But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast.

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Treatment and Such

My insurance is calling back tonight with a list of treatment centers they will cover since I've been kicked out of every single one on their list or become too old.
I'm scared. I can't imagine being locked up again, having my life taken control of...
If I believed I could get better I would be eager to go.
The pain is leaving and relapsing. Its more excruciating then being locked up.
Silly girl. You could have had it all.... And you wasted it.

Eat eat eat. Still the same. Binge and purge.
I'm gaining. I look puffy as all hell. I've started to take a bit more insulin... Not much, but just a bit.... And I keep gaining.
Donuts, cookies, cakes, pies... How I hate her for buying them for me but the tizzy I would go into if she didn't.
I spilled ice cream on my bed last night. Too exhausted to clean it I threw a towel over it and pretended like it never happened.
I'm disgusting. Lying in a bed of crumbs, wrappers all around, soda cans in every corner and free space on the floor.
Eat, sleep, guzzle two more cans. As soon as my stomach isn't unbearably full I'm eating again. Every 70 minutes I consume over 1,000 calories. Then I sleep, wake, drink more soda, eat again, sometimes vomit, sometimes just let the sugars pour out in my urine...
I'm up to 105 pounds.
Disgusting.

12:04 PM - Wednesday, Aug. 24, 2005
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dying - living