But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast.

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Wishing for the Past

I am a zombie, walking in a fog.... I have not answered my cell phone. There are over forty missed calls. I don't care...
I am taking my insulin, running through it like water. I have been 95% of the time... Just some days.... I don't care... And it doesn't matter. Because, for once in my life, I am hungry, eating whatever I desire, and I won't gain weight.
And I am exhausted. I can feel my brain deteriorating, my thought process slowing, and I am powerless to stop it. I am an outsider, watching.
Health isn't important to those around you. You drop weight, they say, "You are so hot!" You say, "But I am eating, and I feel like shit."
No one cares. It is all in the looks. The deader the better. My family recognizes that something is wrong. But really, I can't tell them...
I think it is my fear. My fear is eating me alive.
"Please, don't let me get evicted."
"Please, don't let him get shot."
"Please, don't let us crash."
"Please, God, don't let me be pregnant."
And maybe that is why I am not myself anymore. Too consumed with worry and fatigue to know who I am anymore. I wish that I could say more. I don't even know what I have said, what you can read into, but really, I hope it isn't too much, or too little...
I just wish things were the way they used to be... When I first moved here.

4:12 p.m. - 2004-09-25
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dying - living