Journal 2
April 1997 - June 1997
April 6, 1997
I wait for some form of release or comfort. Every day I wait in hopes that some relief will come. I yearn for a reason to go on. My only escape is through God in church but I can’t hide behind those doors forever, for even there I am shunned. I beg for someone or something to help me live like I see everyone else living. I would rather be on the same level, experiencing the same things as those morons than ascribe my misery to being on a ‘higher plane.’
Even at church, people shy away from me leaving me feeling even more intimidated. Not only can I not show my true self to anyone but I am constantly too caught up in my own insanity to do so. I cannot sort out for myself what is permanent and stable in me, and what is merely a peculiar craving for death. That which controls me. I’m just fooling myself. They’ll never see me as anything but a psycho. It’s hopeless. I’m a prisoner of my own mind. I’m hopeless.
April 9, 1997
My mind has suffered from not having a journal for so long. I am depressed and have spent three sleepless nights with wild thoughts storming my tired mind. I get my wisdom teeth taken out tomorrow, which is good because they’ll give me codeine. A tiny bit in a tablespoon of cough medicine will keep you smashed for at least six hours. The only good thing about being an insomniac is that sleeplessness gives you the same euphoric feeling as drugs.
It’s swimming season, which I love. The feel of the water on my body; the control; the precision; it’s awesome. Besides, you can zone out because your body is concentrating instead of your mind. There is no talking or correction or thinking- you just do it. You don’t even really compete with people on your team. I’m good, too. I can’t freestyle very far but I’m fast, and I can breast-stroke forever.
April 15, 1997
Well, having my wisdom teeth out certainly was an experience, but now my parents won’t let me have any more codeine. I really detest being back in school. I went yesterday but came back home after CTBS testing. I’m just so fucking bored. Everyone here is an idiot. The teachers are either control freaks or have no idea what’s going on, the students are imbeciles gossiping and smoking out and staring at the TV. I hate how Hannah comes in every morning, turns the TV on, and sits there staring at it. My mom does it too, except she turns the sound all the way up.
I’m reading a lot of Dorothy Parker’s poetry, as well as this book called The Road Less Traveled and Beyond. It’s about spiritual and mental development in this chaotic world. There is a case of a college student who comes to him and says basically everything I just said about middle school. He told her that she needs to simply accept that she IS superior. And that makes people uncomfortable.
The thing I hate most is that when I do show my feelings, they get ridiculed. I told my mom that I had basically skipped adolescence according to this book, and she said in this fake, mocking voice, “I hate school! Wah wah wah!” and thought it was really funny that she was hurting me. I told her to shut up because I had something important to say. I was about to tell her off but decided not to. I have more self-control than that. I would be no better than her. She did that just to hurt me, and what I would’ve said would have done the same.
She told me she didn’t appreciate being told to shut up. I told her I didn’t appreciate being made fun of. She still acts and thinks like a middle-schooler. She’s jealous, mean for no reason, gossips, and has to get even. That is so juvenile and frustrating. You know what else I’m tired of hearing? “Well, your sister is nine, you’re thirteen, get over it.” I fucking hate that. If I were annoying my mom and she got really pissed off, I guarantee that Dad wouldn’t say, “She’s thirteen, you’re forty-one, get over it.” In fact, the next time that happens, I’ll say that.
April 16, 1997
Dream: Andrew stole someone’s McDonald’s food. Then Ryker stole twenty dollars and I returned it to the owner. Then I was running after Lindsay, Kristy, and Jane, but then gave up and went through a door that was just floating in space to use the phone. It was Cousin Jennifer’s mansion and she was inside playing the piano. There was a mysterious young man there with dimples, light brown hair, and blue eyes. Then we were on the farm the next day, having a party. Jennifer and I swam to the iceberg in the middle of the pond and Hillary was on shore. We all sang “Quando Corpus.” Then I was Jesus in the fishermen’s story with the first two disciples and a small boat.
I’m very tired. Andrew and I went to San Marco and saw half of a really really shitty play. He is fucking his girlfriend but they really love each other so it’s okay. We left during the first act and came home. We both wore our 70’s clothes- I wore my Francis bowling shirt and he wore his polka-dot big ass collar shirt. We got some strange looks when we went to Baskin Robbins’ for ice cream.
The play sucked but we got to spend some quality time together. He feels the same way that I do about school. I told him about cussing out my entire gym class because some bitches said something about my shorts. He was very proud. He only hangs out with the theatre people at his school now; funny thing for a football star to do. I learned to butterfly in swimming today.
April 17, 1997
Dream: I was walking along the beach, trying to find a house to go into so I could use the restroom. I walked into this huge mansion on the beach and met the people who lived there. Then I fell in love with “Wesley” from The Princess Bride, watched a porno with a Hungarian lady, then went to a thrift store. Then I was playing soccer in the choir room. Later, Wesley and I were on the pier talking, and then I drank a bottle of poison and died reciting Romeo and Juliet.
Dream: I was riding in the car with my mom to church when we stopped at a house that was filled with disabled Chihuahuas in cages. Then Alexis made fun of Hannah, who had just committed suicide.
Desire
I want to enter Death
With my eyes open
My ears open
With no masks
No fears
Knowing
And not knowing.
Serenely facing
Other voices
Other airs
Other paths
Forgetting my memories
Detaching myself
Being reborn
Intact.
- Claribel Alegria School is so vile. The students are immature, the teachers are oblivious, there is a vast lack of respect, and the curriculum is pathetic. There are so many characters. An unsure girl wearing the right clothes and in the right crowd. The angst-ridden boys struggling to find their way into manhood. The ones from broken homes, those who are haughty, those filled with love only for themselves. A girl whose mother just passed away wearing tight clothes and flirting and gossiping incessantly. The one who claims she’s not eating lunch because she’s on a diet, rather than admitting her parents’ inadequacies. The girl who is ten pounds too heavy, not eating for an entirely different reason.
There are boys hiding behind glasses, and jerseys, behind images- those who turn to gangs as their only family, violence as their only expression, and drugs as their only pleasure. He pompously brags about the girl he fucked last night and they laugh. One who is laughing has black roots and wears too much makeup. She has yet to find out that her beloved mother cheated on her faithful, supportive father. She tosses her head and adjusts a little to the left so that they can see the tops of her breasts.
While this goes on, a painfully shy creature, not old enough yet to menstruate, hides behind a book. She is wearing a blue dress that her mother says makes her look pretty. The circle sees her and she becomes their prey. One scoffs at the dress, one scorns her intelligence, another giggles nervously, wondering if they do the same when she leaves the room. (They do.) A quiet man-child with dark hair and matching eyes defends her, insisting that she could be pretty with some makeup and if she lost fifteen pounds. She is grateful. The blonde in the tight shirt raises a pencil-thin eyebrow.
Beyond them is one who scrutinizes them with narrowed eyes. They glance at each other nervously, obviously irritated as she rises. She goes to the child who smiles when she declares that she, too, loves Shakespeare, indicating the book so tightly clutched in the girl’s hand. The group of predators leans in and whispers as they pass. No one has ever left their clique on their own accord. “Freak” spits the blonde, bitterly, as the two chastised boys get up from the table. They talk about their shoes.
April 20, 1997
In drama, I got this really cool skit with just me and Alissa. It rocks. When we went into the sanctuary I talked with Chris. He said Matt is just shy but I said, “Bullshit! He doesn’t like me! I don’t have a problem with that. I’d still like to hang out with him.” Then the motherfucker said, “So. I like you.” Chris is fun to flirt with but I don’t like him. He’s pompous and he has boobies.
April 21, 1997
I was in a good mood today. We ran the mile in gym and I came in third place at eight minutes and seventeen seconds. Last year, I ran it in twelve fifty-six. Tomorrow is our first swim meet. I’m doing the breast stroke and the fly. I hope it’s fun.
April 22, 1997
We lost our swim meet but only because the other school had more girls than we did. Right now, I’m in the mood for a boyfriend. Not those scrappy looking guys who were hitting on me and Moe at the meet. Even Ryker would do. Someone who won’t question my reasoning, won’t doubt my words, won’t laugh at my obsessions, or run from my depression. But most of all, someone who won’t have to use words. That is a lot to ask.
April 25, 1997
Last night we went to “Counter the Culture,” a right from wrong program directed at youth. I wore my plaid thrift store bell bottoms and blue muscle shirt that zips in back. On the bus ride home from school Paul goes, “Amelia, you look really sexy in that outfit.” I decided something at the CTC. All these guys that are always touching me, no way; that’s stopping right now. I was never quite sure how to say “no.” Sexual immorality is the only sin you can commit against your own body. I have too much self-respect to allow these scumbags to feel all over me. I’m also making the decision to try harder not to curse. No gossip, either. “Tongues that curse men cannot be the same tongues that praise God.” Alissa and I are doing our funny skit at Mark’s church. I’d rather be in church than in Orlando. Hannah and I are growing closer again. We had a marker fight today. I have red dry-erase marker all over my right arm and she has blue marker on her chest.
I talked to a counselor last night at CTC and realized that I want to help people. I want to give people hope. I want to show them that there is always a reason for living. I don’t want people to have to go through the kind of isolation and frustration I’ve been through. I have to find a way.
Barbie Doll
This girlchild was born as usual
And presented dolls that did pee-pee
And miniature GE stoves and irons
And wee lipsticks the color of cherry candy.
Then, in the magic of puberty, a classmate said;
You have a great big nose and fat legs.
She was healthy, tested intelligent,
Possessed strong arms and back,
Abundant sexual drive and manual dexterity.
She went to and fro apologizing.
Everyone saw a fat nose on thick legs.
She was advised to play coy,
Exhorted to come on hearty,
Exercise, diet, smile, and wheedle.
Her good nature wore out
Like a fan belt.
So she cut off her nose and her legs
And offered them up.
In the casket displayed on satin she lay,
With the undertakers cosmetics painted on,
A turned-up putty nose
Dressed in a pink and white nightie.
Doesn’t she look pretty? everyone said.
Consummation at last.
To every woman a happy ending.
- Marge PerryWhy does my generation watch tv instead of reading poetry? A lot of my friends would benefit from reading that one. It makes me wonder why I can’t just be happy with who/how I am/look. It makes me wonder why everyone else can’t just be happy with who/how I am/look.
April 28, 1997
People underestimate me. That doesn’t really bother me; it’s just that I’m tired of covering up my intelligence to make everyone feel more comfortable about themselves. They have no identity- everyone at the beach middle school is exactly the same. I’m reading Plato, writing poetry, and inventing lots of new and interesting ways to kill myself and I’m only thirteen. But I pretend to be normal.
April 29, 1997
I’m so tired of this school. I hate the people, teachers, classes, and attitudes. I would rather put a hot cigarette lighter to my eyes and burn my pupils out than go to school for the rest of the semester. I’m so tired of people in general; especially girls. They’re so snippety- they gossip and have sex and brag and reject anyone who isn’t wearing Calvin Klein, Nike, or Fila depending on the clique. The men would be tolerable if they could find a happy medium between crushing my heart and molesting me.
April 30, 1997
I lost every event I swam in yesterday and when I got to school and went to get my books, someone wrote “SUCKS DICK” in great big letters in permanent marker on my locker. I’m mad, tired (couldn’t sleep until four a.m. last night), humiliated, and just about to snap. Just one more thing- one thing goes wrong, and I’m going to break down.
May 2, 1997
The extremes. Black, white, good, evil; they’re all inside of me. I am the epitome of each. They say that there’s only one side to things and that’s your side, but what if both sides are in your mind? One part screams YES and another part answers just as vehemently NO. What then? Listen to your heart because of its humanity or to your head because of the logic? This tearing and fighting frightens me. I am lost. I don’t even understand what I’m so torn apart over. There’s nothing wrong with my life.
They say there’s a fine line between genius and insanity. Where is that line? I know it’s there, but where? Where does it start? Where does it end? What does it cover? I need to know. I must not cross that line, and if I have, I must get someone to help me. Why is it that, after being afraid of the dark for so many years, I find it comforting now? It encloses me in its sheltering arms. Peaceful; so unlike the horrid glare of the sun. The blinding sun- the god of rage and pain. The moon masks God’s power so that it is bearable. It showers us with soft, pale light. Light with love and peace and immeasurable joy. It is so lonely in the dark by myself.
I did my skit with the drama group at another church for their youth group. We rode in the van on the way home and I was smushed so Matt said I could sit by him. I wasn’t sure if he likes me or not but I decided not to take any chances, so I sat on the very edge of the seat next to the window. That is, until we made a U-turn and I fell over. He helped me up and proceeded to try to tickle me, but forgot where I was ticklish, so he stopped. He put his arm on my leg and I teasingly told him his arm was in my way. Then, my arm was under his, and he slowly laced his fingers into mine.
I sat in pure bliss for a while until he started going up my shirt. I was hunched over and I didn’t want him to feel my fat stomach. I stretched out so my stomach was flat and he pulled his hand away. I was trying to help him out and he thought I wanted him to stop! After a while he tried to hold my hand again and I said, “Matt, do you like me or not?” and he goes “Yes!” but after that he kind of ignored me so I don’t believe that for a second. I don’t even really like him so what do I care? Well, I guess it should make me feel better that my skit was good and Alyssa said I was beautiful. Matt told me the skit was good. I wish he had told me I was beautiful instead.
May 3, 1997
Hannah and I were supposed to go around the park in groups of three but we got special permission to chill together. I’m allergic to something on the bus and my eyes get all red and itchy. We met some really nice guys but the rest of the day sucked big cock. Nichole got to receive the trophies along with OF ALL PEOPLE my elementary school bully Lillian Crouch! What? Who runs the chorus here? The second trophy, Layla and I went down. I deserve some sort of recognition. Hannah and I are going to Epcot with Mrs. Tucker tomorrow while everyone else goes to Disney. Yes! I’d rather be with the crippled girl than the retards from my school. She’s really nice and we get to cut everyone in line.
May 12, 1997
I’m tired and hungry. Saturday at the D.C. Talk concert, Matt ditched me with Richard. I wasn’t speaking to him. But yesterday he explained to me that he wasn’t trying to leave me, he was trying to get rid of Richard. He can be so sweet one minute and a total jerk the next. Just like every other guy.
May 13, 1997
I saw Matt at the TAHS vocal concert last night. We just kind of stared at each other and mumbled awkward hellos. You know what Paul said to me? He sat there and told me that he wanted my body. I was like, is this a joke? The less makeup I wear and the less I try, the more guys like me. Just last week Paul kept touching my ass and saying I had an awesome body and a hard ass and all this other stuff. He’s the hottest guy in school.
It’s weird. I’ve never really thought of myself as being attractive. I have to say it’s from working out and my 800 calorie a day diet. I’m confident and cocky when it comes to things like that now. When I wore a Boy Scout shirt to school and Lindsay said, “Why are you wearing that?” like it’s any of her fucking business, instead of being embarrassed or changing I said, “Because I can.” Kiss my ass, you cliché bitch.
May 14, 1997
Why can’t I just be someone else? I am rejected by mindless idiots. These people are so moronic- so profoundly stupid, and yet they have the social power to label me an outcast. And me, why, I’ve got to be the dumbest of all because I just keep coming back for more. Is this all life has to offer? A joint and a fuck and then let me die? What’s the point? Where’s the master plan? I am so weary and jaded. Alienated and alone. I remember the empty, bare tears of adolescent mood swings (that which I called “depression.”) I can’t even cry anymore.
May 18, 1997
What do I do now? Sleep will not come. The need to live and live and live. Freedom of choice is a lie. Lies lies lies lies, all lies. Give me truth. Give me God. The quest to be new. I must be a new creature, born of love; a new creation. Lies. I am not. It is what my life means. So I’m supposed to be reborn through love? Love confuses and hurts. I’m ready for this cleansing. Lies? I don’t know. So what do I do now? Wait? Pray? Cry? I shall never have Him to myself.
May 25, 1997
I got Matt a stuffed-animal goat yesterday for his birthday present. (Whenever he thinks I look hot, he brays at me. Don’t ask.) I got a big hug out of it. He’s thinking of cutting his hair and if he does I will beat him. He has beautiful, long, ice-blond surfer hair. It would be a shame to cut it all off.
I can’t wait to graduate from this school, go to Junaluska, and hike the Appalachian Trail. I’ve mentioned how much Sunny and I are alike but I didn’t know how much until she gave a testimony in church yesterday. She used to overeat and was bulimic. I was anorexic but now I’m obsessed with muscle. Oddly, I don’t feel that annoyed at the people in my school as the end of the year approaches. I’m irritated by their lack of responsibility and respect, but most of all I pity them. I can’t believe I was ever upset by a single one of their opinions.
May 29, 1997
I think I figured out why I hate having to tuck in my shirt so much. It makes everyone look the same. How you wear your clothes is as much a part of your personality as the way you talk. Even so, I’m afraid that if everyone were allowed to dress as they wanted, they would still choose to dress the same. I don’t really care. I like looking good enough for guys to want me just so I can turn them down in as little of a time slot as possible. I like smart, sexy men, who are funny and a little bit mysterious. Middle-school guys just don’t fit into those categories, unless I accidentally wrote down “moronic” and “leg-humpers” on that list. It scares me that these people have no personalities or self-control.
Layla didn’t get elected President of the advanced choir. Mandy did- once again proving that there are more petty girls in chorus than serious vocalists. I’m going to talk to her tomorrow. I’ll give her the speech I wish someone would’ve given me. She loves music like I do and I don’t want her ‘friends’ to discourage her from her dreams. People are going to try to drag her down, but those are the ones who didn’t see you practicing after school when everyone else had gone home. They haven’t heard of the countless competitions you’ve finished dead last. They aren’t willing to work for it. By the end of the year, everyone will know who the president should’ve been.
Image is nothing. Titles are nothing. Position is nothing. All that counts is the performance. Don’t do it only to get acceptance. Do it because it needs to be done. And do it because you don’t care who knows; you just love it. It’s your first thought in the morning and your last before you fall asleep. Music fills the void. Or is that that gushy feeling I get from reading the Bible? I can’t tell- it confuses me. My heart wants to follow God but I submit to temptation. Like Justin Rhodes.
Okay, I just need to deal with this right now. I was head over heels with Justin; I mean obsessed. I lusted after him for over a year and he rejected me multiple times. Very publicly. Ouch. And then Diego before he left for Venezuela. Josh, who I trusted, had sex with two girls within the first week we went out. Liking Diego and him asking for Hannah’s number when he took me to a movie that I thought was a date. Matt, and his ignoring me and playing mind games with me. Ryker for cheating on me and manipulating me. I really liked Ryker and he cheated on me with Maureen for God’s sake! She’s like a Kindergarten teacher!
June 1, 1997
I was reading what The Prophet has to say about joy and sorrow. “The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.” Why is it that when I need God the most, He disappears? When I’m joyous, He fills me. When I want to die, I am left to fend for myself against the sweet temptation of suicide. I try to trust Him but I can’t when it feels like He’s not there.
June 8, 1997
We went to Putt-Putt after Alexis’s show. I want to smoke out. In all my dreams lately I’ve been smoking pot. Last night I dreamed Hannah and I went to ‘Nardo’s and took his plants. Then my mom came in and asked me what I was doing. “Smoking weed.” She stood there. “Oh, okay” and walked out. How weird is that? I think it’s because I have nothing else to do. I’ve never tried weed. I hope Chris doesn’t like me or try to kiss me or take my friendliness for flirtation. That would embarrass us both.
June 10, 1997
I was going to call Chris and explain that tomorrow will be a day shared between two friends and that I’m not ready to be more than that. But when I called he said, “Thank God you called. I feel really down.” He was talking about how much he misses his ex-girlfriend and I felt relieved. When he used the word ‘date’ to describe tomorrow, I corrected him. I used the word ‘friend’ a lot so I think I got the point across.
June 13, 1997
First I’ll tell you about Wednesday night. After Drama, we were walking by Chris’s car when his ex and a bunch of her friends drove up. His best friend since second grade totally bitched him out. It turns out that she and his ex are lovers now. He was really pissed so we drove around for a while. Before that, we stayed at his house and had spaghetti for dinner. We played Nintendo, watched TV, listened to music, played catch, teased his dog, and talked.
I went with him to buy board shorts at Target. We went in the toy section and listened to radios and danced. Then Chris spotted this two foot tall bike and got on it. He started pedaling despite the tires being flat. We played hockey with a HyperWheel and I started hula-hooping. Then we put on life vests and tiny backpacks- I almost died laughing. We got kicked out and drove to the beach.
We decided to walk on the beach together, and talked and signaled to the boats with a flashlight. He almost convinced me to have an underwear race but the thought of his weird doughy body in tighty whiteys gave me the chills. He thinks we’re exactly alike. We are both Geminis but that’s where it stops. I’d already told him how I hated kissing and when we pulled into my driveway, he said that this was the first date where he hadn’t kissed the girl. I told him congratulations. You win a gift certificate to Blockbuster.
I miss the mountains so much. We went to Sliding Rock and I was the first to go down. When I hit the water, it was so cold I couldn’t even breathe! Matt asked out Stacey while he’s playing Candace. She said no. We were talking and this kid behind us was about to go. We told him to move so he didn’t hit us. He didn’t move and Candace almost broke her arm. I went to a workshop on peer counseling called Tear Catchers.
Now for my incredible story. I was in this beautiful garden with huge columns on the water and I was meditating. God threw some Bible verses into my head. I looked up at a cross lit up on the far-off mountain. It started to drizzle. I murmured, “God, You are awesome.” And it rained even harder. The more I basked in His glory, the harder it rained. I prayed for God to change me, and with my closing words, it stopped. I mean, “In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen” BOOM. Nothing.
June 14, 1997
There is so much I need to change about myself as a Christian. I need to stop cussing, discipline myself to read the Bible, and gain patience with other people. Last night was a great night of joy and realization. Now I will silently carve out of my deepest sorrow a new self; a new soul and a better life. And maybe some happiness. A little satisfaction. Perhaps a pinch of compassion.
I need to be more loving to receive such love. I need to be more forgiving. I need to be grateful and supportive. Spending time alone is the only way to banish loneliness. Spending time misunderstood is the only way to understand. Pain becomes your joy after a long period of emptiness. Joy becomes sorrow too quickly. Desolation is rejoiced over because when a friend actually does come through for you, it is unique and unexpected. Are those not the best joys of all?
Emptiness is loneliness, though loneliness is not always empty. For emptiness will fill with anything it can snatch up and consume. Loneliness is cleanliness, but cleanliness is not loneliness. Being clean is being pure and fulfilled by God’s promises. Cleanliness is Godliness, for only God is truly clean, but by repenting He brings you closer to Him. But God is not empty, nor is He unrelenting. I am beginning to be filled by His loving-kindness. I pray that He will continue to work in me and eventually, through me, in others by His Holy Spirit. This incredible joy that begins to swell in me I feel is taking over the gaping hole that once was my heart.
June 15, 1997
It has been so much fun here. I have seen God’s will through the love of others- of perfect strangers. I feel that God is calling me to witness and be a rock for my friends. I was exhausted from being a shoulder for everyone to cry on without a shoulder of my own. I asked God to help me be strong and resist temptation. My worst temptations are pleasure and my doubts. I know that it was not me speaking and praying with my friends. I was an instrument of God.
After we headed back from Cross Hill I stopped at the colonnade to cry and pray in solitude. If I’m going to be strong for others, they need to think I am strong. I can always cry to God. On Cross Hill I stood up and gave my testimony. I said that I struggled with depression and explained how I got kicked out of my old church. I found this one, and found that there were people who loved me and there was a God that loved me. I said that a month ago, all I wanted was to die, and now I wouldn’t give up this life for anything. Then I told everyone I loved them and they were all crying. It was something they’d never known about me.
I am truly devoted and truly ready to be God’s servant. I walked back from Colonnade and sure enough Satan crept into my head. I was alone. But I prayed with God and banished Satan by declaring my love for God, my rebirth as a Christian, and that I am now a child of the light. True, I will sin again. Yes, I might turn away. But God will always love me and I always Him. I will plead forgiveness and His help and rededicate my life as many times as I need to. He fills my emptiness, quiets my loneliness, and rids me of sorrow. This is my last entry in my journal and there are a lot of things I need to remind myself of:
God loves me. The only source of pain is sin. God is forgiving. Love others always. Pray. Let your actions be a witness to God’s light. Being a Christian is hard. It’s okay to be vulnerable. Grow from love. God is love.