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But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast.

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Crying Cuts

I don't know why I am adding another entry. Maybe to assure myself that I am still here, still alive, still fighting.

I no longer know.

My mom and I got into a fight. She doesn't want me to move away. I told her I have to. That I cannot reside in the same town as someone who violated me. Where rumours run rampid. Where I fear stepping outside my own house.

"Well Dim, you didn't try and do a damned thing about it. It is your fault that he is loose on the streets!"

This infuriated me. Hot tears sprang to my eyes. I opened the car door. She drove faster. I jumped out. We were only going a few miles an hour because we were on my street. I went into my room, buried my face in my pillow, and cried.

"Bam!" the door was kicked open. Cruel words poured out of her mouth.

I will never be good enough.

She left. I grabbed a lancet and dragged it over my arm in quick, hard motions. In a matter of moments I had fourteen cuts, five of them lascerations.

I held a towel to my arm. I put pressure on it. Soon the towel was soaked and leaking onto my comfortor. I became dizzy and my heart pounded.

"I want to dance with the angels," I thought.

No.

Apply pressure. Hold it tight. This is one instance where high blood sugar serves an advantage.

I called my therapist. I went to see her. She wants me to go to Delamo. I cannot. I am now responsible for all my medical bills. They are coming in my name. I cannot afford it. In a way I long for the safety. I feel so out of control. I want to quit but I can't.

Everything I eat I want to purge. I want to eat everything. I find it so difficult to take my insulin, to eat normally. My back and stomach hurt constantly. I am nauseated.

But I have lost weight. I have lost weight and it isn't only the scale saying so. I have had three comments on it.

But it is not enough. It will never be enough...

I bought the first season of ER today. It is my motivation. It reminds me of my goal in life. I must serve some purpose. I must become a pediatrician.

Sharp pains in my back. I try to have a bowel movement, but there is just pain. Pain and pink froth. I am scared. It is so painful that I am actually considering getting the tests done.

I am so tired. Sleep does not quench my appetite for energy. Food does not fill me. Purging does not empty me.

Cutting. I am so ashamed. I managed to leave my arms alone for so long...

Now everyone will know my secret.

I wish the angels would invite me to dance.

11:42 p.m. - 2003-10-06
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