But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dysfunctional
"Spoiled child." That is what I am. I look around me and I have so many things. Too many clothes to fill a closet, a tv, computer, cd player, tons of dvds, books, enough food to feed an army, and enough medication to sustain life for a year.
So what is my problem? Why can I not just get over it? Why am I so twisted? At times I tell myself my task is to not eat. I have plenty of other forms of entertainment to fill my time. I have other things to do besides eat. But food is the one thing I seem to want constantly. I cannot even escape from it during sleep. I dream of food. As I sit here I am eating my second graham cracker so frustrated at my weakness, telling myself it will be my last, but will it?
Yesterday I horrified myself by sitting in front of the tv thinking of food. To my horror I soon found myself consuming a bag of chocolate covered pretzels. Even worse, I found myself sucking the chocolate off and spitting out the pretzels. Later that night my mother made stuffed manicotti shells, one of my favorite dishes. I ate all the cheese and left the skins. She was pissed, rightfully so. So I ate the skins I left. I ate a whole pan and followed it with a liter of chocolate milk, four butterfingers, and a little debbie.
"Now you are just going to throw up, aren't you?!" She said angrily.
"Leave me alone!" I snapped. I was angry at her for making them, angry at her for telling me not to leave the skins, but most of all angry at myself for not being able to eat normally even in front of my family. I went into my room, grabbed the file drawer, turned on King of the Hill, and purged. I know I was loud. I know she heard me. I didn't care. I cared so much that I couldn't be bothered to care.
The night before my brother came home high. Later he and his friend were talking about Heroin Pills. I asked my mom what they were and she said extended release morphine pills. He has been sneaking them from her. She hid them in my room. He is so cruel when he is like that. Then last night he snuck off, lied about where he was, didn't answer his phone... Had her worried sick.
We are so dysfunctional.
5:54 AM - Sunday, Jun. 19, 2005
0 comments
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
dying - living
---------------------------------------
|
|
|
|
|
|
