March 1990

Melisa and I got up, got ready, and took the bus downtown. There were business people everywhere. For a second I could appreciate being in Chicago. We went to an old bookstore, then to Water Tower Place. But everything was too expensive.

In homeroom Maggie wanted to talk about our friendship. She said she was sick of having to jump in front of me just to say "hi", and of having to wait for me and Lisa to have a fight so that I would talk to her. I said that she herself was the only reason I did not talk to her. She didn't say anything. I was called into the counseling office to pick my classes for senior year. Ms. Kaminski and I talked about my grades and I told her what was bothering me. She gave me the number to Loyola's Doyle Center- where I once saw a therapist after my stupid suicide attempt. I read some journal entries to Tracy today and after slipping a couple times about my sexuality I came out to her. She said that Lisa had told her about me last summer. Tracy was really cool about my confusion.

I yelled at dad. I told him I should have killed myself. Saw the darker side of things. I couldn't see a future. Tracy called in the middle of all this and told me to come over. Tara was there and we talked. I love her, she's so funny. We got beer. I got really fucked up. It was scary.

I'm so angry. Sooo angry! I hate life. I feel suicidal but I can't tell anyone. Tracy wants me to talk to her but it would be stupid to talk about it. I'd feel like I was asking for pity. I blame my parents for the way I feel.

I've decided to let dad drink all he wants and not let it bother me. If it makes him happy… which I think it does. My poor father, he doesn't really have anyone. He lost it all. He only lives to support us, his sons. I love you, dad. He's right here, should I tell him? I should. But it's not easy. Conrad told Lisa he was suicidal. Someone should figure out what's up with him, quick! Brandon said Conrad was only joking but I used to say it and no one believed it, not even myself, sometimes. God, I love this cruel, sweet, confused life. I've decided not to worry about anything. After all, this is all a dream.

Teenage life! Re-enacting the same scene over and over again. No matter how happy I am with friends it's the times when I'm alone, like now, that truly count. I have to get to know and love myself…

Snuck a bottle of rum into Tracy's house and watched a movie with Lisa and Tracy. Lisa was really drunk, held me, and played with my hair. It was strange. I wanted to kiss her.

We went to see "Too Much Light Makes The Baby Go Blind" again. Afterward we went to the Bistro and danced. Damon, one of Marcelo's friends whom I met on New Year's Eve, came up to us. He hugged and kissed me, and wanted me to stay but I told him no.

After the Junior Ring Dance we went to a hotel and got fucked up. Like always Lisa and I got into a fight.

Tracy and I stuffed our pockets with beer and headed downtown for the St. Patrick's Day Parade. By the time we got there we'd missed most of it. We snuck into an alley to drink our beer, and Tracy peed behind a dumpster. Two older men came up to us and smoked a joint with us. Tracy didn't smoke. Then we went to a party with a bunch of Irish-American people. It's the first time that I've actually celebrated St. Patty's Day with the Irish.

I found condoms in dad's coat pocket. My friends and I are happy for him. He went out again tonight, which is very much unlike him. But today was the worst day of my life. I cried uncontrollably and thought about suicide. I hated everything and myself. Thinking about the saddest things. I broke a glass.

In a note Lisa wrote that she felt she had been replaced by Tracy, who is her childhood friend, and that she didn't matter to me anymore. I guess that's partially true, but not totally.

I'm thinking of calling the number Ms. Kaminski gave me for counseling. I miss those moments alone with my dog when I was younger in Santa Rosa. I wish I could go back to a time when I had nothing to worry or think about. I feel really old…

I feel like a stranger to myself. I don't know how to feel anymore. It makes me angry to think of all that's happened to me. I used to smile, be innocent. I called Doyle Center and some woman called back. She seemed to know a lot about me from my one visit with a therapist last August. She asked a lot of questions and wanted to know too much, and made me uncomfortable. I hate that feeling I get whenever I talk to any professional. Trying to sound normal but in return sounding like you're really trying. They want dad to call because parents have to be involved in the process. I totally don't want that! I just don't want to ask dad. At Reza's someone had a birthday party and a cake. There was singing and cameras flashing. They seemed so happy. In our home we don't celebrate anything anymore. We haven't had a Christmas tree, colored eggs, or shit for three years now.

My cousin Ray bought us beer. Lisa was there. We did shots of something and had a nice conversation in the dining room. We looked at some old photographs and really talked. It felt great being drunk with family and Lisa.

In the morning Lisa was crashed on the couch in my green cardigan. She looked like a baby. I ran errands and when I came back Lisa was awake. We smoked, had lunch, and decided to go for a walk. We talked and laughed, and as we did this I thought to myself, It's fun being a teenager… sometimes. I danced, skipped, and sang. When you're young you can be silly.

Dad was drunk. Mom didn't call.

I hate it when I look back on lost things- the smallest things have been upsetting me.

Love is not near.

I'm fat, ugly, a fag, stupid, lazy, boring. I wish I could talk to my friends, but you can't tell people this scary stuff.

I bought the beer today. There's a liquor store on Clark that sells to anyone. I was rather proud of myself and yet, a little disappointed.