April 26, 2006

Dear Journal,

No, I have not dropped nor do I plan to drop the "journal" thing. In my eyes, you are still a journal, not a diary. Diaries are stupid.

So today was Simon's birthday…how incredibly uneventful. I guess after you've reached the big 20 then birthdays aren't especially important anymore. We went out to eat at some so-so restaurant and he and Cecilia just stared at each other across the table the whole time. No presents unless you include a gift card to some bookstore that he's never going to use, and no birthday cake. Does that sound like a fun birthday to you? I don't think so.

I mean, sure I don't want my next birthday to include paper streamers and a Barbie cake, but I sure hope it's not as boring as his was. It was hardly even a birthday at all. This brings me to my next point, which is that anything and everything that happens involving me is totally boring. It's true. Whenever I'm not around, interesting stuff happens. I swear, if I'd suddenly caught cold and stayed home I bet that they would have bumped into Kelly Clarkson at the restaurant and she would have proceeded to escort them to the coolest, hippest, most expensive party on the face of the earth – V.I.P., of course.

And that brings me to my next, next point, which is that I don't need to keep a diary. Nothing interesting ever happens to me. So this will definitely be my last entry.

Hope you have a good life on the top shelf of my closet! Collect lots of dust!

Ruthie Camden

April 27, 2006

Dear Journal,

Okay, so something interesting actually did happen today. I broke up with Peter.

My hand is going to cramp so badly after I finish scribbling this down, but here's what happened…

We planned to meet at the Promenade. Sounds simple enough, right? But Peter was late. Yes, he was very late indeed. After a while I got sick of waiting for him and went home, absolutely seething. Then he called. Here is the exact dialogue as I remember it:

R: "Hello?"

P: "Where are you?"

R: "Peter? What do you mean where am I? I'm at home. I got tired of waiting for you."

P: "You never even showed up, what're you talking about?"

R: "We agreed to meet at the Promenade, remember?"

P: "No we didn't! We agreed to meet at my house and play it by ear!"

R: silence

P: "Ruthie!"

R: "Peter, we did so agree to meet at the Promenade! I can't believe you forgot!"

P: "I forgot…yeah, right. I think I have a better memory than you do."

R: "Ha, since when?"

P: "You know what, I've been waiting for half an hour, and I'm tired of waiting."

R: "Well apparently you forgot what TIME we were meeting, too!"

P: "How's that?"

R: "Because I waited for forty-five minutes before I came home an hour ago!"

P: "You're losing it, Ruthie."

(This is where it got good…)

R: "You know what? I think you're right! I AM losing it, because I've had it!"

P: "Had it with what? You're crazy."

R: "I've had it with YOU! I give and give and you give nothing!"

P: silence

R: "I'm always the one to do everything; I may as well be in a relationship with myself!"

P: "Ruthie, we're not married. You've been watching too many soap operas."

R: "I don't care if we're not married; we're still in a relationship!"

P: "Maybe I don't want to be in one with you anymore."

R: "Maybe I feel the same! I've just had enough, Peter. I'm through."

And then I hung up on him and ran up to my room crying. It doesn't matter how insensitive and obnoxious a guy is, it still hurts to feel like you're losing them. And Peter was being a total jerk. I had written down in my day planner right after I got off the phone with him the night before – Peter, Promenade, 12:00. But I wasn't even going to bother to mention that to him. He'd never believe me. It's his stubbornness that strained our relationship in the first place, and he certainly hasn't lost that about him in these past years.

So now I'm single. It feels kind of nice, kind of strange, kind of upsetting, and kind of relieving. But mostly it's just scary. What if I never have another boyfriend again? What a nightmare that would be! I guess it's possible, though. Ugh…

Cecilia tried to cheer me up, but it didn't help much. Looking at her made me think of when she and Martin were dating, and thinking of when she and Martin were dating made me think of Martin. That's when I started to feel guilty like maybe I'd broken up with Peter just because I thought I had even a teeny chance with Martin, which I don't. He practically has a family now. And even though he and Sandy don't get along particularly well, she's really pretty, a lot prettier than I am. And he's got a family to take care of now.

Okay, I'm going to be random now…I just flipped back a few pages and wrote "My First Entry" at the top of my first journal entry. Why did I do that? Has my subconscious mind decided that I'm going to actually write in this diary…drat, I mean journal…every day? I think not! I'm just writing because I'm upset. After that, I WILL put this cursed thing up on the shelf in my closet, pile a bunch of junk on top of it, and never write in it again – EVER!

Wait, phone's ringing. That could be Peter. I wonder what he's got to say this time…he's probably going to recite a bunch of lame apologies that he doesn't even –

Phone's for me, probably him, got to go. Maybe I'll write later or maybe I won't.

Ruthie Camden