Away for a couple weeks

Unfortunately, I haven't been feeling very well this weekend. And since I'll be away next weekend, there won't be a post next Friday either. Ah well -- no one much is reading anyway so far, so I don't have to feel too bad. To whoever does stop by: see you in a couple weeks.

Jan. 22, 1999.

You know, I think I'm going to give up on making jokes, because no one ever seems to like them. Or get them. Colin, Mom, Hannah, Dani, Izzy, Teddy, Dad... no one. Not that any of them really care about anything I do, at all.

I'm hurting again, can you tell? I'm in pain, once more. Not that there isn't always a little hurt in the corner of my soul.

I want to scream. I wish no one was home, so I could.

I think I'm going to cry, and I have no idea why I should feel like doing that. I can't help it. I've been so stressed lately, and now it's all coming back to me again.

D'you know, the nights before my math exam, almost a week ago, I was wigging so bad that I was actually afraid of the dark? Can you imagine? Me, who's loved the dark for years, reverting back to my feelings about it as a small child. I was so messed up, because I was so freaked I would fail.

I feel sick, like I'm going to throw up, but I never do, when I feel like this.

I want to just curl up and sob. Find a safe place to hide in, where someone who will be able to love, really love me, who I could love, can find me. A place where only people like that could find me, where I could cry out the pain and the hurt, and they would actually comfort, and care. Then, when my last drop of pain had fallen from my eyes, I would go off with them, to a place where we could all be together, and be happy.

I'm lonely again--no, make that still--too.

I want to tell Izzy off so bad. I can't express how much he annoys me, when I see him, now. He really gets on my nerves badly.

If he dares to tell me that "he'll call me" one more time, I will so tell him off. I'll be such a bitch to him. He can't bullshit me, and expect me to take it, to believe it, still, can he?

He thinks I'm an idiot, as far as I can tell. Yay, another person to treat me like I'm stupid.

He's a hypocrite, too, calling so many people immature. Ooh, and he's not? God, what a little bastard. I hardly want to be friends with him, anymore.

Most of my friends suck. Wow. Life's just grand.

I really need to cry. I'll be back later. Maybe not this morning, but some time soon.

Love eternal, and blessed be,

- Vale

Notes from 2010: January 22, 1999.

The fear of the dark thing is no exaggeration. I felt things like that pretty often, in my darker moments. I'm pretty sure there are entries further on that I recorded in the midst of, or immediately after, some of my really fucked up times, when I was at the limit of what I could take emotionally. They're still some of the scariest moments I've ever experienced. Being frightened of how horrible you're feeling, how much you hate yourself, and yet completely unable to turn those feelings off... it's a bad place to be.

And there I go wishing for a family of friends again. A group of people who I could really feel like I fit with, a place where I felt like I belonged. I never have found that again, since my junior high friends. Sometimes I wonder if it's something that no one much feels after they've grown up. And sometimes I'm pretty damn sure that it's unusual for me to not fit in anywhere--that most people have somewhere they feel like they fit in. Anyone out there have any feelings about that? I always wish I could ask other people--do you feel a sense of belonging anywhere? And if not, is that something you long for too?

Jan. 21, 1999.

A few more of my script writing/show-or-comic creating rules:

15) I will develop my characters immensely. I will not go from point A back to point A, Trek-like, for every episode or arc.

16) I will do spin-offs, most likely--if it seems to make sense. If I do, there will be cameos and crossovers.

17) I will do series which have nothing to do with one another. Why not go with more than one good, totally seperate, ideas at once? Or, one after another?

18) I will feel for and with my characters. I won't be insane about it, but I won't be stone, if I hurt one. I will feel their pain.

More later!

Jya, Nikki-chan!

- Vale

Notes from 2010: January 21, 1999.

The list-making continues. I still kind of really like number 18.

Jan. 19, 1999.

Now that exams are over, I'm going to do something that I'd wanted to do, but couldn't, a few days ago. I'm going to make some lists!

Not boring lists, though, don't worry--cool ones! ^_^

First:

Subjects I Will Never Take Again:

1. Physics!!! (ugh) *grins*
2. Math, after next year!
3. Chemistry
4. French, also after next year

See, I plan on saying "byebye, sciences, hellooo, arts!" when I go into undergrad.

Before I do the next one--well, actually, I'll incorporate this into the next one! It's nameless:

1) I will never not let myself be happy.

Hannah does that. She won't let herself be happy. I don't know if it's on purpose, but it's going to fuck her over tons of times, in her life. Hannah acts so proud of being down on the world, but it's so not good for you in the long run. I'm so totally glad I'm an optimist!

It's like she won't let herself feel happiness, or have fun. She says she didn't have fun with me, today--I figure, that's her problem. It's sad, but only she can fix this for herself, by letting herself have fun.

2) I will try to understand, but never assume that I do, unless I have been through the same thing.

3) I will subtly tell Izzy off, the next time he tries to bullshit me. If he says we're his "real, true friends", I'll laugh, and mock-jokingly say "yeah, right. You've got a wacky sense of humour, hon." Or something like that. Tell him that if we were his "true friends", he wouldn't constantly ditch us. If he says "I'll call you", I'll give him a slightly bitter smile and say "No. You won't."

There are others for this list--many, and I'll continue to add to it as I live, and grow, and change.

Oh, and one more:

4) If I ever get what I consider to be a real opportunity, I will go up to my Enigma Boy, and find out his name, and his age. I'll be scared shitless, but I'll ask him myself!

I've been looking for him everywhere, but I have yet to see him again. Any further sightings will surely be recorded, with subsequent drooling!

Now, another good one which I will add to as I go on in life:

Things I Will Do When I Have My Own T.V. Show(s) Or Comic Book Series:

1) I will not consider myself God. I won't do the Chris Carter thing people so complain about. I'll stay, to a good extent, humble and modest. I will not act almighty.

2) I will be very careful and particular with plot, scripts, themes, and their continuity. Unlike Joss, I can count.

3) I will not be afraid to risk major wrath, and kill main characters. People may hate me for it, but so be it. I'd rather have that, than just do the usual "let's-not-kill-anyone-important-off" thing. My way is more daring, and more interesting.

4) I will write & direct all the really important episodes of any TV series.

5) I will proof-read all scripts myself.

6) I will not go overboard with certain plot devices, character traits, characters, etc.

7) I will keep in mind that you can't please everyone all the time.

8) I will give my personal favourite characters, major or minor, lots of screen time.

9) I will still try to distribute screen time evenly amongst the characters.

10) I will join mailing lists & post on message boards, or whatever they'll have at the time, and see which characters the fans would like to see more of (like fan groups).

11) I will read and encourage fanfiction. I may even write some about my own and others' shows, if I have the time.

12) I will not take fan criticisms too personally, nor too much to heart, (see #7), but I will keep the reasonable ones in mind.

13) I will be open, personable (if, perhaps, still shy), and approachable to the fans.

14) I will never give up.

That's it for now! I'll add more as they come to mind!

Love ya, Nikki-chan!

- Vale

Notes from 2010: January 19, 1999.

List 1:

Math was never my strongest subject. Physics, which I took in grade 11, was the bane of my existence. Chemistry I could more or less wrap my head around at the high school level. (More advanced, not necessarily, but I did fine in my grade 11 class.) But physics and my brain just never clicked. I passed, but barely, and I had to work my ass off to manage it.

As for list 2:

1) I haven't quite managed this one. Getting in my own way less is something I'm actually trying to work on right now. And as usual, I was wrong about Hannah, who seems better than me at letting herself be happy these days. I'm glad for her, and I'd like to make myself more like that. I can kind of remember the conversation I'd had with her that day, where we'd been out doing something, and she said to me at the end that she mostly didn't feel like she was enjoying her life, and didn't feel like she'd had fun that day. In retrospect, she was clearly trying to tell me that she was feeling depressed, but unfortunately I was too self-involved to see that at the time.

2) This directly contradicts all the assumptions I was making about Hannah in number 1. Nonetheless, I do think this is a good idea, and it is something I still try to live by.

3) I fantasized about telling Izzy off a lot, but I never actually had the opportunity to do it. I'm still not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing--if it would have been cathartic, or just starting shit I didn't need to start.

4) This never happened. There were at least one or two times that might have been, for someone else, "real opportunities," but I never had the balls to try to strike up a conversation with Enigma Boy, whoever he was.

For list 3, while I still want (and an trying) to be a writer, I've moved away from the idea of writing for TV or having a comic book series of my own, for various reasons. A lot of these could apply to a novel series or whatever too, though, so I don't write them off. (Except the directly TV-related ones, and, for legal reasons, reading fanfic for an ongoing series in number 11.)

The Joss comment is referencing the significant change in Spike's claimed age over the course of Buffy, which at least once dropped by several decades. I love Buffy, but it did have some have some continuity issues (though I understand better now how that can happen when a show changes course, e.g. with Spike becoming a much more important character than he was originally intended to be).

Notice how I just assumed I would have my own series someday, and that it would be popular and I would be known as the creator--that I'd be a Name in TVland and/or Comicsland. And honestly, if I work hard enough, I still believe that could happen with one or more of the novel series I have in mind. Like I've mentioned, I've always been pretty ambitious.

Jan. 14, 1999.

Y'know, it's already the first set of exams--the first term.

I'm about seven-and-a-half months away from becoming a senior.

Wow.

I've been thinking a lot about future, the future, and the flow of time in general, lately.

Well, I guess that I always have spent more time than most people considering them, ever since I was old enough to try to comprehend, but, I've been doing it even more than usual, for the past few months.

I'm growing up. Faster than I ever imagined I would. It's wonderful, but more than a little scary. More than a lot scary, sometimes.

The whole exams thing, for some reason, seems very surreal, when I stop and think about it. I mean, my chemistry exam as not-exam-like while I was writing it! How's that for weird? *grins*

You know, in a few years--five, ten--I may not remember much about my current life. If I set aside this diary for a few years, once I was done with it, I could easily forget that a lot of this ever happened. And, when I did read the old entries again, I could either have it all come back to me, in a rush, or it could be like those fanfics I've started, where I can remember a little about it all (the story, I mean), when I read it, but, otherwise, I don't recall much plot, premise, nor what it was actually about.

In all honesty, I would like to forget a lot of this. I would have no problems forgetting that a lot of the things I've written about ever happened.

Jya-ne, Nikki-chan.

Wish me luck with it all.

- Vale

Notes from 2010: January 14, 1999.

So, ten years down the road--how much do I actually remember?

More than I thought I would. More than I hoped I would at the time, though I don't really wish I could forget anymore. All the shit I went through--the good, the bad, all of it--makes me who I am. And while I'm still very much a work in progress, I feel like where I am now is an okay starting point for where I'm trying to go. If I forgot the bad stuff... I think I'd lose a lot of the strength I've built up over the years. That would in no way be a good thing.

Reading these entries does sometimes trigger a memory I'd more or less forgotten about, and there are some things that are complete mysteries to me now--the odd name I can't associate any face or personality with anymore, some situation I referred to very obliquely that I can't fill in the blanks about. But for the most part, I remember it all pretty well. I can still remember what it was like to feel the things I felt back then. And yes, most of those feelings are only pale revenants of the real thing--but they are still there, locked away in my head. It's not like the half-written fanfics I mentioned, where I'd go back and read the two or three paragraphs I'd written, and not be able to remember where on earth I was planning to go with them. My past is still surprisingly vivid.

Wonder if it'll still be so clear in another ten years?

Jan. 11, 1999.

I no longer consider it unfair that Yvonne & Co. accept Hannah, bitch that she is, more than me, who's a nice person. I am not any longer bothered by their being more friendly with her than with me. Not even by their hardly being civil to me. I don't want to be friends with them. I don't envy them their friendships at all.

They're superficial, fake, unkind, and, worst of all, they're totally conforming. Do I want to be a part of that? No. I want people to accept & care about me for me, not who I pretend to be, or who they think I am.

Yvonne and James are not terribly unkind to me, but obviously they find my presence distasteful. I'm not like them. I can hear it in their voices that they wish I'd shove off, and leave them be. Whatever. They don't know me. Why should I care if they dislike whatever the hell they think I am?

And, when Yvonne started getting annoyed while I was messing with my bag, and thanking that girl: can we say bitch? God, she, Hannah, James--they deserve each other. I don't really like any of them.

Therefore, I don't give a flying fuck what they think of me! They don't count for anything. Not a smidge. They may as well be non people, for all their opinions matter to me, now!

Can you tell that I'm pleased with myself, and totally revelling in my newfound I-don't-give-a-shit-what-the-fuck-you-thinkness? *grins* I am sooo proud that I've gotten over that silly "why don't they like me??" stage!

They count for naught! Silly people, not worth any attention! Alyssa--now that's a person who's still nice. She treats me like a peer--like a person, not a student/punching bag, nor an idiot who knows shit. She obviously doesn't think I'm stupid, and I know that she's not. I've hung out with her a couple times, in the last week, or so--it's cool. I'd like to keep doing it, but I'm not getting my hopes up. I know better than that. I'm cautious, and a tiny bit hopeful, but that's it.

God, Hannah is so becoming less and less tolerable. She sticks her hand out in front of my face, as I'm walking through the halls. Can she not get past that stage?

I'm sor

No, I'm not sorry. I was going to say that, but I'm not. At all. I swear, though, I am so sick of the whole beating-each-other-up thing we used to do in, like grade nine. I'm past it. It's just totally not funny anymore. I grew up, and out of that, earlier this year, once and for all. Once in awhile, it's still fun, but she wants it to be the constant thing, and I don't, anymore.

I think she might be getting that idea, just the tiniest bit, finally. I would hardly give her a response, at lunch, when she tried to bring it up.

What is her childhood trauma?! Why can she not give the hell up one all of that?

If she wants to keep my friendship, she's going to have to grow up, and stop doing it all the time. Once in a long while it'll still be fun, but that's it.

Can she not mature? It's childish, not childlike, how she acts.

And she talks down to me?

What shit is that?

I so cannot put up with that for another year and a half. If it lasts too much longer, and I bet that it does, then I will have to speak to her about it. Failing that (I'll have to try a few times, before she'll listen, but I'm not going to totally do it all. I won't try to force it on her, nor will I expend a huge amount of effort, if she gives nothing in return), I will stop spending so much time with her. I'll let our friendship fade and die, but I will not regress to accomodate her childish ways. It's her turn to change, to make the effort. I won't force it on her, but it'll be her loss, too, if she won't give me anything back.

I can't and won't keep putting up with this. It's not fun, nor funny any longer, as I said before, and it's turning into a minor sort of abuse.

It's nothing I need, want, nor have to put up with.

And, know what? I won't. I'll stand my ground on this one. I won't take shit from her which I don't deserve. And that is, for the most part, none of it. Hellooo, assertive me! I need to get like this constantly!

I think I've started down a wonderful, and necessary, albeit potentially painful, road! Go me!

Wish me luck, Nikki-chan! I wish you the best in everything you do, too! ^_^

I can hear you cheering me on! "Goooo meeee!!!" *laughs*

Blessed be and love eternal, Nikki-chan!

- Vale

Notes from 2010: January 11, 1999.

Yvonne was someone Hannah and I had been fairly good friends with in late elementary school and junior high. She'd found, frankly, cooler friends than us by the end of junior high--for good reason, since nerdy was never really her bag--but by grade eleven her friends and my and Hannah's group would sometimes hang out together during lunch and free periods, since we all had some friends in common.

My jealousy of Hannah's easy ability to fit in with Yvonne's friends really shines through here, in all its ugly light. Sadly, I didn't recognize it as that at the time. Though even if I had, I don't know if I'd have had the inner strength to curb it.

Hannah could be a little immature, but I don't feel like she was ever abusive, to any degree. She was just struggling to grow up, just like I was, and clinging to physical jokes that we used to pull on each other longer than I was comfortable with. If anything, I'm pretty sure I was heinously passive-aggressive with her. I'm just thankful that I never did try to cut her out of my life, since I can't imagine not having her as a friend now.

From my current, more objective standpoint, I don't think Yvonne and her friends were especially uncivil to me. As I remember it now, they reacted like a lot of people do when faced with someone painfully shy: tried to draw me out, found it really difficult, and gave up pretty quickly. It sucks for the incredibly shy person, but from the other person's perspective, it's a completely understandable reaction. It can take a lot of work to bring a shy person out of their shell, and if they're not your friend and not someone you're interested in becoming friends with... why would you bother? But I was so, so sensitive about being ignored like that--also for very good reason, since I'd been criticized for being shy for as long as I could remember. (Sometimes I still am, though I can usually laugh it off now.) So in just about any social situation, I was working my ass off to be the outgoing, easy-to-be-with person I thought I was supposed to be. It hurt like hell when no one seemed to notice, especially since I knew that ultimately it was all because I was still doing something wrong.

As you'll see in this and numerous other entries, I would frequently rebel against that feeling that I needed to change for people to like me by declaring that I would never change for anyone. Instead, I would look for people liked me for what I was, and fuck everyone else. Then I would go back to school the next day and once again find myself trying like hell to be the outgoing person I wasn't. I was always trying to convince myself I didn't give a shit what anyone thought of me anymore, because I was sure if I could manage to really, honestly not care about that, I would be able to relax enough to just be myself and not worry about what to say, how to act, or any of that anymore. I was actually thinking along the right lines, but I had no idea how to get there. I never did manage it until I was in my early 20s (and--full disclosure--in therapy).


Finally: anyone who can spot the Buffy quote in this entry gets a cookie.*




*the cookie exists only in Vale's imagination. However, she assures you that if it were real, it would be very, very delicious.

Jan. 9, 1999: Entry 2.

"Maybe I can find a place I can call my home
Maybe I can find a home I can call my own."
- Loreena McKennitt

Isn't that what we all want? What we all wish for?

A place to be home; a place to be yours. It's what I want. A place, a home, a life all my own.

I'm constantly thinking of past, present, and future. I'm a wonderfully contemplative person. No wonder I can write so very well.

I will, some day, find friends, and people to love me, who I can do the same for, in return. I hope that I will, someday, even find a boyfriend, or a girlfriend, to love with all my heart. It seems unlikely, just at this particular time in my life, but, as I said yesterday--a girl can dream, can't she?

I know that there's inherent trust, there--I am a dreamer. I am an idealist, and an optimist, and, in the long run, I know that I will be happier, and better off than most, for it.

Know what? I am. And I will be. And I will do and be my best. And, I will succeed. Not to show anyone up, not to prove myself to any but my own self. No, I will succeed only because it's what I want to do; what I want to happen.

What I want to be.

After all, I'll only live this life once.

Why not make the best of it?

I'll make it wonderful, because I want and need it to be. No bad ifs, ands, or buts about it. Only the good ones.

I will make it be so. And, so, it will be done.

So Mote It Be.

Blessed be, Nikki-chan.

- Vale

Notes from 2010: January 9, 1999: Entry 2.

The lyrics are from "Dickens' Dublin" by Loreena McKennitt. It's a beautiful song. I still love it, for pretty much the same reasons I did back then. I'm still trying to find a place that really feels like home, and people I have that close connection with. I still hope that I might. I'm still fundamentally a dreamer and an idealist--though I'm not so sure about the optimist part.

I'm surprisingly positive about myself in this entry. It's nice to see.

You can also see my ambitious streak coming through here. I'm still hell-bent today on making something of myself in some way that feels meaningful, and I still have hope I might achieve that. It's always been about proving myself to myself. It still is. I've always wanted to do something that mattered in the world, and I'm still reaching for that goal with everything I do. I guess that's a big part of why I'm here tonight, updating this blog.

And if I try really, really hard, I just might be able to find a way to use "still" one more time in this commentary before I'm done with it. Hey, there we go! Mission accomplished.

Jan. 9, 1999: Entry 1.

Nihao, Nikki-chan.

I should be studying, so this'll probably be short.

I've got nothing in particular to say--just needed to write. I just finished Lord of the Vampires. **Incredible** book! That series is my favourite that I've ever read. It's wonderful!!! I'm glad beyond words that it wasn't just a sad ending for everyone. I'm glad (more than glad, ecstatic) for them all who lived happily ever after, in the end. I will miss them, but I will read the books over, and over, and over, so we will not be parted for long.

Why does it frighten me, to think about the guy I was telling you about yesterday? It half terrifies me to contemplate him, now. Is it because I'm afraid of making a fool of myself, or rejection? Or is it because I'm afraid of actually someday loving someone intensely? Or is it something about him himself, which causes fear to come into my heart, when I think about him? Is my fear tangible, or is it irrational? Could it be because he may be so much older than I? Or, could it be something else?

Ahh, this is the sort of magickal, wondrous night when I wish I was out driving. Driving nowhere in particular, or on my trip cross-continent. Or, perhaps, living on my own, and singing, and dancing around alone in my apartment.

Something pulls me, calls to me, on nights such as this one. I can't explain it, but it's always there. On nights like this, it's so much stronger than on other ones. I love it, this pull on me, and I only wish that I could follow where it leads me, but, as yet, I cannot.

Someday, I will find out. Someday, I swear it.

Someday.

I want to get into a car, and drive, just drive, where the wind bids me go. It's Somewhere far from here, but I know nothing more than that.

It may not even be anywhere I can get to just by car. I don't know.

I best go study my chemistry, now, Nikki-chan. I'll probably write another entry in you later tonight.

Love eternal,

- Vale

Notes from 2010: January 9, 1999: Entry 1.

The book series I reference at the beginning of this entry is the Covenant With the Vampire series by Jeanne Kalogridis, a trilogy that serves as backstory to Dracula. I'm not the superfan I was back then, but I'd still recommend her books to anyone who likes the original Dracula.

I should probably be mortified to admit this, but I can still get that fannishly excited about a story I'm really, really into--be it a book, TV show, movie, manga or comic series, whatever. And relatable characters have always been the most important factor for me in whether I connect with a story. Back then there was the extra layer of helping to alleviate some of my loneliness: I barely had any real friends, but feeling emotionally connected with characters in books helped me feel less completely alone in the world. On the other hand, knowing that imaginary characters were the closest thing I had to friends could also make me feel that much more lonely and depressed when I was in a self-hating mood. But losing myself in stories I loved was one of the healthier coping mechanisms I had, and one of the ones I'm glad I've held onto. When I need it, it still works for me.

"Enigma Boy" comes up again in this entry, much to my current-day chagrin. I'm pretty sure the fear was plain old fear of rejection and making a fool of myself, though I guess I can't say with absolute certainty that it wasn't more than that. Full disclosure: I've done a 180 with the whole "hopeless romantic" thing in the last 10 years, in that I would have called myself one when I was in high school, and barely consider myself at all romantic (at least in the love sense) today. I find it hard not to write off high-school-Vale's feelings in crush entries, because I just so don't think that way anymore. So if my commentary on that stuff seems a bit cynical, that's why. I'll try to keep the snarkier cynicism at bay as much as I can. I don't want to alienate anyone--but I do reserve the right to make fun of myself at least some of the time. I mean, ten years from now I'll probably be laughing at a bunch of the shit I've got up to in my 20s, you know?

One thing that I can still get all starry-eyed romantic about is wanderlust. I still feel like that sometimes--like I want to just jump in my car, start driving, and figure out where I'm going whenever I happen to get there. I haven't managed a cross-continental road trip yet, but I would still love for that someday to come. Who knows, maybe I'll eventually set aside some time to make it happen. I kind of love that that's a possibility now.

"Nihao" means "hello" in Mandarin Chinese.

Jan. 8, 1999.

I'm confused.

I've been asking myself, lately, if you can have a crush on someone you've never actually met. Each time, I tell myself no.

I still keep asking.

I've passed by him twice on the street. Long, black leather duster-ish coat. Black jeans. Maybe a red shirt, the first time I saw him--I can't remember (how can I not remember?). Bleach blonde hair with brown roots. Longish hair--about the perfect length. Not the most beautiful face in the world--but, oh God, his smile, and the wonderful, enigmatic, almost dangerous look in his eyes... He's amazing. If his personality is half as incredible as his smile, I would give so much to get to know him.

I know that I know nothing about him, and that the only reason why I could really have a crush on him is because I've made things up about him in my head.

What I'd like is to get to know him, so that I can crush on him, or not, for real.

Others pale against him, right now. Except for Skylark, of course--I think I'd still prefere her to him, because I like her for what I know she is.

But, other than her... that cute guy, Adam, in my English class? Nothing. The cutie from the lunch room? Not a chance. That guy, Ethan, from last year's art class wouldn't even stand a chance now.

Y'see, my bleach blond boy is a bit of an enigma--his smile, the look in his eyes, how I don't even know his name. I'm good at guessing approximate ages, but I can't tell if he's 18 or 28! He's so cool looking.

He dresses so vampire--so Spike, to be exact! The long, leather or faux leather coat, the jeans, the hair... if it was intentional, well, even better!

Hmm.. Enigma Boy. I like it. He seemed to smile right at me when I passed him, and when I was across the street from him, and kept glancing. He did the same, I think, when I saw him the first time, too.

I wouldn't give up anything that would affect/effect me majorly in the future to get to know him, but less than that, I would.

I would love to at least learn his name, and his age. And if he is really into vamps, or if he just dresses like that for the hell of it and 'cause he likes the styles.

If he really is into vamps, and dresses vampire-ish intentionally, well, then he'd be even cooler than I already think he could be. If he had a bitchin' personality, that is, of course.

*laughs* Wishful thinking, much? I bet that nothing ever comes of all this. But, a girl can dream, can't she?

Love eternal,

- Vale

Notes from 2010: January 8, 1999.

My modern day answer to the question I pose in the first lines of this entry? Pfft, no. Don't be naïve.

The guy I talk about in this entry (and who will, sadly, continue to be mentioned in other entries for a while) was some dude who looked vaguely like Spike from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. That was the entire basis for the "crush": since I didn't know anything about the guy except what he looked like, I could pretend to myself that he was actually somewhat like Spike. (Spike and Faith were my big character crushes on Buffy. Yes, I've always liked the badasses. Still do.) I never knew his name, never spoke to him, never had any actual contact with him. It wasn't even really worthy of being called a crush, but I was lonely and painfully shy enough that it passed for that at the time. Hey, at least I was mostly honest with myself about there being no real basis for my feelings. I've always been pretty self-aware about shit like that.

Once again, I talk about the idea of giving something (but not too much) up for the opportunity to get to know him. I was all about bargaining with my Gods in those days. I still think that way sometimes, those less often now.

Jan. 6, 1999. (ED trigger warning)

Just a quick note, Nikki-chan. To quote from Go Ask Alice: "I'm going to start a diet this very day... Not one more bite of chocolate or nary a french fried potato will pass my lips till I've lost (my number inserted) 20 globby pounds of lumpy lard."

I gained back two or three pounds, so I'm going to not eat a single snack until I've at least gone back to 154, or so! How could I possible have gained so much weight?! I haven't been exercising less (I'm going to start doing that every day as soon as exams end), nor eating more, except for a little lapse today. How can I be getting fat again?! I'll lose at least 18 pounds, though, and get down to my ideal weight of 140 pounds! That would be wonderful! And, I'll stick to my "one sweet thing per day" rule religiously from now on! Once I allow myself to snack again, that is--none at all, until I'm back to what I should be for now: 154!!

I don't like how I look, now--I can see the excess fat on my body. I know that I still weigh less than I did before the 20-whateverth of December, but that's so not the point! Just being less than 160 isn't good enough. I need to be thin!!! Or muscular--both, preferably! Gym membership, here I come!

Now, though, I have to get back to studying for exams.

Wish me luck, Nikki-chan!

- Vale

Notes from 2010: January 6, 1999.

I mention Go Ask Alice again in this entry. Despite being a complete teetotaler (lame as hell word for it, but I've never felt like it would be quite truthful to call myself straight edge, so there it is), I identified deeply with some of the shit Alice goes through as an addict: how lost she is for most of the book, and how her diary is sometimes her only friend and all that keeps her sane. I know now that the book has been heavily edited and fictionalized to drive home the "drugs are evil & wrong" message, but despite having to take it all with a grain of salt, it's still a book that means a lot to me because it was so close to my heart back then. I still have a copy of it around somewhere, and it'll probably always have a home on my bookshelf.

ED trigger alert: The dieting stuff. I've had body image issues pretty much since puberty, and I definitely ate to comfort myself as a teenager, though I didn't think of it that way at the time. I always felt fat and unattractive, and had no confidence whatsoever in my looks. I was constantly making resolutions to diet and exercise more, following them for a short time, then giving up. I did tend to lose weight during musical, since rehearsals kept me busy and I probably didn't have as much time to sit around and eat, but I gained it all back as soon as the musical ended. I was also a late bloomer with fashion and makeup, so I was just starting to get into that in tenth and eleventh grades. Sadly, my body image bullshit hasn't changed significantly in the past decade, and has been compounded by an ED-NOS (Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified--i.e. doesn't quite fit into any of the official eating disorder categories--for those of you lucky enough not to know the lingo) that I'm somewhat recovered from. Logically, I'm aware that I'm in much better shape now than I was as a teenager. But I still feel fat and ugly most of the time.

Dec. 30, 1998.

Just in case I don't get to say it later, Happy North American New Year, Nikki-chan!!! *laughs*

Wow--it's almost the turn of the century. And, also almost the end of the millennium... A weird thought, isn't it? I think so.

I've been sort of depressed, lately. I really need to find new friends. I don't want to ditch Dani, or even Hannah, or Izzy, but I need friends who actually live around here (Dani's out), and who I can stand (Hannah's out), and who give a shit about me (Izzy's out). I really have to try to find people, but I probably won't until I leave.

I was thinking, about an hour ago, how long it is, still, until I graduate from grade 12. I figured out that it's not so long as it seems to be. See, in a couple days, it'll be January. February is already half-way through the school year. And, by April, it's going to be seeming more and more like spring. It'll be warmer, sunnier, the snow'll be melting, everything'll be blooming, the sky will be that much bluer--I love spring! I really do. Summer's my favourite, then spring, then winter, then fall.

It's really not all that long until spring begins, and then it's just two and a half short months until summer's here. It'll be another boring, sit-around-at-home, friendless summer, but it'll be summer, and then I'll be a senior. And, I'll be applying to collages. I'll need to take the SATs some time, won't I? No matter what, I'll refuse to tell Hannah what my score is, if I do take them--especially my math score!!! I doubt that I'll do too well, and even if I do, I don't want her to go into competetive mode, and compare her marks with me, trying to justify how I could possibly be better than her at something. *rolls eyes* Such an inferiority complex that girl has. She can be such a bitch!

But, I'll tell mom that I'd like to take them, over the summer, so that I can try it again, if I do horribly.

I may not even tell Hannah that I'm taking them at all. Just do it silently, and cheer all by myself about how I do. It's something I think would be a good idea, though. I may not get into the universities I want around here, and they may not even have the programs that I'd need. I'd like to check out all the American-type places which would work for me, too. Maybe I could even be schooled in California--maybe even Hollywood, which would be bitchin' for an aspiring film writer!

I doubt it, but what the hell! A girl can dream, ne? *laughs*

So, the SATs are a definately good idea. I wonder how I can get a green card, too, if I move to the States to write? I'll have to find all that out, too, but it won't be an issue for quite awhile, I don't think.

Hmmm... the future. It seems so close, now. It's a little scary, but really pretty nice, when you get right down to it!

I'm feeling a little better now, so I think I'll go watch some TV!

Thank you, Nikki-chan. You're a wonderful friend and confidant!

Love and hugs,

- Vale

Notes from 2010: December 30, 1998.

This is my final entry from 1998 and the first part of eleventh grade. A bit of a pensive entry, but not too down. I talk about being depressed, but there's a lot of optimism here too, which is nice to see.

It becomes obvious in this entry that I'm not American. Hannah had taken the SATs because she was fairly certain she wanted to go to a US university, and had scored very well. I was considering taking them because I wanted to option of applying to US schools. I didn't end up taking them at that point; and if I had, there is no way I would have beaten Hannah's score--she is extremely smart and well-rounded.

In this case, I did follow up on the idea some years later, scored reasonably well, and got accepted to an American college for a second degree. Despite all my bitching and moaning in this entry, Hannah has been one of the ones to reassure me that just because I didn't ace the math section of the test doesn't mean I'm bad at math, and that I underestimate my non-arts intelligence. As you'll hear me say over and over: she's a good friend.

I did study film for a while, and decided it wasn't for me after all. I never did go to school in California, and I have a sneaking suspicion that I would be eaten alive if I tried to find my way into Hollywood. I still fucking love the weather in L.A., though.

Dec. 26, 1998.

There are times when I can't believe how huge my ego is! See, today, when I went on one of the chats, Brodie was on, and we were doing the whole joking-flirting thing that a lot of people there do with their friends, and I just started thinking "what if Brodie really does have feelings for me?"

I know, I know, really egotistical! I can't believe how swelled my ego must be, to think things like that! *rolls eyes, grins* So, anyway, I called him the "third big brother I never had", and hoped that that would make things clear, just in case, although my rational mind knows that it's totally needless! He so isn't crushing on me, or anything so silly as that, and I know it, even if I do worry a little that he might be, 'cause that'd just be ew!

Let me just give the reasons why this would never work, so that I can deflate my own over-sized ego a bit!

First of all I'm way too young for him! He's 20 or 21, and I'm 16. I won't go out with anyone over 19, IRL, although in c-space, my standards would be different. But, that's just too much of an age difference! Second, he's my bud, and I'm his! Why would either of us ever want to ruin that? Sure, I used to have a mini-crush on him, but that was so long ago as to be of no consequence, whatsoever! Nuh-uh, no way, nope! Not a chance! What else... well, most importantly, there's the fact that people, male and female both, don't think about me like that! Not as romantic relationship material, I mean. Both IRL, and in c-space, I'm a just-friends, one-of-the-guys-with-a-twist sort of girl! Guys (i.e,. Brodie) aren't interested in me, with the single exception of my ex-c-guy, and girls aren't interested in me, either (i.e., Skylark).

Hopefully, others will begin to show interest, as I get older, or even sooner, although I highly doubt that the latter will happen. I would like to have a boyfriend, eventually! Or a girlfriend, if I found someone nice--like Skylark, ne?

I still hold out hope. I may actually outright ask her, once I learn her age, if she's not many years older than me! We'll see. I may chicken out at the last moment--I guess I'll find out eventually! Anyway, any ideas about people crushing on me are so obviously all in my head, and it's actually sort of funny that I think they might think of me like that! *grins, chuckles*

So long! *love and kisses, Nikki-chan!*

- Vale

Notes from 2010: December 26, 1998.

Clearly the idea of an older guy I respected possibly having a thing for me seemed all "ooh, exciting!" at the time. I am absolutely confident that Brodie had no interest in me. I'm pretty sure he had a serious girlfriend. But it was a minor confidence boost to imagine that someone could maybe find me attractive.

As embarrassing as this entry is, at least it's an up moment mixed in with the down ones. Hence including it (and others like it), despite being tangential to the main theme of this blog. I don't want this to be all depression, all the time. There were other sides to my life too, and it would feel dishonest to exclude those entries. I want this to be as full a picture as possible of who I was as I can manage, while keeping this anonymous.

The "ex-c-guy" I mention was some dude I "cyber dated" for a month or two, primarily because all my friends were into that and I didn't want to be left out. Not a relationship I put much stock in, even while I was involved in it. Thankfully, I don't think he particularly did either.

Dec. 23, 1998.

It's raining outside, and it's loud, and windy, and beautiful. I need to write soon. So that I won't let my co-author down. I'll do that soon. I'll try.

I haven't seen Skylark again, yet. I get a bit restless when I wish that I could see her, and she doesn't come on.

Maybe I should try calling to her, with my mind and heart, as I've done before. It worked, at least one time that I did it, if not several. What I would give to have her be as attracted to me as I am to her...

I do more than just lust after her, now. I would give so much to get to know her personally, and more for us to fall in love with each other... Though, nothing would I give which would effect my life too far in the future, and nothing I hold truly important. In the cosmic sense, ours would be a passing romance, but I would still give much for it to happen.

Skylark, if only you knew how I feel... and could find it within yourself to return my feelings with equal strength... And, if only our love could grow into something huge, and beautiful, and wonderful...

I... would like to love you, Skylark. If you'd give me the chance.

*sighs, smiles a little*

Oyasumi nasai, Skylark-chan. Nikki-chan.

Sleep well, both of you.

Love eternal

- Vale

Notes from 2010: December 23, 1998.

I was attempting to co-author a Sailor Moon fanfic with someone I'd met online, which is the writing I talk about at the beginning of this entry. Sadly, I procrastinated too much to uphold my half of the story.

I also talk a little about magick here--"call to her with my mind and heart" and all that.

Even then, though I thought of myself as a "hopeless romantic" (which is far from the case these days), there was a limit on how much I was willing to consider sacrificing for love. I have usually drawn very strong lines between crush feelings and actual love, and unrequited and romantic love (though you'll see them blur in my mind with my crush on Mark in future entries), and there have always been things in my life that are more important to me than finding "true love". The potential for success, for instance. The ability to write. There are things I would never give up for the love of anyone, and that's always been the case. Some things are just worth more than that.

"Oyasumi nasai" means "good night" in Japanese. "-chan" is a Japanese diminutive used for young girls and close female peers.

Dec. 22, 1998.

I swear to God, I am trying to lose my crush on Skylark. I really am. I wasn't so excited as I usually am, last time I saw her on--last night--but, when she left, I felt such disappointment... I wish that I'd talked to her more, so she would have stayed. It's so much easier not to crush on her when she's not around...

But, I so love seeing her that it's worth any pain, ne?

It's times like this that I wish I was a guy. If I was, I'd flirt like mad with her. Maybe even end up going out with her. But it's never to be, so... I'll just have to hope that either she shows interest in me, too, or that I get over it, and move on.

I wish I had someone I could talk about this with. But, there's no one who I trust enough and would feel comfortable sharing my secret with. I'd talk to Dani, but I would feel way to uncomfortable telling her that my crush is a girl.

So, like everything else I feel, I'll just have to deal with it by myself, ne? I do it all the time with painful emotions, so this should be an easy thing to contend with, in comparison.

Ah, Nikki-chan, would that everyone were as patient and caring as you. Then, this, none of this, would be at all a problem. But, this is one of those "you can't always get what you want" things that I'm just coming to accept--few people are. I tend to be, but people like me are rare, special, and wonderful. At least a few of us do grace this world with our presence.

At any rate, back to the matter currently at hand. I hope to see her again, soon--if I do, then I'll just talk to her as I would any normal friend. no flirting, no kissing of hands, nothing. The closest I'll come will be to say that I wish I could get her a Christmas gift. If things could only go as they do within my head, she'd then respond with "talking to you is gift enough for me," but in her beautiful, romantic way of speaking.

Of course, that is far too much for me to ask for. Which hurts, but I know that I'll survive this, as I do everything else.

Skylark will probably never fall in love with me, but at least she'll, I hope, become my friend.

I guess that I can't ask for much more than that, much as I'd like to. My Lord and Lady have more important matters at hand than one of their childrens' lovelife. *smiles* I'm not being at all sarcastic--I know that they'd help me, if I ever truly needed it. Now is just not a time when I do.

I'll ask Skylark, next time I'm so lucky as to see her, if she'd mind my asking her age. Maybe she'll be only 13 or 14, anyway, which would kill any and all romantic notions I have about the poor girl. I wonder if she knows? How I feel about her, I mean. She surely isn't stupid, which means that, unless it grosses her out, and she's explained it away to herself in some other fashion, she probably does. But, if so, she chooses to ignore it.

I can't help but wonder (because of my slight egotism) if perhaps she feels the same way about me, and that's why she left so quickly yesterday--because I wasn't talking to her?

But, I know that this isn't true. Unless she's just way better at hiding it than I am, and I'm sure that's not it.

Wish I could take one of my hours long walks just now--go to all my secret places, and sit, and watch, and write, and take pictures...

But, it's too cold, and it may be icy. I really wish that I lived in a place where it never got this cold.

I need some time alone. To think. And, I need to be in a place I'm in tune with, to really be able to think as much, as well, and as clearly as I need to do. So, my dilemma may not even resolve itself until spring. If it's even resolved then.

At least it's not an IRL thing. That would be even more awkward than everything already is...

I hope and even pray with all my heart that I will see Skylark again soon. Maybe I'll even presume to ask her real name, but I doubt it. I won't flirt, though, unless she is blatantly obviously flirting with me. And, not only would that never happen (though I so wish it would), even if it did, I'd probably not flirt back, just in case I was misinterpreting her motives and actions.

If only someone would c-attack her, and I could help in defending her... or, if she'd let me really get to know her, and take the time and make the effort to let me do the same...

Then, maybe, something would happen like I wish it to.

But, even then, likely not.

I'll keep hoping, but I'll do my very best not to scare her off.

Wish me luck, Nikki-chan. Love always and eternal

- Vale

Notes from 2010: December 22, 1998.

I actually get a little egotistical in this post. I'm almost impressed that I could still get that up myself at this point.

I don't think I ever saw Skylark again after this entry, so the whole becoming friends thing never happened. Probably for the best, really--I have no idea what she thought of me (though I'm reasonably certain she knew I was a girl), but unless she happened to be queer too, I was probably creeping her out. Whatever the case, she was never anything but pleasant to me.

I did continue to identify as bisexual, happily, and I became increasingly more comfortable with that as time went on. In 1998, still very early on in my coming out process, I would still have taken the mythical "straight pill" if someone had offered it to me. A year or two later that had already changed, and I wouldn't have given up being bi for any reason. In the present day my sexuality is one of the parts of my personality I am most confident in, comfortable with and certain of. (I actually prefer to identify as pansexual now, though I'll still call myself bisexual for simplicity at times, depending on who I'm talking to.) Looking back on the early days kind of makes me smile.

Sadly, the note about being glad my unrequited crush wasn't "an IRL thing" was prophetic. And, yes, you will get to see just how pathetic and awkward all that gets in some later entries. God, does all that make me squirm now.

Dec. 5, 1998.

Let's see--a car, driving lessons, a new computer.

The first two I definately need to pay for myself. The third, I ought to pay for, myself. I mean, I'm the only one who uses it, right? So, I need several thousand dollars.

Where can I get that? The driving lessons I have pretty much taken care of. I definately need a job, now.

Only a few days to go, ne?

I'll be doing what Iris does, I guess. My homework, job-type-work, and musical rehearsals. Plus, if I continue, my improv class once a week,

But, I really need a job. Both for the new computer, or at least repairs on the old one, and for a car.

And, once I have that, university, so that I don't have to stay in this hell hole for years to come.

I'm going to go write Sheila now. I'll probably come back to this later.

Jya-ne.

- Vale

Notes from 2010: December 5, 1998.

I mention Iris for the first time in this entry. I'm a little surprised that it's taken this long for her name to come up, but I like to think it's because I had so few issues with her, she didn't have a place in the more ranty entries.

Sheila was a c-penpal I can't remember anything much about anymore.

You see my independent streak coming through again here. I was, in the moment, dead serious about wanting to do everything myself. But because I was always speaking in anger when I swore to make it completely on my own, I was never much for the follow-through. I never did get my first paying job until the summer after I graduated from high school.

I also mention the school musical for the first time. I was in the extended chorus--i.e. the people who had to be included because the staff in charge wasn't allowed to turn anyone away if they wanted to be involved. Witness my amazing talent for performance. Musical rehearsals were, more often than not, miserably lonely for me, especially since Iris had to drop out of the chorus due to lack of time. I stuck with it--to this day, I'm not entirely sure why--and that becomes important later on in terms of some people I meet through rehearsals, and my big (silly) high school crush, which I developed there.

Nov. 30, 1998.

"Hide not your Talents; they for Use were made. What's a Sundial in the Shade?" - Benjamin Franklin

We are all losers to someone else.

We are all heroes to someone else.

We are all idols to someone else.

We are all beautiful to someone else.

Keep this in mind.

You are wonderful.

- Vale

Notes from 2010: November 30, 1998.

I had my positive moments. I still like this entry, and the quote that starts it off.

Nov. 22, 1998.

This should be a short one.

More out of necessity--I need to keep studying, or fail another assignment. I went to Colin for help with math, but he was on the phone. He'll probably forget about me. That's what people tend to do.

Izzy called me tonight. He asked me to feed his pets while he's away. What am I to him? Does he consider me a friend, still? I am asking sincerely... I really wish that I could know. At the moment, I've no idea. He, and his parents, obviously consider me trustworthy, but I don't know if he thinks of me as a friend anymore. I can hardly say I think of him as one. I don't really know him. Not anymore.

I rather miss having a best friend.

It really was a nice thing, having someone who I really felt I knew, could confide in, and could believe in. Of course, it didn't last. Nothing one believes in ever does. Love, friendships, everything fades.

"Nothing beautiful
Nothing beautiful lasts"

So, of course I am feeding them--I like his pets. His cats are sweeties. But, our friendship is pretty much lost, I'm afraid to say, and is likely irreperable.

I have, no longer, a best friend. I've known that for some time now, but I wanted to write the words. It makes it more real, which is probably a good thing. I need to deal, and move on. I can survive alone--it'll just hurt for awhile. For as long as I am alone, it will hurt. But, I will find people who love me, and the pain will die.

For now, I wish I could just be saved. Be happy again.

One day, when I'm older, I'll read back through these. And I'll laugh, or I'll cry, or maybe some of both.

And, I'll think of what has or hasn't happened to change my life.

Whoever you are, who is reading this now, the me-but-not-me, I hope that you are, and will forever feel all the passions, and that you are and will be happy. I hope that you have friends, and love, and that you know who you are, and are happy with what you've become.

Please--I am a part of you. Never forget me.

Find happiness. Love.

And, most important of all:

Be yourself.

I hope that life is better where you are...

"In the arms of the Angel
Fly away from here
From this dark, cold hotel room
And the endlessness that you feel
You are pulled from the wreckage
Of your silent reverie
You're in the arms of the Angel
May you find some comfort here.
You're in the arms of the Angel
May you find some comfort here."

Good luck.

I love you.

Thank you, Nikki-chan, for carrying this message. You are my portal to the future.

"To infinity, and beyond..."

Jya-ne.

- Vale

Notes from 2010: November 22, 1998.

The first lyrics I quote are from the song "Nothing Beautiful" by The Odds. The second are from "Angel" by Sarah McLachlan.

As I recall, it did break my heart a little every time I went to Izzy's house alone to feed his pets. There were so many memories there, of a friendship and a closeness that I'd lost without quite understanding how or why.

The message to my future self at the end of the entry is a little strange to read--kind of sad, and kind of sweet. Some of my wishes for myself have come true. Others haven't. Some of these entries do make me feel sad for the girl I used to be, and some make me laugh with or at myself, depending. The quote from Toy Story at the end makes me smile.

All I can say to my past self is... I'm still working on it. I'm still unfinished. But things are a hell of a lot better now than they used to be. And I have hope that they'll only continue to get better. For now, it's a good place to be. It's a good place to start.

Nov. 19, 1998.

Why?

She's constantly ranting to me. All the time, about a million times a week. She rants to me about the same things, over, and over, and over, and over, and over. Stupid bitch won't listen, however, when I need to rant to someone. She talks at me, interrupts me, rants at me, yells at me, takes things out on me when she's in a bad mood. I sit and listen, and not to often do I brush her off. But she will not let me rant to her. She refuses to listen to what I have to say. I can't convey my pain to anyone by you, you know, Nikki-chan. You're the only one who ever, ever cares. The only one who ever listens to me.

Why can't she shut her damned mouth for once; just shut the fuck up and listen for a single time in her life?! She's such a selfish, stupid bitch. Doesn't she see that I'm dying in this Hell?! I am so lonely. I'm getting to the point where death is becoming almost preferable to life like I'm forced to live it now, and no one fucking cares! If I was suicidal, no one would fucking talk me out of it. Because no one would give a flying fuck that I was that unhappy, just like no one gives a flying fuck right now.

I hate this life. I hate lonliness. I hate being so unhappy. And I practically hate them. All of them. Izzy, Hannah, Mom, Dad, Colin... all of them.

At least I have you, though, ne? I don't know what I'd do without you, Nikki-chan. I really don't.

I'll tell you what I was trying to tell Mom. In fact, I'll tell you more. I trust you, so I feel comfortable telling you things. Not like with them, you know?

Well that improv class was a flop. I'm no good at it, for once thing, and, once again, I feel alienated as hell. No one notices that I exist. *bitter laughter* If I want to be ignored, I'll just hang around Dad more often. I get enough of that from him.

So, anyway, everyone knows everyone else by now. Everyone's outgoing, and friendly to everyone. Except for me. I'm ignored, I'm lonely, and I'm shy. I don't know how to start talking to them, and no one cares to try to make an effort to get to know me, at all.

I bet that, like most people, they think I'm stuck-up, or rude, or just plain stupid, or something equally horrible, when I'm not. Not at all. I'm just shy. I can't help it that I'm so shy.

Even that girl Izzy's friends with just ignores me and/or gives me these looks of distaste now, and I told her on the first day how I'm so awfully shy...

Maybe I'm just not a likeable person? Maybe that's why I have almost no friends. Why Alyssa and Izzy have essentially ditched me. Why the person who says I'm her God damned best friend treats me like less than shit.

Why I couldn't... no, why I can't make a friend to save my life. Maybe I'll always be alone. Right now, it seems impossible that it could be any other way.

I don't think that I'm an unlikeable person... I wish I had someone I could ask just that: am I likeable? But, I don't have anyone I could ever ask something like that.

I'm not joining drama again. I'm sure that Kate and all the others will be glad to see me gone. Who needs a person like me holding them back all the time, right? I'm sure that's all I ever do. I'm equally sure that, even if that isn't true, it is to them. That they all see me (at the rare times when they do see me) as an anchor of sorts, holding myself and everyone of them all down.

They're all going out after the last class, or the next week, to go bowling, or something like that. All I know is that I'm not going. I have no place with them. I doubt that they would notice or care if I disappeared before they all went off together, or if I didn't sign my name to the phone list. Or, if I told them that, no, I couldn't make it, I have too much homework.

No, I'm wrong. They'd care. I'm sure they'll be glad I didn't come along. A few of them would, at least, the others wouldn't even notice.

Even if I do sign the phone list, I bet that they don't ever call me. I'm, as I have stated before, a social leper. I have no place in this world. If I didn't like to be around people sometimes, I'd become a hermit. Then, no one would ever be bothered by me again. I'd be in my rightful place. Alone. Out of society.

I don't know how to put my feelings into words. I want someone who I can tell all this to who would listen, and would care, but, as I have said in the past, there is no one. I sincerely wonder if ever I will find someone?

How can anyone deal with lonliness like this? Well, that's one question I can begin to answer: some people, to get temporary fixes, drink, do drugs, and other such stupid things. Myself, I have my own methods. My "acting", and all. I know what I mean, so I needn't, I think, be more specific than that.

Know who the only person I've confided in who hasn't hurt me is? Dani. Isn't that interesting? Ah, well. Give her time.

I should really be working on that story for English, but I still have time to do that later, so I'm going to keep writing in you, for now.

I don't really think that I'm a bad, nor an unlikeable person. I hate this life, and I hate the way in which I'm forced to live it, but I don't hate me. What reason have I to? There's nothing wrong with me that others should treat me the way they do.

I will, I believe, deep down inside, when you get past the desolation, that I will eventually find people who will truly and unconditionally care about and love me for me, about whom I will also care, and equally.

I just have to keep looking, and keep hoping. They're out there somewhere. Someday, I'll find them.

All my love, Nikki-chan.

With all my Heart.

With all my Soul.

- Vale

Notes from 2010: November 19, 1998.

Minor Trigger Alert: The "acting" I refer to is, I'm pretty sure, cutting. I don't know why I still got skittish about saying it outright, after I'd mentioned it in at least one other entry. Notice how I separate it as somehow less fucked up than chemical addictions. I was still in the "I can stop when I choose to" mindset at this point. If only.

From the context, this entry is talking about my mother, and how I felt like she shut me down whenever I would try to tell her how bad I was feeling. From present tense, I can't say how much those feelings were legitimate, and how much I was overreacting. I do think it was a mix of the two. My mother does tend to shy away from conflict. And while I probably took her unwillingness to discuss how depressed I was feeling a bit too much to heart, to this day she does tend to forget that I was once suicidal--in part because I never told her much about it until after the feelings had passed, and in part because she simply can't stand to know that I considered killing myself. And I think that her need to not know, understandable as it is, played into her reaction at the time, when I would try to tell her how shitty I was feeling.

This is the first post where I say outright that I'm starting to feel like I'd rather not be alive, though I don't totally go there yet. But by this point it's on my mind, despite the fact that I claim later on that I don't hate myself. I was already more than halfway to full-blown self-loathing, if I wasn't already there.

"Ne" means "right" in Japanese. I use that in multiple entries.

The improv class I reference was an after-school thing I was trying at the time, run by a local theatre group, and I was feeling like epic fail. Instead of managing to be a whole different (read: super-outgoing) person and make friends in a group where I didn't know anyone--as I always hoped would happen--I was, as always, left feeling like the weird, shy, excessively quiet one who no one liked, and who everyone wished would just go away. I still suck ass at improv--not the most fun for someone who naturally needs time to think before they speak--so it probably wasn't the best choice of extracurricular, especially since I felt acutely uncomfortable and like an outcast in my day-to-day life. Sad to say, the improv class only exacerbated those feelings, and I didn't manage to make a real connection with anyone there, which made me feel all the more like a loser who would never "make a friend to save my life."

For the record, I have actually had people (to my face) interpret my shyness as me being stuck up, stupid, rude or aloof, all of which killed me when I was trying so, so hard to please and to be what I thought other people wanted me to be. I've also been called laid back, which never fails to amaze me, since it's the polar opposite of how I feel inside. I'm pretty much cool with the misinterpretations these days. It can still be irritating sometimes, in an eye-roll kind of way, but it doesn't fuck with my sense of self anymore. I'm mostly comfortable with being a shy person, and it's interesting how different people read that trait. Sometimes people even get it right.

One trait that has stuck with me is the tendency to read others' interpretations of me more negatively than they actually are. This isn't unusual for very shy people. Even today, I assume too easily that someone's had a negative reaction to me when they haven't, or a stronger negative reaction than they realistically have. Knowing that I tend to think that way helps me mitigate my negative mind-reading. But since I can't exactly ask most people "so, how much of a loser do you really think I am?" it can still sometimes be hard to gauge how much is misinterpretation on my part, and how much is real negative reaction on theirs. But at least I don't assume most people can't stand me anymore. That makes it a lot easier not to hate myself.

Near the end of the entry, I talk about finding a group of friends I fit in with, who care deeply about me. I was a big fan of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and there was nothing I wanted more than a family of friends like the Buffy/Xander/Willow/Giles quartet on the show. And if I'm completely honest, that's still something I want more than almost anything else--and have yet to find. I'd love to think it's still possible, but part of me thinks it's my version of the "one true love" myth: something that pop culture assures me can exist, is attainable, but that almost never happens in the real world.

Oct. 28, 1998. TRIGGER WARNING

TRIGGER WARNING

Sometimes I feel like I'm the most stupid, lazy person in the world. I'm not a good student, anymore. I wonder how many courses I'm failing, so far? Physics, I'm sure. Probably math. Maybe chem. Doing bad in German. Probably in English, history, and Life Skills, too. I feel like such a stupid, lazy little bitch, right now. I tried to cry, but I couldn't, really. I'm totally freaking out.

Yes, in my writing and façade, it seems like I'm almost fine, calm as a lake on a windless day, but I have yet to clean the tears off my face, I'm ready to break the window so it'll stop moving in the wind, I really need to scream and sob, and I'd be cutting myself up, if it weren't for my not wanting to have sliced-up arms and hands in my Hallowe'en costume on Saturday.

Also, a short time ago, I threw you across the room, which, unfortunately, knocked your cover right off, poor thing. I'm very sorry, Nikki-chan. That's my new name for you, BTW. It means diary, in Japanese. In Nihongo. I like it, I think it's cute. Kawaii!!! ^_^ *LOL* Well, I have to go translate old English for homework now, because my English sub's a bastard.

Jya-ne, Nikki-chan. *hugz*

- Vale

Notes from 2010: October 28, 1998. TRIGGER WARNING

TRIGGER WARNING:

So this is the first entry where I talk blatantly, if briefly, about cutting myself. I'm fairly certain I started self-injuring as a coping method near the beginning of eleventh grade, so it would still have been a pretty new thing for me when I wrote this entry.

Full disclosure: I got the idea to start cutting from a magazine article I read about people who did cut and why it was a bad thing. So even stories intended to deter people from engaging in unhealthy behaviours--which is part of what I'm trying to do here--don't necessarily have the effect the writer hopes they will. Nonetheless, I think it's important to admit that, while I recognize that cutting was (and, in the moments when I give in, still is) an addictive behaviour and a terrible, self-defeating coping mechanism, I also have to admit that in the worst moments of my pain--it did sometimes help. Not always. And it did nothing to deal with the underlying issues. It was a prime example of treating the symptom--the pain in that moment--but not the disease--the underlying depression that cutting couldn't take away.

I would never, never recommend self-injury of any kind as a way of trying to handle pain, for many reasons: Any relief is very temporary, and, if you draw blood, not worth the messy clean up. I was always afraid of the consequences (being forced into therapy? institutionalization? being forced to take medication? my family and few friends being horrified by me?) if someone caught me in the act or saw fresh cuts on my body. The scars--believe me--never go away. It is not bullshit to call SI addictive, and once you start it is very, very difficult to stop: it took me more than a decade to almost never cut anymore, and in bad moments the temptation is always there. The act of cutting can trigger suicidal thoughts at moments when you weren't actually thinking them yet. And, as I said, it does absolutely nothing to help you work through and move past the pain that makes you feel like hurting yourself in the first place.

But at the time... it was the only way I knew to help myself, as sad and awful and pathetic as that is. So I did it. I don't advocate it, and if you can convince yourself to never start at all, you'll save yourself the never-ending battle to stop for good. But SI was and is a part of me, for good or for ill. And I'm not going to hedge about that in this blog.

This is also the first entry where I mention finding it difficult to cry, even when I feel like I need to. I've read since then that that's not so unusual for a person who is severely depressed. I've never gotten back to that point again, and I'm thankful for that, because it would scare the hell out of me if I did. For me, it was a sign of how bad things were getting inside my head.

On a slightly lighter note, naming my diary and referring to it as "you" is something I picked up from the book Go Ask Alice. I read that for the first time when I was 12, and re-read it any number of times as a teenager. It broke my heart and left a huge impression on me, and even though drugs have never been my issue, I felt a huge affinity for Alice and the shit she was going through. Hell, maybe that's part of why I'm blogging my diaries today, since reading her journals meant so much to me at the time.

Finally: Yes, I did actually write out anime-style happy faces by hand in my diary. Yes, I do have to snicker at just how frigging nerdy that is.

Sept. 30, 1998.

Now it has been an eternity. Will the pain ever stop? I wish, sometimes, that everyone would just leave me alone, forget about me. I wish that no one knew I existed. I think that would actually make everything less lonely than it is, right now. If everyone would just stop bullshitting me, stop pretending to care. It'd be nice.

I'm still lonely.

Will I ever feel loved?

Sometimes, I wish I could just disappear. I... well, part of me is serious when it thinks about running away. When it thinks about going with Izzy and his friend to her mansion, with her millions, and hiding out there. Most of me know that would just cause problems, but part of me... part of me wishes I could. Really, really does.

Even if only for the ability to totally start over. Completely. Then, though, I'd have to be utterly alone. To start totally new. But, for now, it'd be close enough.

I hate my life (not living, just being so alone), school, lonliness, and having no one to truely open up to, who would listen to me, then open up right back.

Oh well. I have homework, now. I hate school so much... it's Hell on Earth. Fuck it all. I hate it, hate it, hate it.

Jya-ne.

- Vale

Aug. 30, 1998.

Hard to believe that it's only been five days since my last entry. It feels like an eternity.

Notes from 2010: September 30, 1998.

The September 30 entry is prefaced by a two-line entry from August 30, which for some reason I never had a chance to write more of.

I have no idea now who this millionaire friend of Izzy's was supposed to be. For the record, he never ran away with her either, since from the sound of my entry he'd apparently been considering it.

The parenthesis where I clarify that I don't hate living, just how my life is, are my words at that time. I was trying to keep those things separate in my mind because I hadn't yet given in quite enough to self-loathing to actively consider suicide, and I was afraid of getting to that point if I started thinking that it was, in fact, myself I hated.

I talk in this entry about wanting to go somewhere else and start over completely new, by which I meant, be someone completely other than who I was. I hadn't yet learned that it doesn't necessarily work out that way--at least, not if what you're running away from is, like my shyness, and intrinsic part of yourself. A few years down the road, I did have an opportunity to start over fresh as a university student, in a city where I barely knew anyone, and it didn't exactly go as I'd hoped. I did manage to work through a lot of my issues around being shy eventually--seeing a psychologist worked very well for me, with that--but it wasn't until I started therapy that I started making the changes I wanted so badly. Before that, it was like Social Distortion says in "Ball and Chain": "But wherever I have gone/I was sure to find myself there/You can run all your life/But not go anywhere". Sometimes it still feels that way. But I do like myself a lot more than I used to these days, and I have a lot more confidence that I am able to change the parts I don't like, if I put my mind to it.

The sign-off I use, "jya-ne", means "bye" or "see you later" in Japanese. I was all about boosting my otaku cred. At least in my own mind, since by this point no one else much gave a crap. *L*

Away for a week

I'll be out of town next week, so my next post won't be until March 11 or 12.

I realize there isn't actually anyone reading this blog yet, so it's a little silly to bother posting an away message. But since I said I would, if I knew I had to miss a week, I'm going to follow through on that. I like to think I'll eventually have a few readers who might notice and care, so why not start getting in the habit now?

Aug. 25, 1998.

I drink too much pop.

I don't know, it just seemed like a good way to start off an entry. I do, anyway. I drink at least two, often three cans a day.

You know, I'm thinking of getting another diary. I don't know why too well... I just... A lot of things have been recorded in here, which some would call bizarre; things which would have people deem me insane. I'm not.

I still believe in the things I wrote about in here, still believe in Magick. I guess I always have.

I'm naïve. I trust and believe in what people say too easily. In some cases, at any rate.

I don't trust and believe in people easily, though. Every person I've ever really, truely believed in (and, there have been precious few) has hurt me. Mom, Dad, Izzy, Hannah... all of them. It's still a struggle, at times, not to believe... in both them and others.

Why do they always hurt me? Why can't I trust, love, believe in those I ought to be able to believe in without the constant, overlying fear that they will suddenly change?

My parents shouldn't hurt me, should they?

Not physically, of course, but the wounds are still there. Some are slowly healing, most are raw and open.

It hurts so bad.

Pain.

Pain.

I know it so well.

Apparently, I "owe" Mom two hours' worth of work on my room. I always have a drawing to finish.

I feel like I have to scream and cry, but even if I do, no one will ever listen. Even when they do, they never, ever, ever hear.

"Please let me start screaming.
Please let me start screaming.
Please let me start screaming.
Please let me start screaming."

Those lines from Invisible Man by Lush, I believe?

Dad was in another of his moods today. I can't believe I got my hopes up when he joked with me like he used to, when he came to pick me up.

Is it normal to feel like crying every time you spend time with your father? Is it okay if he acts as though he doesn't like you, and ignores you when you try to start a conversation?

No. No, I really don't think it is.

It's good that he talks to Colin, at least, like he used to talk to me. Colin, I think, needs love and compassion more than I do, right now.

I guess that it was a choice of one of us or the other, huh?

Dad does what Mom does, now. Only, in some ways, he's worse. He makes me feel guilty, like I should apologize, then he gets upset with me when I do.

What the hell does he want of me? What does he expect?!

Bitter irony. He's quite a hypocrite. He condemns Mom for doing things he now does himself.

If all his talks about looking out for you and never helping others out of pure kindness lead to such emotionlessness, heartlessness, well, then, so be it. Let me be screwed, over and over, by those whom I help out of love and kindness. I will never be so cold. Never.

I will be me, not whomever he expects me to be, expects me to become.

I am me. If you don't love me for who I am--and this goes for all of you, present and future--stay the hell out of my life.

These pages are so small, it's hard to write. But bigger books don't come with locks. As flimsy as the locks on diaries are, I will not use one which is without.

As little protection as they may provide, it's better than nothing.

I haven't felt so bleak, so desolate, in a long, long time. I don't even have anyone to confide in, to whom I could speak freely of my pain. I hate my life.

I don't hate me, but I hate my life.

I need to get out of here, to start over somewhere new. Unfortunately, it'll be three or so more years until I can. Doesn't that suck?

This is one of those rare, lowest of low moments when even death seems preferable than this continued existence.

But I don't truely want to die. I want to escape. And I want people to be friends with, and people to love.

How many, I wonder, people will I be able to find who are not scared of my being Wiccan, and who like anime?

Few, I'm sure.

When I got home, I hoped to find solace from pain. But Mom was tired, and so I went to hide in her room and watch T.V. I sat there and cried almost silently, for a few minutes. Living like this is more than I can bear.

When she took me to get my supper, later, I was so tense. I didn't know if I would say the wrong thing, or too little, or too much, or what I would do to set her off at me.

Thank the God and Goddess, I managed not to set her off. She asked me if I was alright, and I said yes. She believed me. Good. I don't want to have to explain. Not now, maybe not ever.

She didn't listen. The one time I tried to, she refused to listen, and she yelled at me. She won't even try to stop hurting me.

Won't hardly even consider it.

I wish I had someone to look out for me.

I mean, and older brother or sister, or one of my parents, or a grandparent, or someone. Anyone.

But, I don't have anyone.

I have no one. I have no friends, and I have no family I can trust in.

I'm all alone.

And I'm so, so lonely...

- Vale

Notes from 2010: August 25, 1998.

I mention Wicca, magick and praying to a God and Goddess for the first time in this post. Izzy, Alyssa, me, and a couple other friends from school got interested in Wicca in eighth grade. As I recall it we were primarily inspired by The Craft, though we had heard about Wicca before that. But after we saw the movie, we read more about the religious and magickal aspects, started identifying as Wiccan, decided that four or five of us were a coven, and tried to perform some spells. I recorded a lot of that in my diary at that time, which is what I'm referring to when I talk about how people would think I was crazy if they read old entries. (For the record, I no longer identify as specifically Wiccan, though I do still like a lot of the beliefs. I also don't worry about people thinking I was crazy for believing what I did anymore, since in retrospect being severely depressed and suicidal was a lot closer to crazy than a belief in magick.)

I mention my brother Colin for the first time in this entry. I have another brother, Brock, who I'll likely mention at some point as well. I think Colin had broken up with a girlfriend recently, hence needing extra love and support.

I also reference an old fight with my mother that was still bothering me. I can't remember what that was about anymore, but it sounds like I tried to open up to her about something and wasn't thrilled with her reaction.

My issues with my father are expanded on somewhat here. A little extra background: My parents got divorced when I was in late elementary school. By the middle of junior high, my father had started a relationship with a divorced woman who had a family of her own. He got very involved with them, and his relationship with his own kids suffered as a result. I had set days of the week when I saw him, and since Brock and Colin were both too old for that, realistically I think they saw him much less often than I did. Unfortunately, by the time I was 14 or so, our visits weren't very enjoyable anymore.

Dad spent most of our time together with his girlfriends' kids, and I was just expected to tag along, hoping he'd notice me now and then. I still don't think it's exaggerating to say that he acted very uninterested in my life, and my brothers' lives, and didn't bother to get to know the people we were growing up to be. I'm sorry to say he still doesn't make much effort, but I'm more or less reconciled to that now. Sometimes it still hurts my feelings, but... he's an imperfect man. He did the best he could.

He's often gone off on ideological kicks, incorporating ideas and beliefs into his worldview that may or may not be a part of it six months or a year later. At the time of this entry, he was on a "never apologize, and never do anything for someone without expecting something in return" kick. I can't remember how long it lasted, but it was a bit disturbing to witness. I'm glad I was skeptical enough not to buy into it. It never seemed to make him particularly happy.

This is also the first entry where I talk about feeling like I might rather die than live. I backtrack immediately-but the thoughts were already building.

Aug. 3, 1998.

I really need to take one of those long, long walks of mine again.

I haven't seen Skylark since, apparently, June. That's okay, I've given up on her. I'm never on-line anymore, anyway. I don't chat, and I haven't answered my e-mail in pretty much forever. I just can't bring myself to answer my mail. As for chatting, why bother? What reason have I to go on those? None. Easy answer. I have no more friends there than I do IRL. In other words, none. I was right when I said that this was not a mere passing lonliness.

I cannot wait to finally escape out of this city. I don't care anymore if I have to work in a McDonald's sort of job until I'm 40 to save up enough money to go to university, if Dad's parents won't pay, unless I go to the one here. If I'm forced to stay here for that long, I'll probably kill myself.

I'm so lonely... I have no one who loves me, here. No one who loves me enough not to constantly hurt or ignore me. I need to get away, and, at the very least, be an outsider in another place. Maybe I'll get involved in some sort of exchange program in grade 12... or, if possible, next year. Get away, on my own, and either make friends elsewhere or be a loner, an outsider, in a different setting, as I said.

Hannah only wants to do things with Stacie. Stacie doesn't seem to like me. Or, perhaps, she's just shy. I don't know. Either way, when I'm with them, they ignore me, when I'm not, they want to keep it that way.

Izzy never calls me, although he always says he will. Next time he tells me that I'm just going to tell him not to bullshit me, and leave. He has other friends, and for all his pretty words about us being his "real" friends, he ignores us. I'm obviously no longer one of his best friends. And, that "real" friends stuff is just more bullshit from someone who's turned out to be one of the biggest lying bullshitters I know.

I think I'll go on one of the chats, talk about how I'm depressed and no one gives a shit about me, and actually try to alienate myself further than I've already been alienated. I don't need them. None of them.

I only need me. I'm fine entirely on my own.

Jya-ne.

- Vale

Notes from 2010: August 3, 1998.

There's a pretty big break between the last entry and this one. That will begin change in the fall, once I start back at school. I always wrote more during the school year because I felt that much more alone when I was in a big crowd of people all day, and convinced none of them knew I existed.

I mention Stacie for the first time in this entry. She's an old friend of Hannah's who Hannah knew when she was really little, and who'd moved back to town after living away for most of elementary school and junior high. Her whole family was friends with Hannah's, and they'd visited each other over the years, so they clicked as friends again immediately. Stacie went to a different school than Hannah and I, so I saw her more during the summer than when we were in school. I have no idea what she's up to these days, though as far as I know she and Hannah still keep in touch.

I'd also like to note that these days I'm more much aware of how lucky I was to have extended family who could pay for my university. I feel extremely blessed not to have student loan payments, like too many people I know. And in case I don't continue this blog into my university years: yes, I did stay in my hometown for university. No, I don't regret that. I blustered in my diaries, but in the end, a free ride was too great a gift to pass up, even if I meant I couldn't go where I really wanted to. For me, it was worth it to stay.

Near the end of this entry, you'll see some of my early assertions that I don't need friends, or anyone except myself. That's something I still try to convince myself of in lonely moments, even though I've never yet managed to make it a reality. I've always wanted to be as independent as possible. But while in many ways I am (not surprisingly) more independent now than I was when I was 16, I've never gotten past the desire to have friends. I may be shy, but I do have a social side, and I doubt I'll ever be able to excise that from personality. No matter how much I sometimes wish I could. Maybe that's for the best, but I have to admit, it does still piss me sometimes off that I can't control that side of myself. Ah well.

July 8, 1998.

You know what? I wish that everyone would just stop lying to me. Everyone seems to be a hypocrite, and a liar. Of course, I lie, too, but I lie about my feelings and such, and rarely about what I think of another person, unless out of curtosy or not wanting to hurt them. People lie about how they feel about me all the time. I'm sick of it.

Know what else? I'm utterly alone. I've felt like this for a week or two, now. Normally, when I've felt like this in the past, something happens within a few days of my belief taking full force to change my mind. Not this time. Even if people knew I hurt, they wouldn't care.

Mom thinks that perhaps I don't let myself feel pain. She's a fool. Of course I do, how could I not? I believe I am very empathic, so how could I possibly not feel my own pain? In any case, yes, I feel pain. I feel it strongly. I don't want to be alone. Perhaps there are people out there, somewhere, who I can believe in. I'll find out, one day. When I finally escape my living Hell.

Now, let's see, how about those liars and hypocrites? First of all, the majority just don't really care very much, such as Brodie, Dani, Teddy, Izumi-chan, Kerry, Alex, and even Izzy, though he still gets a special place in here. They just don't give a shit. Well, hey, that's fine, whatever. I don't need them, anyway. I don't need anyone but myself.

As for the others, they are the ones who have hurt me. I'll talk about each of them, now.

Mom--obvious. She made me feel guilty all the time, when I was younger. It doesn't work, anymore, now it makes me angry. But, she was the main cause of my lack of self-esteem, and why I blamed myself for many things which were not my fault. When she's in a mean mood, which is not infrequent, she still tries to hurt me. For example, the other day, Hannah and I made some cakes. One was left at Hannah's. The other I got to bring home. Izzy and I "iced" it with whipped cream and strawberries, and I was rather proud that it had turned out.

I could tell, when I came through the door, that she was overtired. Now, earlier in the day, she'd asked me if I would like her to make a pound cake or a cheese cake. I said pound cake, and that's what she made. When she came into the kitchen, when we were "icing", the first thing she did was complain that we were "icing" it like that at all. She went on to say that if she had known that I was going to bring it home, she wouldn't have made pound cake, and complain that she'd wanted cheese cake. When I said she ought to have just made cheese cake, then, she said she didn't know I was bringing mine home. For Lady's sake, neither did I!!!

She also went on about how I'd said that it tasted bad, before, so why did I bring it home? I told her that it tasted good now, but this was apparently unacceptable, because she continued to point out how awful it was supposed to taste. The hypocrite herself had told me that it was supposed to set for a while before it tasted good!! She sulkily said that she would freeze the pound cake. With a little bit of bitter, angry laugher, I said that from now on I wouldn't bring home anything I baked, and asked "will that make you happy?" She said "yes" in this oh-so-hurt voice, and went to freeze the pound cake. Trying to make me feel like I had mortally wounded her, the selfish, closed-minded, short-sighted, hypocritical, heartless BITCH!!!!

And she wonders why I get upset when she mentions the cake today? Saying how it's good, that's supposed to magically make the hurt that I felt that my own mother didn't give a shit about something I was proud of, nor anything other than her own fucking self?! It can't and doesn't. I could go on, but I'll save it. There's too much to say it all right now.

Dad--He used to be so kind to me... he used to care. Not anymore. His total and utter nonchalance strikes me like daggers. He used to care if I hurt. Now he lays guilt trips, like Mom, and doesn't give a damn about anything I'd like to say, nor what I feel. I've essentially lost my father.

Izzy--I've also lost my best friend. This is no one's fault, I'm just unimportant to him. He has tons of other friends, so he rarely sees, calls, talks to, etc., me. He doesn't need me.

Hannah--much like mom. Lashes out at me for no reason, when she's unhappy. Patronizes me, treats me like an idiot. If I ask her a question, I never know when she's going to use her "you're an idiot if you don't know that" voice and talk to me as though I were a small child who needs each specific detail simplified and explained.

I guess that's all of them. God and Goddess, I feel like I'm going to scream; like something inside is pulled taught and ready to snap.

Believe me, I do feel pain. I feel little else.

When I finally escape, I will run, run, run, and never look back. I've nothing by pain, anger, hurt to look back to.

"The life that I've left behind me/is a cold room"

Jya-ne.

- Vale

Notes from 2010: July 8, 1998.

If possible (and it may not be), please try to see past the weird, bombastic language I liked to used in my journals at this stage in my life. I like to think that, twelve years down the road, I've mostly managed to curb that impulse. (Though, as you'll probably notice, I haven't done so well with my impulse to write huge, run-on sentences. Or have too many parenthetical statements.) But as I say in my intro post, I'm trying to keep these entries pretty unedited, and as head-shaking as this kind of writing is to me now, it's who I was then. It does make me wonder how I ever deluded myself into believing I wasn't really a nerd...

This entry is from the summer between tenth and eleventh grades, about the time when my problems really started. My group of junior high friends was pretty fractured by now, and it was starting to sink in that things were never going to go back the way they used to be. And, being extremely shy, I had no idea how to go about meeting new friends, in school or elsewhere. I had also started cutting in the latter half of tenth grade, as a fucked-up way to help myself deal with the hurt, which speaks to where my head was at that time. These are the seeds that the next two years grew from. "I'm utterly alone": those words, written for the first time here, became my mantra.

(...and for all that I meant that when I wrote it, in retrospect, I do have to own to echoes of Olivia from Beetle Juice. I always did love that movie...)

Some Basics

Before I jump into the first Notes from 2010/high school entry posts, I think I should give a basic overview of where I was coming from just before I got depressed.

In junior high, I had a small but tight group of friends. We were nerds, and we got teased like hell, but we had each other and that made it all kind of okay. The thing that initially brought us together was that we were all anime-obsessed in an era when anime wasn't remotely cool, and generally assumed to be kids' stuff or porn, depending who you asked. We loved Sailor Moon (naturally), Ranma 1/2, Project A-Ko, Rurouni Kenshin, and so on, and we watched whatever we could buy or rent. Anime was a lot scarcer back in the VHS days, at least where we lived.

This is the group I mentioned in my intro post: the one that had broken up almost completely by the summer between tenth and eleventh grades, and that I clung to desperately way longer than I should have, because I didn't know what to do without them. There were a few other people we hung out with a fair bit, but these are the ones I was close with, and who I feel like I need to explain ahead of time. There are other people you'll see me meet along the way, but I'd known my junior high friends for years, so without context, the journal entries about them could be hard to follow.


Junior high friends:

Hannah: One of my oldest friends in junior high (and, for the record, still one of my oldest and closest friends today). We'd known each other since elementary school, and stayed friends through high school. We had some issues at the time, and I'm sorry to say I often absolved myself of a lot of bitchiness towards her because I always cast her in the bitch-queen role. You'll often see me call her patronizing, say that she talks down to me, claim that she's a lot less mature than I am. And maybe not all of that was off base--maybe she did patronize me sometimes; and yes, it pisses me off to this day when someone is clearly treating me like that. But I was just as flawed as she was, and I had no right to be so fucking judgmental. I think a big part of it was that I was jealous of how much more easily she made friends than I did, since I had myself so convinced I was a nicer, better, more interesting person. Which I can say now is absolute bullshit.

Looking back, I know I didn't appreciate her friendship and loyalty half as much as I should have, and as I hope I do now. It's hard to read some of the things I wrote about her back then, and honestly, they're a big part of why this blog is, and will remain, anonymous: I do not remotely feel that way anymore, and I never, never want her to know that I did. Hannah, I hope to God you never read this, but I still want to say it here: I'm sorry. You are a great friend, and I am an unforgivable moron for not realizing that back that.


Isaac, aka Izzy: Izzy was my best friend, and my polar opposite. He was outgoing, artistic, loved the spotlight, never had trouble speaking his mind, and was himself whether people liked it or not. I was shy, quiet, and as much as I wanted to stand out, I was way more scared of making a fool of myself. I wanted to be liked and admired, but I was too afraid to risk being laughed at to even try.

Maybe it was a complementary personality thing, but somehow we clicked despite our differences. Izzy was my closest friend and confidante for a good two years, and I'll always look back on that with a lot of love for him. (Totally platonic love, that is--there was never any attraction between us, from either side.) But from the beginning, Izzy was a lot cooler than I ever had a hope of being. He was also more curious about sex and drugs (not my thing to this day, for a variety of personal reasons I may eventually touch on), and had higher aspirations of being seen as cool, if not necessarily popular. By tenth grade, he'd pretty well ditched me for a new group of friends who were more into that too. At the time it hurt like a motherfucker, though I get now how it was only natural for him to do pull away from me. We still keep in touch, though we sometimes go years without seeing each other.


Dani: One of Hannah's oldest friends. She went to a different junior high school than the rest of us, but we spent tons of time talking on the phone and online, and hanging out after school and on weekends. She was a ton of fun, a nice combination of reserved and outgoing, and could make us laugh at just about anything. She moved to a different city before high school started, but we emailed a lot and visited when we could, and we're still friends today. She and Hannah are still close too.


Alyssa: Hannah and I met her in seventh grade, and she integrated into the (slightly different) group of friends we had at the time easily. Our friendship with her was the opposite of our friendship with Dani, in that we almost never saw Alyssa outside of school, but spent almost all our time together during the school week. She was never as big on anime as the rest of us, but got kind of into it by proxy. Alyssa and I weren't especially close, but it was still confusing for me when she found a new group of friends in high school and stopped hanging out with me and Hannah. She was always nice to me, though, and reached out to me now and then over the years, long after I'd stopped expecting it. We've fallen out of touch these days, but I hope she's living a good life, wherever she is.


Iris: Hannah, Alyssa and I also became friends with her in seventh grade. Iris was from a certain background, and had two groups she hung out with: me and my friends, and another group of kids who were from the same background as her. Her closest friends from each group would all hang out together once in a while, but for the most part my friends only knew Iris's other friends to say hi to. Iris was one of the friends who stuck by me all through high school, and I owe her a deep debt of gratitude for that. We had one or two classes together each year, and, honest to God, hanging out with her for an hour or two every week helped keep me sane. She was an incredibly sweet, caring person, and while I was never brave enough to confide my deepest problems to her, the fact that she liked and accepted me helped me feel like maybe I was worth something after all. If someone like Iris felt I was good enough to be her friend, there must be at least a tiny spark of something good in me. Unfortunately, Iris and I grew apart when we went to different universities. But we're Facebook friends these days, and she seems very happy, which I'm very glad to know.


Hannah, Dani, Izzy and I were regulars at couple anime-based chat rooms. We'd stay up for hours talking to each other and our "c-friends" there. This was pre-cell phones and IMing was just starting to come into style when we were in grade 9 or 10 (and God do I feel old right now), so chatting was our answer to texting. It gave us some much-appreciated autonomy and privacy, since our parents couldn't hear what we were typing, and didn't spend that much time looking over our shoulders.

We all had online friends we considered as real as each other, and some of them will also come up in my entries. It's usually obvious when I'm talking about people I only knew online versus people I knew in real life, but there are a couple people who need an explanation up front, so it's clear who they are.


Online friends:

Izumi-chan/Camille: The closest online friend I have ever had. We emailed back and forth a ton when I was in grades 10 through 12, and told each other just about everything. I was as close to her as I ever was to Izzy. Izumi-chan was her chat name, and Camille was her real name, and I use them interchangeably in my diary entries. Camille had a lot more life experience than I did, but she was loving and patient with me, listened to everything I had to say, and gave me a long-distance shoulder to cry on, plus real advice and support. I honestly don't know if I would still be here if I hadn't had her.

She was going through some pretty bad shit herself at the same time I was dealing with my depression, and I can only hope I helped her as much as she helped me. We've lost touch over the years, but I hold out hope that I'll someday track her down on Facebook, or MySpace, or somewhere like that. I would love to get to know her again.


Skylark: My first big online crush, and my first big crush on a girl. I think I talked to her three whole times in the entire time I knew her--possibly for a total of an hour, possibly less. *L* I started getting minor crushes on girls online when I was 13 or 14, and calling myself "open." When I was 15, I came out to myself (and later, others) as bisexual, and I've identified as bi (and more recently, pansexual) ever since. In retrospect, I think the barely-warranted online crushes were a safe way to start exploring that side of myself without any risk of serious consequences. Wherever my (entirely unrequited) feelings sprang from, Skylark will come up quite a bit in my earliest entries.



I think that covers the essentials of who and what my earliest journal entries are going on about. In the next couple posts, I'll move on to real thing.