A few posts back, I wrote about finding one of my old diaries in my mother’s bedroom. Over a few days I read what I had written, and realised that although I’m still angry that she betrayed my trust after I thought we were doing well building a relationship, in a way I’m glad she kept it; I’ve learned a lot about myself through those diary entries, and I’ve decided to share some of them.
Monday 9th January, 2006.
I’ve always written a diary with the idea that maybe somebody else would read it. I think that’s why I always give up a few months in. So this diary will be written by me, for me, and nobody else.
I have been alive for 21 years and 1 month. 2006 is my 22nd year; something I’m finding hard to digest. I never thought I would see 21. It always seemed like a million years away, a goal I could never achieve, an age I didn’t want to reach. I find it hard to imagine how low I sunk through the years; the overdoses, the starving, the running away, the total disregard for myself. I never thought I’d get this far. I didn’t want to.
I’m not entirely sure how this year is going to pan out. There’s no denying it started off badly; nearly breaking up with O, the arguments, the fact that as new year arrived I was alone… I can only hope it’s not an indication that 2006 is going to be a crap year.
Met Elizabeth in town today*; we planned to see Brokeback Mountain but our cinema isn’t showing it. I can’t wait for the day I can move away from here. Sadly, since I have another two or three years left of college, it doesn’t look like it’ll be soon.
* Elizabeth and I were best friends for a number of years; we met at college and she called me her sister, said we were soulmates. Like most things in my life, I ruined the relationship (although she played a part) and we no longer speak.
Tuesday 10th January
Eventually got to bed at 2.30 last night, but didn’t get to sleep until 6. Tossed and turned for hours, opened the window, kicked the cat, put the light on, but just couldn’t sleep. Woke up half an hour later after a horrible dream and I know there’s no way I’m going to sleep after that. O is so cruel in my dreams, and I know it’s not really him but they’re so painfully realistic sometimes that I woke up fully believing he would leave me crying on the floor, that he would cut me out of his life. That’s my biggest fear.
I didn’t go into college today. Set off as normal, feeling a bit agitated after the dream, then halfway there I started shaking and feeling panicky, like I was closed in, like everyone was staring at me. Got off the bus and sat down at the bus stop and tried to call O but got no reply. Sat there for a while, getting more and more anxious, sweating, wanting to cry. Phoned college in the end and left a message; Ros will probably think I’m a crazy woman, I was stuttering and losing my train of thought. Took me forever to get hold of O and by then I was so stressed out I could only shout and rant at him for not answering earlier. Feel so guilty about it now. I know we desperetly need to talk. Otherwise, I think we might just fall apart.
Ate some soup then fell asleep when I got home. Tried speaking to O again but I can’t get the words out. I feel utterly useless today.