But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast.

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Nothing

Breathing. I could count every breath. I couldn't ignore it. The American Lung Association has a saying, "When you can't breathe, nothing else matters." Its the truth. I finally gave in. I took 35 units of Novalog.
I could breathe again.
Of course, consequences come with injections. I look in the mirror. Ugly. One of my eyelids is droopy. From purging? My fingers resemble little sausages and when I press on my feet it feels like kneading dough. I look around my room. An empty box once filled with a dozen donuts, three empty boxes of cookies... Disgusting. What a slob.
I know I need to change my sheets. Instead I brush the crumbs on the floor. What is the point? Perhaphs they will stay clean for an hour, and then more crumbs....
I took five sleeping pills yesterday. I fell asleep with a turkey wrap in my hand around midnight and woke up at 4:00am with it still there. Eyes closed and only barely awake I ate it.
The pain I put myself in is excruciating. My skin feels ready to rip from edema if I take my insulin. If I don't....
That is why I sleep 24/7. Partially because I'm exhausted but mainly because I can't stand eating like this. But I can't stop.
The insurance didn't call back. I wouldn't if I were them either. A chronic. A stupid ugly fat chronic. They should let me eat myself to death.
I should have never thought it would be different this time.
How dumb could I be?

11:59 PM - Thursday, Aug. 25, 2005
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dying - living