But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast.

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Arrrgh!

Sometimes I wish I could make everyone okay. Or freeze a moment in time, a wonderful moment, and live in it forever.... But that isn't reality.
My mom's doing much better. She has stopped jibbering to herself. Now all she does is boss me around, yell at me from her bedroom, and complain. Its awful, but in some ways I think it was easier when she was sick.
"Gwen, why do you think you deserve everything? How dare you expect me to help you get an apartment or pay for your books!"
This was because I asked her how she expected me to pay for them if she doesn't want me to get a job. She says I am too ill for a job, too weak...
I am not too weak. She wants me to be sick. I mean it when I say I would rather be homeless than stuck here.
I keep muttering under my breath, "I hate you!"
Its stupid, childish, but at least it keeps me from screaming at her.
"Why is the kitchen such a mess? Ugh, this place is horrible. Bring me a soda. Gwen! Get back here!"
"Sorry mom, I haven't had time to mop the floor yet. I just finished doing ten loads of laundry, changing the sheets, and picking up the house!" I seethe. Why is she so ungrateful? I should have left with Kyle. He went to the motel in Palms tonight until we can get into the apartment in Santa Monica.
Its a struggle, every second. I want to binge and purge, to skip my insulin. I have binged a few times, though resisted puking my guts up or skipping my insulin....
Because I want the fuck out of here. Every time we drive into this town I feel its pull. Those who enter are stuck.
You have to fight to escape.
Here, there is no point in living.
I have to fight. I have to get out.

9:50 PM - Monday, Jan. 02, 2006
4 comments

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dying - living