But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Beautiful? Only a few more days and I shall be gone. I pray that I can make it this time. After this treatment I refuse to return home. I will go almost anywhere else. Just not here. Here is sickness. Here is what what keeps me sick. Here I am expected to be sick. And I refuse to be sick any longer. Tonight I told myself that I would allow my body to rest. But I did not. There was ice cream. And I bought Hershey's syrup. And Cinnamon Life. Before I knew it my stomach was swollen to the size of a ripe watermelon. I was shaking and sweating. Nauseated, I headed out into the cold darkness, quietly, ducked behind the bushes, leaned over, stuck my fingers down my throat, and proceeded to empty out my infected body. But it would not come up. So I took off my ring. I jammed my whole right hand down my throat, punched myself hard with the left in the gut. Only a few splashes came up. Sweet, syrupy goop falling on clean grass. It was not worth it. The pain, the shame, the hate that I feel for myself. Because I cannot do the one thing I am good at. Because the one thing I am good at I despise myself for. I am lower than vermin. All my life I have been told that I am beautiful. People have told me that I should be a model. That I have the right bone structure. That I am photogenic. I do not think so. I cringe when people tell me that. I want to be beautiful, but not in the physical sense. I want to be pure, intelligent, I want to be something great. A doctor. A doctor that makes a difference in patient's lives. But it all seems impossible when you are watching puke spew out of your stomach. When chest pains make it impossible to get up in the morning. When you miss too many classes and get dropped. When doctors send you home to die... But I will live... I have the will. The closer I have come to death the more I crave life. As a baby I was suppossed to die. I wasn't suppossed to be born alive. I quit breathing numerous times after birth. I was under five pounds for a month. But I made it... And I will again. I see so much that there is, it is just behond this Hell. I have been blinded by the fires, but I will regain my vision. I am leaving here, I shall not return. %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% If anyone wants my address at UCLA, please e-mail me before Sunday at [email protected] I will be happy to give it out :)
1:32 a.m. - 2004-04-23 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------- |
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