But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Better for Them Two big chocolate chip cookies, waiting to be consumed. Fifteen pairs of eyes, flitting up, wondering, "What is she doing?" She is me. And that was last night. Last night when I could not force myself to eat. And the more I thought about it the harder the task became. A voice whipers in the back of my head, but it seems like a scream. "You bitch! You don't deserve to eat. You think you deserve that? Look at you! So unworthy. So underserving!. Fuck you, you little whore. You should be out on the streets. Starving. Dying. Nothing." The nurses pour the Boost. They tell me I should have more than the 260 ml I need because the carbs are less than my snack. For my blood sugar. The blood pounds in my head. I begin to choke on my own tears. I refuse that. A voice that is not my own tells them no, that that is unfair. They become upset. Tears begin to spill down my face. I want to hide. I try and go in the reading room, but I am kicked out. I have to sit in the hall. More tears pour down. I begin to sob. I go in my room and sit in a corner. In total darkness. No one knows that I am gone. The flashbacks become worse. The voice grows louder. I want them to stop. I am causing so much trouble for everyone else. But they will not. Finally, out of sheer humiliation I am able to tell them that I am fine, and they take me outside to smoke. Because they think that is why I am crying. But when I am alone again I go in the bathroom, stand in front of the mirror, and let the tears pour. I walk into the stall of the bathroom, stick three fingers down my throat, and try to wretch up all that is inside. I punch my stomach. I only taste saliva and the tinge of vanilla Boost, too far gone. I am good at nothing. I cannot even make myself vomit. I walk back to bed, shaking, feeling hollow and wretched, too massive for this world, too evil to ever amount to anything but Hell. I did not cause a fuss today. I even accepted a raise in insulin. I ate all my meals. Because I want to be good. For them, I must be better. Is there a me, or is there an illusion with glimpses of reality? 9:43 p.m. - 2004-05-30 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------- |
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