But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast.
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Not Yet Stabbed
Today mother and I got in a fight over finances, as usual. She yelled at me over my use of cell phone minutes, so I, in the mood that has been plaguing me for the past few days, finally exploded with anger.
"You don't want me to have a cell phone? Fine! Listen to it crunch!"
"Gwen don't you..."
Crunch. And as soon as the deed was done, I set to fixing it. Hopeless...
Completely, and utterly, hopeless.
Later I was to realize just how much I needed that cell phone. Shiko and I went on a car ride to talk. When we came back, about ten guys were standing in front of the apartment complex. They began to speak with me, while Shiko talked to her boyfriend.
"The Russian Mafia..."
Suddenly, one jumped out, and a blade was not 1/2 an inch from my stomach. Because I spoke up. Because I said, "Women are not bitches." I feel nothing. I see it, but I am not here, not afraid. And seconds last an eternity. I only think, "it will hurt until I die."
One of them took the knife away. Words around, "Are you okay, you look a little light headed..."
"Fine." One tried to ask me out. And I bade them good night, shaking like no other.
A collect to my mother followed. I proceeded to explain to her what happened, but she panicked, and whispered to my brother, "Call the police and have them trace the call."
I hung up. A knock on the door. Louder, more persistent. I freeze, then answer. Three police, one with a gun drawn. They look around, even though I tell them nothing happened here, that I am fine...
They say this is happening too much. They should go to jail, be deported...
One mentions that he saw my Lexapro. "Ummm, we see those medications a lot. Are you on that for depression?"
Yes, and what does it matter? Please discount everything I say. Let me go. Stay away. I want to be alone. Nothing. Dissappear.
I haven't eaten a thing today. And I feel as if I am going to vomit.
7:34 PM - Saturday, Mar. 05, 2005
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dying - living
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