But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast.
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Blue and Black Moods
I fall asleep at before dawn, and awake to darkness. I no longer see the light. I do not see people. I am hidden. A hermit in my room. I feel trite, and yet I do nothing. I cower under the covers from what may be, from unknown terrors, from those who may sight me.
I do not want to be seen. I want to dissappear. Evaporate into thin air. Slowly, I move deeper into my mind, descending farther into a cave, away from society and all its whims. In the distance I hear the constant ring of my phone, but I stay frozen, as if answering the call would shatter my world.
I think that "recovery" is destroying me. Or perhaphs I am not meant to live. I am not the fittest. I am too fragile, too sensitive. Even words like "baby" I find repulsive and degrading. The man at the liquor store, three times my age, asks me out. He is married. My neighbor says I am beautiful, and that is why all the older men like me. All the boys my age regard me as a friend. When I enquire as to why, their only reply is that I am too intelligent. And others even say that I am intimidating. Their reasons are not legitimate, and only seem partially true, but the truth will never be known, and you can only see traces obscured in their faces. I cannot get an honest answer as to why. I have heard that my eyes seem to look through people, that they are so green and gold that they seem to read you...
But they are only eyes. And they only see what is in front of them, not through mountains.
How badly I want to vomit the contents of my stomach. To run a razor over this purple and white flesh, discolored from the cold. To lie under the shower water, and pretend, for one last time, that I am not here, as the warm water hits my face, that I am in a rainforest, that there is sun, that I was never here... To leave this world, not even a good-bye, Novalog bottle in the vein, Tylenol, emptied, to dispose of the garbage in the bath, the waist of life in the tub, finally being disposed of...
A single tear leaves my eye. I couldn't do it... Because for some reason someone loves me. And I return back here, away from my morbid dreams, and I look into the screen, and wonder, "When did I become so depressed? Will this sorrow ever end?"
And I know my answer. No. Because I want to be thin. And I want to be healthy. And I am fighting a losing battle while I can't give up the dream of the former, while choosing the latter.
And really, the latter is life...
The former is death...
I must choose, life or death.
8:30 PM - Tuesday, Dec. 21, 2004
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dying - living
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