What I got for Christmas is: a smooshee house, a smooshee racoon, a sara 'n dipidy book, a cat you paint, a Jump suit, calc-u-draw, a Workbook and a skirt with a sweater, Wish world Kids, chocolates, and This DiARY!

March 3, 1994

Today is the best day that I've had in a long time. At lunch in the Caf, Brendan was there the whole hour! I gazed, and gazed, and gazed. Coming back from band, I walked by a door to the outside, and was halfway by, when I looked over and saw Brendan paused in his steps, watching me! He got new jeans that make him look so good....

January 22, 1995

This afternoon was the show. Class 4, English Pleasure. I got on Peach, and she felt electric. Each movment of hers was practiced and calculated. Walk. Trot. Then, into canter. Even, balanced, magical. We slowed to a perfect stop. First place to number 166, Peach. I smiled, but also deep inside.

January 30, 1996

Dear God, I feel so utterly alone. I don't know who I am, or what I am, or where I am, or even if I am. I wish, I wish, If Only, who, what, when, why why why?

April 1, 1997

I saw him out of the corner of my eye. Let him wait. I turned around. He was waiting for me. "So you climb, right?" he said. "Well, I have before." "I'm going to Lighthouse on Sunday, if you want to come..." I'm sixteen, and I have been asked out.

August, 1997

Knee deep in the Pacific waves,
I reflect and concentrate.
The salt-laced wind blows gently strong,
Staring at the horizon, my face is long

The gulls soar over the sandstone,
Terns flock, a seal all alone.
Eyes closed, I clear my mind,
Forgotten troubles, my soul free to find...

September 20, 1999

It happened last night. I lost my virginity. Actually, it didn't work at all. It just DIDN'T WORK.

December 5, 2001

I'm in a horrible place. This sick place. This disordered place. Struggling for control, trying to filter right from wrong. What's real... what I want.. how much of Love is how much the other person loves you? Flattery if you will... do I really want HIM or just that he makes me feel good? I can't study... mid's all disconnected... dumped Chris. On the phone. Bitch. I hate myself. My cowardliness. Weak. So weak. Destroying anything good I had.

Excerpts from my anthology of paper diaries. If I didn't have those, I'd never be able to remember how it felt to be in grade 8. Or grade 6. Or grade 12.