But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast.
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Forgive Me
Only nine days until Christmas. I leave next Tuesday on a train for home. I haven't bought any Christmas gifts for anyone yet. I haven't filled out Christmas cards. I am getting late notices on bills because for some reason my mom's credit card is bouncing, and she has a $25,000 limit on it. More than anything, I am worried that she went over her limit.
It doesn't feel like Christmas. It feels like a dead winter. The sky is grey, the trees are naked, bare of lush green leaves, and everyone and everything seems so hostile. An invisible bitter ice, ready to freeze the earth, lingering beyond sight. But you can feel it. All around, in your bones, in your fingertips, freezing you from the inside out. It doesn't matter how many layers you put on. You will freeze. Crawl back in bed and sleep for eternity.
I haven't left my apartment in two days. I haven't taken a shower or brushed my teeth since yesterday morning. All of those necessary things seem like acts which I am supposed to fulfill, but for what? I am so tired of living. I wish that I didn't have to fight.
Every second is a fight. What will I eat? How much? Can I eat that? Now I want more. I can't have more. I must wait. I am ugly. I need to lose weight. I can't lose weight. I need to take my insulin. I need to check my blood sugar.
Get up, feed the mouth, (but not too much!) take the shot, take a shower, get dressed, go out, check the sugar, take a shot, eat lunch, (but not too much!) Don't look in the mirror, don't like or hate who you are, appreciate who you are....
I wish death would swallow me in darkness. Then there would be no more struggle. I just wish it would do it quickly, without the suffering that accompanies the slow process of bingeing, purging, starving, manipulating insulin... I just wish it to be peaceful and painless.
I don't know what I am fighting for anymore. I am tired of fighting. I am sick of not feeling as exuberant as when I was little. I am tired of caring. Of knowing that there are better things, but that they are unnatainable. So I want nothing. I want death. So forgive me, I can no longer put on this happy facade.
4:35 PM - Thursday, Dec. 16, 2004
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dying - living
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