The Problem With Dating a Drop-Out

High School Diary Chronicles

Summary:  Apparently I put these two letters in my diary that my then-boyfriend, Steven,  wrote to me, who was an ex gang member.  As you can see, his mentality hadn’t changed much as a drop-out.  All I can say now, is love is blind.

December 4, 1995

Dear Diary,

When my dad came and got me after I performed in the parade, I asked him if I could go to Steven’s for a little while. He said yes, if he could talk to his mom again, and he did when we got home.  I got to Steven’s house like at 3:45. My dad was planning on picking me up at 5:00 so it sucked because we didn’t have too much time to hang out.

So when I got there, Steven invited me in, and we went to his room. I asked him for my letter. He didn’t want to give me the letter because he said that it was bad. I said I didn’t care. We were just talking, and he got up to show me something, and I just got up and went to him, and we hugged and kissed, and I told him I missed him. He said it back–I think–I wasn’t paying attention. I finally got him to give me the letter he wrote. While I was reading it, he grabbed it away from me and said he changed his mind, but I got it back from him. As I read it, he was just holding me. I think he was afraid I was going to be really pissed at him. I wasn’t really, just a little upset. The first letter said:

11-24-95

Hello Babe,

How are you? Me okay, so what? I’m not in a great mood, as you now. That’s why I’m writing to say that I’m very sorry for being an asshole to you on the phone today. I just have a lot on my mind and it really didn’t help when I found out that that guy has been bugging you. I have to say this before I tell you how I found out. Remember I told you I have someone keeping an eye on you? I wasn’t lying. I was kicking it with him last night and we talked a lot, and he told me that’s all he knows. I’m not trying to be jealous, I just want to know if you’re having any problems. And I love you. I’d never dream of hurting you or you getting hurt because of me, and when you wouldn’t give me his number, it was like you were protecting him. That really hurt me. If I was not so much in love with you and didn’t care for your feelings, I’d just do it my way and go to see him, and you know what I’ll do to him. But I was going to try it the nice way and just tell him the most nicest way I could and warn him over the phone. But you promised if he does it again you’ll tell me his number.  But if you don’t tell me and I find out from friends, I will do it my way. And I don’t want to because you’ll be mad at me, and I don’t like hurting people.  But I don’t like people fucking with you because they’re not fucking with you, they’re fucking with me, and I’m not someone to fuck with because I don’t have much of a life. I will do whatever I have to, to make sure that you don’t have problems, even if it means my life or going to jail, because right now you’re my life, so I won’t let anything happen to you. If you don’t understand, in a nutshell just tell me. Because I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you happy. OK? If you still don’t understand, please ask. Well I’ll change the subject. I had a lot of fun on Wednesday. I wished it didn’t end. I hope we can spend more time together. Well I’m going to bed so I can have some more good dreams about you. That’s all I can do is think about you all day and night.

Love you 4-ever

Steven

(Here’s the second letter)

11-28-95

Hello. So how are you? Me OK just kicking it waiting for your letter. So I hope you’re having fun at Melissa’s. Oh, I’m mad at you because it’s almost too late for you to call and you haven’t. Well to change the subject. I sent the letter so AHAHA. Well that’s all except if Melissa’s boyfriend tries to say any shit about me and I find out, I will kill him. Not just beat him–kill him. So don’t try to stop me. It’s just a warning. But I’m not trying to get you mad at me. I’ll let you go. I love you 4-ever. I love you more than you love me. (Maybe the same.)

Steven XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

She’s A Heartbreaker

High School Diary Chronicles

January 24, 1995

Dear Diary,

Well, a lot has happened today!  Tim and I broke up.  Actually, I dumped him — well, in his words, we “parted”.  I just started to realize that I don’t want to go out with anyone right now.  I’m not responsible enough to be in a relationship. He took it very hard. I wrote him a letter saying that I wanted to break up.  I think that he knew, because I was acting like such a bitch to him in sixth period today.  I feel bad that I did that now. How stupid can I get?

Anyways, after school I gave him the letter, and he asked if the letter was good or bad.  I told him to just read the letter. But as he started to read the letter, I told him not to read it in front of me.  He asked me if I was going to dump him. I said, “Yes, but you’ll understand in the letter.”  He then had tears in his eyes, and said, “You’re dumping me?” and I said “Yes,” and he said, “But I’m in love with you,” and then just started to cry right there.  I have never felt so bad in all of my life.  I know that I hurt him.  He then gave me a hug and a kiss, and left in tears.  God, I felt so bad.

I Used To Be Sad

I used to be sad.  Sometimes I forget what it felt like to be that sad.  Once in a great while, it will come back in glimpses, and I’ll welcome it like an old friend, relishing the darkness of it.  I’ll immediately have the urge to follow my old routine, which was to get drunk and then close my eyes and blast angry or sad music into my headphones.  The sadness would feel warm and prickly, and the tears… they were the best part. The tears were what allowed me to breathe again.

 

December 12, 2004

Sometimes when I get depressed, I get angry at myself for being that way, and feel like I should punish myself. Like I don’t deserve to be happy. If it were someone else, I would want to say to them, “Stop feeling so fucking sorry for yourself, and get up off your ass and do something about it, if you’re not happy.” Guess what? It’s easier to bury my head under a pillow with the light off and cry like a fucking baby. Maybe I’m a fucking masochist. Maybe I like the pain and hurting myself. Maybe I like the feeling of a red flushed face, choking on my breath, and the fact that my head feels numb and my fingertips feel tingly. If I were to bang my head against the wall, I wouldn’t feel a thing. Then I could look into the mirror and glare at this ridiculous and disgusting girl staring back at me, and tell her how fucking pathetic she is.