But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Tomorrow is Gone I slowly flip through all the photo albums, looking at each page that features the same girl. She smiles, her eyes sparkle, and she seems full of life. Not a hair out of place, not a piece of faded clothing on her, and she is thin. She is thin and in each picture she smiles, giving off more life than the stars could possibly hold in the night. Look closer. Do not be fooled. So I look into her eyes. There is a pleading inside them, something begging to be let out. A sadness so deep it could be mistaken for content. She is trying to break free of the photo, an image that captures nothing of herself, but of who she wishes to be. The girl is me, or rather, what I used to be, or what I wish I was, and what I never was. I hate her. Under my breath I his evil words to her, wishing her the plague. So beautiful, so thin, so loved and cherished by all around her. She is all of it, and she is none of it. To them she is all those things, but in reality she is none of them. I say I will start tomorrow. I keep eating, and because I am eating I sleep, and because I sleep I gain weight. I am slovenly. Tomorrow I will not binge, tomorrow I will socialize, tomorrow I will sleep during the night, tomorrow I will do my hair and make-up.... Tomorrow. Tomorrow has never come, and it never shall. Tomorrow is the doom of death. Where today meets its end. Where there are more todays. Tomorrow, a rebirth, and a death. 11:37 p.m. - 2003-09-01 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------- |
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