But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast.

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Crimson Fires

My aunt brought the boys over to help pack. The boys and food. Chips, dip, cookies... And cookies that only I like. Cookies that only I would eat. A sense of anger deeper than any I have felt in a long time filled me.
Couple that with my roommate saying in a pleasant voice, "Oh, I've heard so much about you!" And my aunt saying in a non-joking voice, "Nothing good, I'm sure." and the rage filled me.
She loaded the car. I had packed most of my things up. When she asked why I was so angry I finally yelled, "Because you brought only cookies that I will eat and I am trying so hard not to binge and purge!" Tears filled my eyes but I would not allow a single one to fall. What is wrong with me? Am I losing my mind?
After she left I told her to take the food with her. I told her I am not going to my therapy appointment tomorrow. (What's the point? They finally get me a therapist because they want me inpatient for one session.) We parted on bad terms again.
Then I see them. There, glaring at me on the counter in all their glory, beckoning are the Lofthouse gingerbread cookies. I wanted to scream. Greedy hands and fiery eyes grabbed the box. I ate them all. 1,500 calories. Might as while keep going. A pot of macoroni... Who knows how many calories? Cream of mushroom soup, canned turkey... My roommate is trying to converse with me but I am too distracted.
I am nothing. I deserve no one. I should never meet people in person. I walk to the toilet, purge, weigh in, and fall asleep.
I am exhausted. Blood sugar of 368, was that it? I take some insulin, turn on the air, look around me....
The room is almost empty. It is my life. And it is what I need to be. I am considering selling my computer, giving up everything I have...
I call my mom later. My brother is yelling in the background, "Get off the phone with her right now! I don't want her coming home. All she will do is be sick and complain." Like I ever complained to him except to tell him to quit being so cruel. Even my own brother doesn't want me. My mom says, "Gwen, I'll call you later. Love you." Atenelol. If I took my whole bottle my breathing would slow, my heart would stop... But I can't. Suicide is not an option. It never has been, and it never will be. And I have to stay healthy. I have to stay here. I have to get better.
The world is so dark. The merciless sun burns at my skin and reminds me of the hell that is really not so far away for me.

6:33 PM - Sunday, May. 22, 2005
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dying - living