But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- My Dear Jori :'( It hit me like a ton of bricks. Because I know how sad she is. She is mourning. And she is my best friend. I love her more than I love myself. Her childhood friend was stabbed to death. Her one friend who was a guy that she could trust. Stabbed to death by another man who was cheating with his girlfriend... They played together as small children. They laughed, ran around, ate dirt as toddlers... and now it is a memory. My poor Jori. Think Gwen, think. What can you do? She is so far away, in Georgia. Perhaphs I can use my car money to fly her here? I do not need a car... ....................................... What an odd day this has been. A day that started out with five consequtive binges and purges. Only three units of insulin. Yet not such a bad day. Not until the news. My psych paper recieved a, "Very well written, interesting article." Scarred knuckles, bloody fingers, none of that seems to matter now. I was invited to a sleepover for Valentine's Day. It took away the pain of my scarred heart, stinging throat, growling stomach, weak body... I was elated. Happy. But now. My best friend, in so much pain. Who I would instantly give my life for. She helped me so much. She lived with me for three months. Wiped away my tears, helped me see my mother's irrationality, made me laugh, snuck me out at night.... And guess what? She didn't desert me when I was sick. Like everyone else did. EVERYONE. Because "Why hang out with Gwen? She is just going to die anyway?" And now I can't be there when she needs me the most. A flood of desparation is taking over me. I must do something. I have not been so helpless before as to helping another so close, yet so far. And my fear, my feelings, lead to one thing; food. I will not give in, stuff my emotions, only to empty them into nothingness... I am stronger than that. And I am so close to my goal: I will graduate from high school before I die. Because my brother said years ago I would not. And I have but two months left. So close, yet so far... Only then can I become a shining star, a shooting star, and wish away Dimstar. 3:04 a.m. - 2004-02-06 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------- |
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