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But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast.

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The Terrible Hunger

I devoured the coffee cake. I finished off all the muffins. I stepped on the scale. Up eight ten pounds. I want to cry. I want to puke. I must resist. I am terrified of throwing up my combination of medications...

And the beta blocker. My heart isn't racing constantly but I fear that it is contributing to my weight gain. And that makes me want to stop it...

With it my chest doesn't hurt, and it is easier to function. With it, I probably gain weight from a decreased heart rate and therefore slower metabolism.

Without it I could go into cardiac arrest. Without it I can barely get up without almost passing out and terrible chest pains.

To the normal person, the answer seems obvious. Take it! But I am not normal. I am disordered...

My mom. I feel so awful. I ate her coffee cake. She is going to be livid. She is going to be worried. She is going to ask, "Why can't you have more self-control?"

Today I call UCLA. Hopefully I will get in soon. Because I cannot take this any longer. My body cannot take this any longer. My mom is cannot take this any longer...

I have such odd dreams. Like I am another person in another life when I sleep. An old man, working in a wood shop that makes signs in an old town. An old town where it constantly rains, and rats run along the cobbled narrow streets. But it is beautiful. And I wish I was there.

I must go back to bed. My mom will be up soon, and she will see the damage I have done to the kitchen. I don't want to be in the concious mind for that...

Give me a big band aid. Put a dressing on my wounds...

Invisible. Rip it off. That hurts more than anything.

Exposed, for all to see, when theydo they run away, please, don't leave, I will be good...

Just stay. It is abandonment that keeps me from being set free.

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