But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast.

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Nightmares and Reminiscing

A young overweight man with blonde hair was standing over my bed saying, "Now, I'm not going to hurt you." He slowly reached out for my leg, exposed under the cover. I tried to scream out for one of my roommates, but only a whisper left my lips. I tried to move, but I was frozen. In his other hand he held a large syringe, full of some deadly liquid. I made one final attempt to jerk away as he almost grabbed me, and suddenly I found myself stifling a scream, sitting awake in bed.
I look around my room. The computer monitor is casting eerie shadows along the wall. "It was only a dream..." But so real. It has been so long since I had such a terrible nightmare as that. I look at the digital clock next to my bed. Only 12:10 in the morning. Only three hours before I scarfed down six candy bars, giving into my craving for sugar. Any type of sugar. I was hungry. I knew I would regret it. I only rationalized this act with the thought that I needed to go to class tomorrow, and for the past few days I have been too tired in the morning to make it.
But I didn't even enjoy it. All I could think about was how sugary the candy tasted after not eating it for so many days, and how many calories it had. Soon after I felt nauseous from consuming 1,600 calories in a sitting, wheareas in the past five days I have consumed less than half of that each day.
But I didn't purge, and I took my insulin. A major step for me.
Earlier today the older man at the liquor store came out of the back when I walked in. He said, "Hey Gwen, is anyone with you?", and looked behind me. No one else was. It was nightime. I had run there, so he said, "Come on, let me show you the freezer. He put his arm around my waist, directing me back there. Not wanting to sound impolite, I went, but as soon as we got in there I made sure the door stayed open so I could make a quick dash in case anything happened. (Remember, this is the same guy who kissed me and tried to drag me in back once.) Luckily nothing did, and I left with the excuse that I had friends waiting for me, which was true.
Later that night, the other Marissa, who goes by Mar, starting talking to me and Marissa about her miscarriage. It was sad. I never realized that it only happened six months ago. While she talked she began to cry, and I realized how strong she is, how weak I am, and how much she puts up with. Her husband began to hit her so she left him soon after he came back from the war. She lost a baby at almost four months. Now she is working full time, going to school full time... and no one would ever talk to her about it.
Some people are silent heroes of our day, and we never realize it.
The weather is so beautiful right now. The time is close approaching 2:00am. I couldn't remember what it reminded me of, the upper-fifties, the dry air, the cool breeze.... The beautiful calmness of it all reminding everyone that it will all be okay. Something about the beauty of it all made me miss something so wonderful, a time lost, that I wanted to cry in mourning. And then I remembered; Jori (http://freaknuraw.diaryland.com) and I staying up all night and going outside at thirty minute intervals to smoke cigarettes, watching movies, giggling, and finally crashing at dawn. We would sneak out, play practical jokes on my brother and his friends, make gourmet concoctions that only we enjoyed, and even got in trouble with the "bad boys" together. It is exactly like one of those nights. We never stayed up during the day. The days were filled with anger, screaming... hate. So all my friends who ever came over knew to come over during the night, to stay up all night, or get out.
I can't blame my mom. Really, she takes more pain medication than anyone I have ever met. Roxycodone, Oxycontin, Vicodin... And soon she is getting a morphine pump. One second without it and she is cruel. On it she does not know herself.
I do not know the mother that I grew up with. She is not the same since she broke the bones in her foot. Then again, she could say she does not know the daughter that she bore in labor. I am not the same daughter after I developed an eating disorder.
It is all true; neither of us know ourselves. How could we know each other?

1:24 AM - Thursday, Mar. 10, 2005
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dying - living