| Written by Diana, on 22-11-2001 05:28 |
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so i've been successfully fasting for 48hrs. I wish i could continue tomorrow but i know the spotlight will be on me at dinner. two army vets included in five drunken freaks. and then there's me, sober as a judge, hopefully not eating turkey on turkey day, them chowing down on hours de ovuors while me, sitting back with drink in hand, dreading each question that comes my way. How's Occidental? I dropped out to enter a mental hospital. How's riding, won anything lately? I had to stop riding because I was starving myself and hardly had enough energy to ride much less compete. You've gained weight since last year. Fuck you. OOOh God this is gonna be hell. They're touchy feely people and i am their antithesis. The humiliation commences in twelve hours. "You were treasured more than time or wealth, yet never saw the beauty in yourself." I'm told that's so me. I don't see beauty here, or anywhere for that matter. I spend five hours creating graphics I hate, though I know in my heart they're amazing. I hear compliments all the time...are they for real? Or just to make me feel better? Don't hate me because I hate myself. Words aren't enough for me, words lie. Numbers on a scale ring true, the numbers on a measuring tape, the mirror, though in reverse, tells no lies. Beautiful, with one L. Disfigurement of mind, body, and soul. A funhouse mirror replaces every reflection in every window, mirror, pond. I am NOT BEAUTIFUL! What right do you have to tell me I am?! You play with my mind! I trust no one!! Not even you, my most trusted confidant. Can you prove you tell no lies? Can anyone? Everyone tells lies, I am no different. But I lie when things are better kept secret. I do not compliment falsely, I do not lie about big things. I may not tell the whole truth but every word I say is accurate. The me you know is gentle, delicate, and frail. The me inside has strong beliefs and has no desire to hide them. I think mean thoughts and generally hate the world but that is not a terrible thing. It is me, it's who I am and when mixed with the lighter side, I am normal. NORMAL!! I fear this word like I fear failure. A word equally horrific. Faith means no more to me than self. What is this thing my head sits upon? Why is it mine? Why did you turn out so perfect and I, perfect like faulty wiring. Ready to ignite at any moment. A monument of err since birth. I fall, and until this thing beneath is almost gone, I will feel no pain. Maybe if they can't touch me they won't know I'm here. Ghostly white and skeleton thin, my hope is packed away. Packed in boxes of trophies, blue ribbons, and awards. Packed in notebooks documenting my success, my future, and my destiny. Where has it all gone? It's been locked away behind cardboard and tape, held captive by denial. It was luck, not skill or knowledge, not effort or belief. I was tied to greatness by shells, a ring of shells never further than my fingertips. Just a glance before I go on, I must know they're still there. They're not? Then I shall undoubtedly fail. I lost faith in those shells quite some time ago. And I have failed ever since. Sure i receive good marks, but good marks just made failing all that much harder to bare. I regret the friendships I've made, past and present. They've left me here, one by one, and laughed their wicked laugh. They tricked me into caring. Now I lie here, door locked, curtains drawn, waiting for...the end to come, some relief from pain...a little hope. I am misunderstood. They think I have all the answers to life. They've lived more years than I yet still, they ask why. Those have left thinking I gave them the world..but I give options. Options which may or may not be reasonable, but options they are. And this, a hope undoubtedly false, is hope enough to spur them on. It amazes me the things that make you smile. I look at people now and in stead of saying I'd die to look like you, I say how can you live with yourself. I hear my own telling me I'm wrong...then recover! But don't sit there and tell me how to live wile you're living like me. You have no right. Are you looking for sympathy? Because I'm fresh out. I have ears, knowledge with which to share if you desire, but I ask only for your ears. I ask not for your opinion of me or my life. They are mine and until you can live with that, I will have nothing to do with you. I dread sleep but I need my strength tomorrow, one of the most difficult days of the year...only 4 hours away.
Last update: 22-11-2001 05:28
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