But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast.

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I'm Still Here

Get up, get dressed, put on make-up to hide the pain and shame, smile so they don't know the truth, get straight As to hide the stupidity...
The old routine. I've fallen out of sync. A prisoner in my body.
Weak.
Tired.
Disgusting. Worthless. Ugly. Fat.
I should be dead. I'm not. Sugars spilling out in urine, breath reaking of ketones, a body screaming for more insulin.
Weights up. Ten pounds. Doctor suggest liver and kidney failure...
Turn off the home phone. No one wants the results. If you don't know then you can deny it.
I'm living a lie. I'm not really living. I'm not surviving. I just am.
Sometimes I even doubt that much.
Yes. I am going insane. Most likely from high sugars eating away my brain cells, depriving them of oxygen.
My arms hurt too much to type much more. My muscles burn from ketones.
Why am I writing this? I don't even know.
Please, don't worry.
I will be okay.

2:40 PM - Tuesday, Aug. 23, 2005
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dying - living