Total exhibitionist.

Nothing is more horrifying and fascinating than reading your old diary.

Oh, dear lord. My God. Heavens have mercy. Jesus, Mary — and Joseph, too.

Christ on a fucking bicycle.

This is too much.

“19 July, 1998. Had the accident a week ago. Smashed in my maxilla, lost three teeth, squished my septum, banged up my knee. Didn’t feel anything at first. Then I got depressed. Now I just hurt …”

“12 Oct. 1998. This is eight kinds of insane! In a week my life has turned wacky. I’ve developed a strange fascination with Iain Eastman, down the hall. I think about him all the time …”

“29 Jan. 2000. I just watched Dead Poets Society. I am filled with — an appreciation for life, a confusion for who i am, where I’m going, who I will be. I broke up with Iain a month or two ago. … Soon I’ll have new teeth, which, I guess, will close this chapter of my life, in a way …”

“11 June 2000. Listening to “Car Toons,” staring at stale Sanka, sitting on my futon in my new studio apartment in Fort Wayne, Indiana. This is so weird. … “

“12 July 2000. Tango with depression. … Matt showed me the picture he took with his accordian camera. Drooping eyes, shiny face, flat hair, weak chin. Awful. Not poetically ugly — just yucky, plain uninspired ugly. … I thought, If he can see the ugliness, everyone else can. Why haven’t they pointed it out? How did they choke back the gorge to talk to me?”

“30 Nov. 2000. Patrick won’t talk to me. I feel sick, ulcer-sick. … I know he needs time. I just hope he doesn’t break my heart. I hope England doesn’t separate us …”

“19 Feb. 2001. Ugh. Up too late procrastinating. Think I just made [a couple] dumb move[s]. … “

“03 April 2001. I smelled it in the air tonight. The scent of humidity, of things growing. This is the first day of Spring.”

“22 April 2001. Self-identity. Oh, what a bitch. Who am I? See, I can write an entry that’s not about boys. … D’oh! Three more weeks til Graduation. And then … settledness. A home, a job, and a new life … lord help me. The one thing I dread is that New Life, Post-College will mean a narrowing, an end to cool times, self-searching, self-questing, new knowledge, etc. I guess that’s where the library card comes in … “

“11 June 2001. Smoking in my bedroom with moonlight streaming in. Worked at the Times-Dispatch today. I talked to Iain and agreed to meet with him Tuesday … “

“07 November 2001. Part of me feels really comfy with getting married. The other part feels like, ‘What if?’ What if I lose all my feminist independent shtuff? What if it all comes to naught? Or is vanquished? Or is just a ruse? I just want to hold on to who I am. I think I can do that, especially with Iain to lean on … “

And you thought I was writing personal shit before.

This is like a disease, this bizarre desire to share shit with the world. Just — don’t hold it against me.

May 30, 2003 | Filed Under auto-categorized