But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast.

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Too Much

I lined up with the rest who were doing so. I informed those in my classes. But when I got there they immediately picked me out of the lot. "Umm, we need to get a weight on you." I tried to step on the scale with my jacket and boots.
"Nope, take off your jacket and your boots. Empty your pockets too."
I had prepared. I had gotten up three hours early, made myself drink soda after soda, coffee after coffee, water...
"Oh boy..." She said as my jacket came sliding off.
I prayed that I would make it. The 110 mark. That their scale would be off. "Please, can't you just look at my photo ID?" I said, "It has my weight on it!"
"No, we would be shut down," the nurse said, "You don't have much blood to give if you weigh under 110."
I crossed my fingers. Their scale read a digit far too low... Not even considerable to let me donate.
As I left, humiliated and one of my life's dreams shot down and stomped on, one of the ladies said, "But you can still have a free t-shirt."
"No, no, its all right. I don't want one."
"No, go ahead. Take one. Are you sure?"
Yes I was sure. I was not there for the shirt. I did not care about the shirt. I wanted to donate my blood. I have seen sick children in hospitals in need of transfusions. I know the need. And I wanted to help. Why did they pick me, out of the long line, to weigh? Why?
As I tried to discuss the anger I felt with my peers about this, about their being a weight limit instead of a BMI limit, they did not understand. They did not care. They did not donate. They did not want to get poked by a needle.
And I thought about Bailey. She had almost died this weekend. I called her a few times, left messages, called her mother...
Finally she called me back. She wasn't much in the mood to talk, understandably so, but I was so glad to hear that she is okay...
Straight from the horse's mouth, as they say.
I had to hear it from her. No one else would have satisfied my hunger for this. As we talked she said, "And when you left I wasn't that concerned..." And guilt flooded me. I wanted to cry, to reach out into the phone and take her away, to make sure she would be safe, to never let her in harms' way again...
Only two and half more weeks. Then I will be out of here.
But there will be some regrets, some things I will miss. I have become comfortable at the college, the library with its two floors of books my salvation. The beautiful boy, and yes, even at 21 he is still a boy, though a man in some ways, (we never really grow up) kissed me last night. We were watching tv, joking, laughing... I think about him whenever he is gone, and whenever he is here I instantly feel better. I felt a sense of jealousy as he spoke to a girl in his class with the perfect hour-glass figure, blond, long hair and blue eyes today...
I hope I don't fall for him. I can't fall for him and leave. But I fear that I already have. He is always on my mind. I know his eyes, his smile, the movies and books he likes, his beliefs...
I fear that I already have. I am so confused. A bottle of mixed emotions, if all colors they would turn a murky brown from being too many together.

8:36 PM - Tuesday, May. 10, 2005
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dying - living