But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Lost Faith I started my first night class, and He was there. The person I fear most in the world, who went to jail for three months because of me and a few others, the person I would rather die than see. My heart raced. I avoided any eye contact, and he acted as if I weren't there. The teacher kicked him out when he came, assigning him another lesson time. He came back "to talk" to her and flirt with some of the girls. Fear welled up inside me. A frantic bird flew in my chest, pecking at my ribs, begging to be let loose. I give up. It seems as if recovery is selfish, and I am therefore punished for it. I want to flee from here, go into hiding, never come back, and start a new life. If I cannot do this I choose death, for nothing is more painful than life at present, and, contrary to popular misconception, it does not get better. I look at the needle. Slowly, I push out the fluid into air. What was once meant to enter my flesh shall evaporate, become waste, and lose all its' usefullness. I step on the scale. Down a pound? I see more to go. I shall lose, lose until there is nothing. For if I cannot escape, I shall dissappear. The lightening strikes the earth, the declaration of fatality in its deafening crack.
12:24 a.m. - 2003-09-04 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------- |
||||||