But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Its All Okay...Really The taste of stale sugars coats my mouth. I drink gallons of diet soda, head to the bathroom to urinate out all the glucoses unabsorbed my dying cells... My logical brain begs for insulin. My diseased brain screams, "NO, NO, NO! It is your own fault bitch! If you die you deserve it!" And so I give in to the horrible beast. The diseased brain. I look at my shot needles, all neatly aligned in their boxes, "Used as directed," written on the cover... But that won't be. I won't even use them. The boxes build up from the pharmacy. It is my rebellion. It is the one thing that is in my control. I hate it, but I am obsessed with it at the same time. An obsession that kills... I took my insulin yesterday. I was even proud of myself. But all that pride dissappeared when I woke up. Up six pounds. So I binged. Eat, gorge, fill up on calories... seven donuts, a can of fruit, and one big cheese omelette. Too full to move, sugars too high to function, I lie in bed, wanting to scream, cut, bleed my heart out on my red blanket... But I stay silent. Act calm. As if nothing is wrong. Because when you act as if everything is okay, it really is... 4:27 p.m. - 2004-03-06 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------- |
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