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3.15.04 Dear Journal,

I've decided that although it's better to generalize and say everything's dandy in my weird little world, it's a whole lot better to complain.  Sure, it takes up too much time and consideration, but would you rather get stomped on for having opinions or saying what other people want to hear, or in this case, read?

Speaking of saying things that are pleasant and usually untrue, I finally realized what an idiot I was for believing that unconditional love exists.  I have been turned on by people that I held in my heart.  I can't look at trust the same way, because I've insured so much in those who have proved to be a waste of feelings.

3.07.04 Dear Journal,

I don't think I've ever elaborated on James' and my relationship. Looking back, I've only mentioned him once or twice as a friend. Well, back in the day, we weren't just friends. More than a year ago, I'd already heard enough about him, yet I hadn't actually seen him before. A weekend or two before that, though, I finally met him while a bunch of us were at Maria's house. Two girls had wanted him to ask them out and, being the only unbiased and middle ground person there, I was elected to figure it out. All day I badgered him about it and finally he decided to respond automatically "you".

Of course he was kidding. I knew it even when he started hanging around me, going out of his way, even when he'd look so surprised whenever I laughed at his jokes, even when he asked me to hang out. Without suspecting a thing, I agreed to, just as friends. That Saturday night, he stayed by my side, kissed my hand at random moments, and talked to me. I had felt something for him then, something that lasted for the next few days. And weeks. I was the one to tell him first. And then I heard that, even though I hadn't know that he existed the year before, he had already liked me. I waited for him to do something, but he didn't, and eventually I lost interest.

By the time he had the nerve to make a call to action, I'd gotten over it. I remember that he said he needed to ask me something over lunch. I quickly said, "Before you do, I have to tell you something". I sighed, leveled my eyes to look into his and said, "I... don't really like you like that anymore." I'll never forget that moment. I felt sick to my stomach as I watched his face changed, like something had changed, and he could only see me as a monster from then on. We didn't talk much after that, not until we bumped into each other at a downtown concert in the summer.

Then the late night phone calls started up again. We claimed we were focusing on new people the day we found ourselves hanging out again. We were half lying. The pattern repeated itself, over and over. I figured we had to move on. He figured he couldn't. He confessed it to me the night I had friends celebrate my birthday at a hotel. Since then, since that early December morning, he has been convince that we should've been together. He always mentions that when we talk on the phone. He mentioned it this week, too, when Caton, Isaac, Kaitlin, he and I were hanging out. I hate how he says he loves me. He doesn't really know me. And I don't trust him or care for him anymore. I appreciated how kind he was at the beginning, but really, I didn't know him then either. Yeah, our relationship is complicated. He didn't let me see him, he didn't want me to see him, and I only let him see my slightly irritated side. It wouldn't have worked out.

2.26.04 Dear Journal,

I cannot believe how far I've strayed from the people I considered close at one point in time. My sister and I do not share that ancient old closeness that bonded us anymore, and I have extracted myself from my circle of friends. What's scarier is that my time has been swamped with papers, tons of papers, instead of human beings. I do not have time to listen to the radio anymore, and I catch myself eating compulsively throughout the day. And with this recent fight with my dad, who believes, knows really, that his personal and religious convictions should govern my life, I feel my head pounding with the pressure, ready to explode. I am on the verge of insomnia. My happiness has withered into nothingness.

2.16.04 Dear Journal,

Isaac is making me way paranoid. He likes holding my purse, he likes going into my purse. He likes taking out my makeup and putting it on, on us both. I thought it was weird giving him my old backpack, giving him one of my cherished beanie babies upon incessant request, and getting him to fall in love with Dawson's Creek by saying I liked that show. But I was completely shocked and appalled when he got a matching black peacoat, a Gap scarf, and a Canadian Roots shirt. I wanted a Gap scarf before I got the one I have now, and I'm Canadian, and I don't even have a Roots shirt. Okay, overactive paranoia is making me freak out. This is Isaac I'm writing about, one of my very few best friends. He's not trying to be me...

2.03.04 Dear Journal,

As I keep on living and breathing, the world becomes only more darker and uglier. It doesn't get better, just gets more hopeless and twisted. I don't trust many people, not even my alleged close friends, because they either let me down or they make promises they will never be able to keep.  People are this way, though, and when I think about it, I act different around different people. It's not in that 'miss popular' type of way, more like in the transparent way. It's because I always want to be the perfect person to each, well, person. I am what each person visualizes; it's like I become what they want to see. I don't know why I assume this role. It's like taking on too many faces, too many alter egos. You forget which one is really yours.

1.29.04 Dear Journal,

Khody's birthday. Wow, we've known each other for twelve years now. It's odd to say we're still best friends, because I know we're not as close anymore. In fact, I know there are plenty of people who know her as well as I do. I mean, we were young then, not really worried about our futures, if we were still going to be in each other's. We weren't who we used to be, not who we are now. I don't want to admit or accept that we've changed, strayed apart, but feigning ignorance wouldn't be fair to myself. We still keep in touch... I don't know. Millie said that a good friendship is one that will last through all sorts of storms.  It's the kind of friendship that time and distance cannot erase. And when it's all said and done, you still remember how the other is. How she laughs, how she cries, what things she smiles or doesn't smile at. It's the bond that, even though we haven't been hanging out lately, we can still finish each other's sentences. I hope she doesn't forget me, because after all this time, I haven't forgotten her.

1.24.04 Dear Journal,

The site lives on.  The new year has resurrected so much more in me.  Things, as they always will, have changed.  I don't know where to begin.  Since I last wrote, too much has happened.  For starters, so many people have died. There's James' dad, my grandmother, Carissa's granduncle, and James' grandfather.  The losses are almost unreal to me.  I mean, when my grandmother died, it was as though I'd already known, that I'd already expected it.  I didn't cry throughout the whole entire thing, not even when we went back to Toronto and reunited with family I hadn't seen in years, not even when I saw her in her casket, not even when I sang at her funeral.  I just couldn't.

By that time, I'd become friends with new people.  People like Carissa, who I happened to click with instantaneously.  She was one of those people I stumbled upon, who became something of a light to me faster than I'd expected.  Then there's Caitlin, from across the street, who I have a blast with.  She's fun and funny, and she and Carissa got along fine (big plus).  There's other Kaitlin, from school, who's one of the most rufus (substitute for cool) friends I have.  Of course, I stayed with Isaac.  I'm glad that we're still friends, and that we're as close as we are.  Like Carissa, he's a beacon of light for me.

My views have changed as well, but I won't delve into them, for it would take time to explain what I've learned, experienced, and felt.  I think it's best to leave them as sidenotes, those I will reveal in time and entries.

 

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