But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast.

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Ghastly

I left my cell phone behind when Roberta called from UCLA. "You have to talk to Dr.Strober Gwen. Its really good to hear your voice though. I'm sorry its under these circumstances though...." I called at a particularly low point yesterday when I felt too ill to move, asking what the chances of them admitting me were.
I just want my life back.
I looked at some beautiful apartments today in West Hollywood. I imagine myself to be like Amelie. I will work in a little coffee house, have a cute apartment, watch the people around me...
That was after we dropped Claire off. I tried to joke with her but she was too ill. I feel awful about sending her to her mom so much lighter, like a wisp of air. My mom feels awful about it too, so worried. She cried when we arrived home, about how she failed, how awful these things are, and even more so when I began clearing the soda cans and wrappers out of my room.
In tears, "I've failed you Gwen. I don't know what I did wrong. Look at this house, look at where we live!"
No, she didn't fail. I've failed. I finally realized that no one who thinks they like me truly can for long if they are around me for a long time.
Except the man I left behind. He still e-mails me, checks up on me, and I miss him so. Another message to enquire about how I am, where I am, requests of a copy of the photo of us together. My heart melts and a smile crosses my face when I remember our late night walks, shopping for appliances, discussing books and watching movies...
In the end I told him about my eating disorder and he didn't think it was disgusting. He just held me and explained that he would never pressure me to do anything I didn't want, that he wasn't after sex.
I miss him every day.
I want my life back. I'm trying. I filed for a loan to pay off my credit card from vacations so I can put down the cost for the apartment. I registered for classes and filed my FAFSA and filled out my waiver fee.
My weight is everywhere. I hate it. 97 yesterday, 103 this morning....
Last night. Last night I slept walk and apparently passed out according to my mom. She gave me a Flexeril for my muscles which were aching terribly. Later she found me on the floor eating donuts and tossing the bready parts back in the box.
I don't remember.
Then I woke up to find myself drinking "Product of the Egg", a liquid egg mix, out of the carton. I remember before I woke up I thought it was chocolate milk. Fear and disgust flooded me as I realized what I had done. I went back to bed, too disgusted to do anything else.
Mom told me she put me to bed over three times last night, that I was a "raving lunatic." I remember none of it. She is going to hide her keys from me and get a lock for the fridge at night so I don't eat something that could kill me, like raw meat.
I'm scared. I did this before I went to Center for Discovery, but nothing this bad.
I really do have to stop. Or I will die.

4:26 AM - Sunday, Jul. 31, 2005
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dying - living