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. 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.

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.

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

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.