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But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast.

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Dragged Under

I had another nightmare. I was at the public pool with a few of my friends, and one had a beautiful baby girl. The little girl fell into the murky water. No one tried to save her, so I dove in. I pulled her out, only to have her fall back in. Over and over again this happened, and no one made an attempt to save her. Eventually she drowned. Her mother screamed, cried, and began yelling at me about how lucky I was to have diabetes, a justifiable and acceptable disease. Somehow I knew she was going to kill me, so I slunk out when no one was looking. My friend Nikki was down the road ahead. I hadn't noticed her leave, but she had been there as well. We are both diabetic. Diabetics were the targets.

I asked her, "Do you have your meter?" She did. I hadn't bothered to grab my stuff, because I knew this would bring attention to us. We stopped at my house to grab some things. We knew we had to run away.

Then a group of people came. They were planning to kill us. We jumped out my window, over the wall, and ran. They called themselves "Death Eaters" (for any of you who read Harry Potter will find this humorous.)

We ran, jumped over walls, fear taking over. Somehow we knew that there was no escape but to run forever.

I woke up, depressed and lonely. I am so tired. I want to cry. I hate this. I hate having an eating disorder, and I hate knowing that I can manipulate my insulin to control it. My hands, feet, face, and stomach are very puffy. I cannot button my jeans even though I haven't gained weight.

I want to cry. Instead I put up a cold front. I want someone to tell me it is okay, that I will survive this.

No one tells me that. No one knows if I surely will.

The black pulls gently, takes a firm grasp, drags me down.

I see the murky waters. I struggle for a breath. Instead I gulp in hate and depression.

Make it okay. Please. Save me from this torment. I have stayed strong for so long. I no longer know if I can hold on.

10:40 p.m. - 2003-09-30
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