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?

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.

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.

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.

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

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

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.

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. 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

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

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