass, past the trees, and lean over. Three fingers down my throat, I tighten my abdomen, and like a whale's spout, I unleash everything. All the evil, all the hate, all the horrible things that I have become. Last nights binge, or rather, early morning. Goodbye carrots, salmon, nutella, and graham crackers. Goodbye. I shall not miss thee. The acid burns at my throat. I nearly faint, the ground swirls in front of me, mocking me, becking me to fall onto the cool earth. I go back into my prison, my room. Prick the finger, draw the blood, let the meter tell me its dreaded news. HI I want to say hello in a cruel voice, welcome back the past, give up, and let it continue to read "HI," to never let myself be normal again. Yet I know what I must do. I have seen the face of death, and because I cannot live for myself I know it is necessary to live for others. I am a shell that holds life, that holds hope for others. So I take my insulin. I draw up the syringe, give myself the injection, and fall back into a fitfull sleep. It is almost nightfall when I awake next. My throat is on fire, I cannot speak. I stare into the mirror, eyes a bright green, and open my mouth. Full of puss, white streaked. I have strep throat, the punishment inflicted on me for losing all my moral. I invite it gladly. 11:03 p.m. - 2003-08-30 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------- |
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