But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- When The Only Way Out Is Up I seem to be a great dissapointment to people. I hate it so much. I hate who I am, who I have become. My mom decided to call my specialists at Stanford today and they decided that I really need to go up there. Shit. While I am this fat too. I hadn't eaten anything before therapy, but I had a rather intense session with my therapist and nurse. I feel like I am frustrating them to no end, possibly infuriating them. I guess I seem to have a reason for everything, an excuse to fail. I don't want to. I am just so afraid to go back to school. I am afraid of what everyone will say... Then I came home and ate. I ate quite a bit more than I intended to but I still took my insulin. I have to. I promised at therapy I would try, and now that my mom knows I haven't been it is going to be alot harder to escape. One good thing though. I managed to eat one cinnamon roll. I didn't follow that with a bunch of junk food. Wow. Progress. Then the little neighbor boy came over and asked me to help him on his JFK report which had me beaming. Of course I would help! Someone actually wants me to do something for them? A little boy actually came to me for help. I felt a bit less like shit. As he was looking at pictures of JFK on here and I was debating whether or not to take my shot he said, "Wow, look at all he had and now he is dead. That is what sucks about death. You don't have anything." I froze for a second. That hit me hard. I said, "Yea, that's true isn't it?" Then I offered him some food and sent him on his way, telling him to come back when he needs to start work on his display board. So now I sit very full and not wanting to binge. Insulin is amazing. Without it I could eat the house and still lose weight and still feel hungry and sick all the time. With it I can eat moderately and be healthy, but gain weight. I am so scared of what seems like the first steps toward recovery. What happens if I get better? What will I do then? I am so unprepared, lifeless, scared, ugly, stupid. I wish that I had never gone in the hospital. With those admissions went my sense of reality. The world around you goes on, but your world stops. Then, when you are released, you realize that the world didn't wait for you, and you are more behind than ever. Another reason that I can't be admitted, though it looks like unless a miracle descends I might be. I am trying so hard to take care of myself, I just don't know how long that can last. I feel really bad for everyone I exasperate. Kim, if you are reading this, I am so sorry for being such a pain in the ass. What I try to do is not bother anyone, yet in my attempt I bother everyone. In my attempt to kill myself in what I consider a not sucidal suicide, I have killed only my spirit and dragged others down with me. I can't apologize enough. I have become an indentured servant to this eating disorder, which turns everyone around it into a fighter for freedom. I suppose that is about all for now. Take care everyone. Thanks for listening to the ramblings of the dimented. Love Dimstar 5:23 p.m. - 2003-01-29 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------- |
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