1 January 1612
Today was such a fun day! Sigmun and Simonn and I went skating (that's what we call it, even though none of us can afford skates), and the river was almost entirely frozen over! When it's like that, besides the fact that we have to keep moving to stay warm, we can skate over this huge expanse of ice and it's just a lot of fun. And I think a new year is a day to celebrate, because it's like starting over from a place that maybe wasn't so good and then going somewhere new. I want to be somewhere new by the end of the year.
We didn't study today. Simonn said he can only come over today and tomorrow and maybe the next day, but then it's Epiphany and he's got to celebrate that with his family. Mother usually makes a cake for Epiphany (I hope I'm spelling it right), but she only makes me stay home for dinner, so it's not too bad.
I sometimes wonder why there are three kings, and why they all have light skin in pictures. People who live in Africa usually have dark skin, I think, so shouldn't the three kings have dark skin? And I think that there should've been at least one queen. I think Mary would've appreciated a sympathetic friend, instead of incense. It just seems strange to me.
Anyways, we went skating and then, when it started snowing, we climbed the big pine tree in the clearing as high as we could and just sat and watched the snow fall. I love watching snow tumble from the clouds, because you can't quite see where it's coming from. I like to imagine that angels make snowflakes when they're bored and toss them to Earth for us to enjoy. I know that's not true, but I'd like to think so.
Sigmun looks so nice with snowflakes in his hair and eyelashes. I just love him so much! And that smile he has, that bright, wide smile, it lights up his whole face and makes me feel like I'm flying. I wonder if he could tell I was staring? I certainly hope not.
I almost forgot! I tried to write a poem today, but it didn't turn out so well, so I'm not going to put it here. I tried something called a sonnet and it just sounded all wrong, so I threw it in the fire. I'll come up with something better tomorrow.
2 January 1612
Is it possible that I'm just really bad at poetry? I tried again today. I tried to write about trees, because poets write about nature, but it didn't turn out so well. I wonder if I could write about the snow, about watching it fall and the glistening flakes landing in Sigmun's hair and catching in the pine needles and decorating the whole world. I suppose it's worth a try.
But that's a task for another day. Today, we skipped studying again in favor of playing in the woods. Sigmun and Simonn talked me into climbing to the treetops and jumping around. It was dangerous and probably very stupid, but also…its was fun and I felt this rush of energy surge through my whole body and I loved it. None of us got hurt, luckily, and of course the old callouses on my hands and feet protected me from scrapes. Winter boots make it hard to climb trees, but we managed. And there's nothing in the world I'd rather do than spend time with my best friends.
3 January 1612
Dolora told me that tomorrow, she'll help me brush my hair. She tells me things like this so it's clear she's telling more than asking, but I know she worried about the fact that I can't brush my hair on my own. There's just too much hair; it's a practical matter. Maybe what I mean is that she worries because Mother doesn't care enough to help.
We read another chapter of the novel today and I think adventure is my second-favorite genre, just after romance. And I like this book, with all the symbolism and beautiful description and complicated characters. It seems like they're real people and I think that's why I love novels; it's a whole world in just the thin pages of a book.
4 January 1612
That was a task. Dolora had me sit in a chair like always and she did the right side of my hair and I did what I could with the left (because I use my right hand for most things). I'm glad Simonn and Sigmun left to check on the garden and the herb patches in the woods because I think I'd faint if Sigmun helped me brush my hair because I'm sure he'd be all gentle like he is and he'd tell me I have nice hair and I wouldn't be able to take that because I know he means it as a platonic compliment and I don't want to give myself false hope.
So now my hair is reasonably brushed-out, the point where Mother asked me if I'd used hair thinner without asking her and got very upset. I really like having smooth hair and I wish I didn't have to spend hours brushing it out. I wonder what it would feel like to have Sigmun touching my hair if he loved me. I bet it would feel wonderful and I bet he'd be all gentle and tender like he is and I bet he'd be nice about my hair even though it is admittedly rather thick and ugly and not the pretty color of brown Mariek or Hannah has. My mind wanders to things like this all the time and I can't help but wonder what it would be like if Sigmun loved me.
It'd be nice.
6 January 1612
I had another nightmare and I don't know why. In this one, Sigmun did love me and as far as I could tell, it was my usual swimming dream. But then my skirt got heavy and I couldn't seem to keep myself afloat so I tried to grab onto Sigmun, but he shoved me away and said, "You're so stupid! What, did you think anyone could ever love you? You?" My head went underwater and I couldn't breathe and everything went all distorted and I tried to swim for the surface, but Sigmun held my head underwater and I looked up, like I was going to say something to him or maybe just catch a glimpse of the sun, but everything was pitch black and I was terrified. I tried and tried to breathe, but I couldn't. All I could hear was rushing water and Sigmun laughing at me and someone screaming and then I woke up and I realized I'd been screaming and Mother was yelling at me.
I don't know why I had that nightmare and I wish I could stop thinking about it. I know that even though Sigmun doesn't love me (he can't), he's my friend and he wouldn't do something that horrible, anyways. I was pretty jumpy today because I didn't get back to sleep and I wasn't tired because that nightmare made me so stressed. I don't know what I'd do if I started drowning for real, either.
Today was Epiphany (oh joy). Mother made that cake and I avoided her most of the day by reading more poetry at Sigmun and Dolora's house. The cake wasn't half bad, but Mother forgot to put the almond in again and she got mad at me for it. I wasn't even in the house when she baked the cake and she's blaming me. How does that make sense?
7 January 1612
I hate that the nightmare is still occupying my thoughts. It's ridiculous. I trust my friends and I know Sigmun would never be like that. He doesn't lie, he doesn't hurt people, and he'd never purposefully drown someone. Never. I firmly believe it. But I feel tense and I can tell I've been irritable towards my friends. I wish I could talk to someone without feeling this heavy guilt and shame. Simonn and Sigmun talk so freely about things and I wish I could do that.
I don't think I wish for much, really. I wish for love, and for someone to talk to, and for maybe a little less shame. I wish for women and people with dark skin to be allowed to do the things men with light skin can do. I wish for people to treat everyone the same. I wish I could be allowed to choose who touches me.
Maybe that is too much to wish for.
We read the next chapter of the novel. Right now, the hero is fighting the villain on a mountain and the villain has the hero pinned on the edge of a cliff. Of course they're both men. But I quite like the book anyways.
8 January 1612
We got back to studying today. Simonn talked us into reading that physics book he likes so much and I didn't fall asleep at all. I think I actually understood some of it this time. The overall force on something is connected to how hard you push it. I don't know why the man who wrote the book felt the need to write that down; everyone knows that. Maybe it's because he came up with the numbers to count it exactly? The point is, I'm not quite as lost as I was and I'm certainly glad for that.
I've taken to daydreaming during dinner when Mother's nagging and I usually let my mind drift to a little dream world with Sigmun and me and sometimes my other friends, a world where it never storms hard enough to break houses and mothers and fathers love their children and my love loves me back and I don't feel so lonely.
9 January 1612
I went to run errands today and I've never hated the market so much. I'm sick of men calling me sweetheart and sugar and then shouting names like bitch and whore when I walk away with my head down and my stomach in knots. It makes me want to cry because I just don't want them touching me and I didn't think that was so wrong but now I do. Is it wrong that I don't like this sort of thing? I know I'm supposed to be flattered, even flirtatious back. But I feel uncomfortable, and upset, and even a little angry. What I do feel and what I'm supposed to feel don't match up. They never have and I doubt they ever will. I'm not even sure what I'm supposed to feel sometimes.
We read some poetry today and I liked it a lot. I like poetry because sometimes it just speaks right to your soul, without stopping at your mind. My soul remembers things better than my mind sometimes and anyways, I just can't always trust my mind these days.
10 January 1612
I met my girl friends in the market today in the afternoon and we just talked things over like we do. Neolla's application for Yangsley's was accepted under the name Nelson Redglare. Mariek's mother is ill, possibly with consumption, and she won't admit it. Mariek said she's going to start sneaking medicine into her mother's food because her mother won't listen to anyone who says she's ill. Candas came to the village today, and she's fighting for her spot as heir to the throne with a second cousin once removed in Russia she never knew she had. Hannah's the same as ever, except her father is trying to set her up to marry a forty-year-old man from…Austria? Or maybe Hungary? The point is that she's met him once and he doesn't speak our language. It doesn't really surprise me. Hannah's father is always rather grumpy and I think it's because Hannah has two sisters (one older and one younger) and no brothers. A lot of my friends have lots of sisters and it makes me sad to think that their parents don't love them just because of that.
At any rate, we just talked about things for a while and helped Neolla practice her voice for Yangsley's and gossiped about the other girls (I know it's not nice to gossip, but…) and played this little game we have where one of us describes something or someone as subjectively and poorly as we can and the others guess it. I didn't do so well at guessing, but I did pretty well with describing because I described the river and no one got it.
12 January 1612
I had a dream last night and I don't remember what it was about but when I woke up, I was afraid.
Mother tried to give me all these criticisms about my hair and my face and my body and my clothes. At least she doesn't make me wear makeup. I don't like how it feels, all sticky and thick and toxic. I just feel like it's toxic; is that odd? Anyways, I know Mariek and Hannah quite like makeup and I can't fault them for that. I think it's just your choice.
We studied a chapter of the novel today and Simonn said that why did good always have to beat evil, couldn't it be the other way around to mix it up? And Sigmun said good has to beat evil, or else we'll lose hope for humanity. And I said that good beats evil because it's a book and we want good to win to make us believe that good can win because in real life, evil does win a lot.
I don't at all mind good beating evil in books because evil seems to have long since won in real life.
13 January 1612
I'm afraid he'll figure out I love him, pretend to love me back, and then break my heart. I know it's irrational, because he's kind and he wouldn't do something like that and he's my best friend. But I just…people outside my friends always seem like they have fun hurting me and I'm just scared of getting my heart broken.
14 January 1612
There was a horrible snowstorm today and Dolora scolded me for walking the mile to her house in the driving snow. I know it's because she cares. Mother didn't even notice I left.
Actually, Mother spent a good deal of time "advising" me on what I should be doing with my time, and evidently it's not "try to get some sort of education" or "let those awful friends lead you astray" or "be with those boys". Boys aren't bad by nature and I don't know why Mother says they are. Some of them aren't kind, but then some girls aren't kind, either. Like Mother.
15 January 1612
Sigmun seemed anxious today and I think he had some sort of nightmare because he kept jumping at seemingly random things; the sound of a book being dropped, when I set down my cup and it clicked against Simonn's, the shelf that's full of books with red covers. I know all too well that weird dreams can make you jumpy about all sorts of things. I hope he's alright.
We studied Russian today, and some history too. The verb conjugations aren't so hard for me, and the irregulars aren't so bad to memorize. Simonn's struggling, but he always has trouble with languages.
16 January 1612
I feel so lonely some days. I know there are people who love me, and people who apparently like my company (though heaven knows why), but…
I suppose it's like this. If I'd never been born, who would care? Not my parents, birth or adoptive. Simonn and Sigmun would have each other and Dolora. Neolla and Mariek and Hannah and my other village friends would have each other. Grantt and Orvill and Candas, the same. The giggly girls in the village wouldn't care. Others in the village wouldn't give a damn. I don't mean anything to anyone. Sometimes I think they wouldn't notice if I died.
We studied the novel and the heroine has just been saved and I can't help but wonder: what if she didn't want to be rescued?
18 January 1612
We did physics today from that books by…Newton! That's his name. But I don't remember the title anymore. It's Simonn's favorite book. (Mine is Lost at Sea and Sigmun's is Last Words.)
I walked in and they were having this whispered conversation upstairs and Dolora smiled like she knew what was going on and I just think that there's a secret being kept from me, or at least like they don't want me around. No one wants me around.
It's rather disheartening.
19 January 1612
This is going to sound silly, but today when Simonn was reading and I was half-asleep (I had another nightmare), I heard Sigmun stand up and say he was going to get a glass of water, so of course what did I do but try to sit up and end up rolling off the couch? I crashed on the ground on my back and I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach for some reason. And of course I felt completely stupid because I'd just managed to fall off a couch and completely lose my breath and Sigmun was watching.
Simonn snorted into the book he was reading (we studied some history today) and covered his mouth like he does when he's trying not to laugh. But Sigmun held out his hand to help me up and I took it and he pulled me to standing and I didn't want to let go of his hand, but I kind of had to. So I sat back down on the couch and Sigmun went to get his glass of water and Simonn gave me another one of those raised-eyebrow looks and I gave him another glare. He just helped me up, like a friend would. It's not his fault that when he smiled that beautiful smile that doesn't quite fit on his face in the best way, his eyes flashed crimson and my mind melted because he has the best smile. I'm sure I blushed, which is silly because I've spent pretty much every day with him since I was seven and there is absolutely no reason to be flustered over him helping me up, none at all. There's no reason to get nervous that his hand was warm and a little bit sweaty and his grip was tight and I could feel his hand shaking just a bit and his face looked a little flushed and…he's just very good looking.
I don't know why his face was flushed like that, either. Why would he be flustered about just helping me up? Why would he be at all nervous about something like that? And why would he not want to let go of my hand? I could feel reluctance in his grip and I just don't know why he'd want to hold my hand. Why would he want to spend time with me?
And now I've analyzed this single, stupid moment in time to bits and I've extracted every possible lack of meaning from the few minutes it took for me to fall off a couch and my best friend to help me up. I'd like to rationalize everything by saying that he loves me, but that can't be. It just can't be.
20 January 1612
I heard this whispered conversation today between Sigmun and Simonn and I'm…I'm just really upset that they're keeping secrets from me. I only heard a few words.
"…staring at you."
"Was not!"
"Look, I don't know if you've lost a good chunk of your mind since turning sixteen, but…" Then I couldn't hear for a little.
I heard just a couple more things. "…completely obvious, it's like a glass window in the palace."
"Shut up." Pause. "Swear you won't tell?"
"Haven't I every single damn time we have this stupid conversation?"
"Just swear it."
"I promise."
So I guess they're keeping some secret they talk about sometimes. I don't expect them to tell me everything, but it's just kind of upsetting that I'm the odd one out again. I feel like even Dolora knows. I suppose they'll probably tell me at some point. I've always told them my secrets. (Except that I haven't told Sigmun I love him, but that's different. Very, very different.) Anyways, I remember that last time something like this happened, it turned out Simonn was planning revenge on me for pushing him into the river once (I was twelve).
Oh, and we studied Austrian history today. I found it somewhere between learning Russian and practicing geometry in terms of interest.
21 January 1612
I had another nightmare last night. It was almost the same as the one from before, with the drowning. When my skirt started to feel heavy, I clung to Sigmun like last time, but he said, "You're pathetic! Absolutely pathetic! Did you think you deserved love? You?" And I wanted to cry because I don't think I deserve love, but that doesn't mean I don't want it. And then there was this huge crack of thunder and a storm started and the river was rollicking like the ocean and I started drowning and I didn't bother to try to swim up but I could feel his hands holding me underwater and I couldn't breathe and I woke up breathing like I'd run twenty miles. I don't know why it was different, and I don't know why I dreamed it again, and I don't know why I'm even having these nightmares in the first place. I hate them, more than I've ever hated anything in my life. I don't like hating things, but I absolutely despise these nightmares.
We studied medical science today, and though I don't like looking at drawings of the insides of dead people, it was rather interesting. I suppose things can be interesting, even if I don't particularly like them myself.
22 January 1612
I was very shaken today because my nightmare last night was one of the worst I've ever had. It didn't even make sense, except that it focused on one of my worst fears.
In the dream, I was going to tell him I love him. I was sure it was real, in the dream, even more than I normally am. I was just going to go up to him and tell him and kiss him like Simonn said I should. So I was talking to him, and I said, "Sigmun, I love you." And I thought it would turn out alright! If he didn't love me that way, I could tell him I meant it platonically. But he didn't.
First, he laughed, and I was confused. Then he shoved me away, which hurt a good deal, and he said, "I hate you! I hate everything about you!" His face contorted from laughter to rage. "Did you really think I would ever love you? You're ugly, and you're stupid and shallow and cowardly and useless and weak and bad at everything! You're awful and mean and I hate you!" And then Simonn was there, laughing at how stupid I'd been to take his advice, and I couldn't stand up, and then I woke up and I realized I was fighting my blanket like my worst enemy. Then I realized I was crying. At least I wasn't screaming.
I don't know why I've been having so many more nightmares lately. I know nightmares happen when you're upset about something in real life, and I can't think of anything I'm upset about besides that my friends are keeping secrets from me and the fact that I'm unloved and that I'm even having these nightmares in the first place.
Does that count as stress?
Anyways, we studied some German history today and I liked it a good deal better than medical science.
23 January 1612
No nightmares last night, thank heaven. I've been admittedly ruder than usual to Mother because she's mad about my lack of self-grooming. I think I'm keeping myself in fine shape: I bathe four times a year, I change my clothes every day, I brush my hair properly once in a while and finger-brush it every day, I eat and drink enough to feel full, and I generally keep myself looking fine. But Mother wants me to wear makeup because I have a year and a half to find a "suitable husband". I don't like makeup! I just don't. I don't care even if Sigmun would think I'm pretty (or at least less ugly) with it on. I dress and keep clean for myself, no one else. We got into an argument about it, actually.
"I'm not going to wear makeup!"
"Why not? You'll look a bit less respectable with it on!"
"I thought that it made me look like a prostitute?"
"When you were fourteen, you useless child!"
"Oh, and it's all so different now!"
"Yes it is! Put that makeup on right now or so help me—"
"I won't!"
"Fine! Go around looking like a pathetic, ugly, useless slave!"
"Now who's being sarcastic?"
"GO TO YOUR ROOM!"
"FINE!" I ran upstairs and slammed my door and I wanted to never leave again.
We studied Russian and we have most of the verb conjugations down pat. I think I'll be able to do sentences soon. I certainly hope so! I think Russian will be a fun language to speak.
24 January 1612
I can't stop thinking about how it would feel to kiss him. I wonder if his skin is soft and smooth, or calloused and rough from cold, or warm with a little stubble like men's faces are when they start growing up. (Sigmun and Simonn both have some hair on their faces and I find that rather handsome.) I wonder if he would touch my hair, or even thread his fingers through it the way I long to do with his. I wonder how that messy, almond-colored hair of his feels, if it's like the late autumn leaves whose color it so resembles, or thick and warm and a little soft, or smooth and silky and lovely like I imagine. I wonder how his body would feel pressed against mine that way. I bet he'd feel like something between the warmth of the fire and the comfort of a nice summer rain, and maybe a little bit of the exhilaration of lightning. I bet he'd feel wonderful.
If he ever does kiss me, either because I'm the only girl around or for practice kissing (I'm sure it's one of those things you have to practice), what would I do? I'd want to press my lips to his as had as I can and feel his hair between my fingers and wrap my arms around his shoulders. I'd want to kiss him the way you kiss someone when you love them with all your heart. But I don't think I'd want to do that to him, because he'd want to kiss me the way you kiss someone on a dare.
We studied physics today and I'm even less lost this time and I'm very proud of that. I may have actually accomplished something for once in my life.
25 January 1612
Russian today. I got a simple sentence right and I helped Sigmun and Simonn understand it. I never really meant to stare at Sigmun while he was crafting his letters so nicely, but I did and he looked up suddenly and I hope he didn't notice the awful blush rebelling against my wishes by turning my face bright red. If I didn't know better, I'd say he was blushing, too. Simonn caught my eye and mouthed, "Just tell him already!" I just glared at him and mouthed, "I will!" He rolled his eyes and gave up, for the time being. I just can't tell him yet; I'm too afraid.
27 January 1612
I had that nightmare again. In the beginning, Simonn was there too, but then he left and Sigmun and I were swimming around and he told me he loved me and I told him I loved him and I kissed him and everything felt happy and light and wonderful. But then I couldn't seem to stay afloat and I slipped away from him and then he grabbed my arm and dug his nails into my skin and hissed, "You stupid bitch! You really think love is real? It's not! It never has been!" And he shoved my head under and I couldn't breathe and I woke up and I was crying silently.
We studied chemistry today. It wasn't really that memorable.
Oh, and I found my baby blanket. It was under my bed somehow. I wonder how that happened? Anyways, it's old and dusty and ratty, but it still feels like it did when I was three and Mother tried to make me give it up the first time. I guess she never knew I hid it to make her think I'd listened. Back when I listened to her…
I'm keeping it. I'm sixteen years old and I'm keeping my baby blanket.
28 January 1612
I came over and Simonn and Sigmun were whispering like a couple of nine-year-olds again and I'm just getting upset because every time I come over, they give me this look like I'm the kid who keeps interrupting her older sibling's friends. I thought we were friends! I'm pretty sure friends don't look at friends like that.
Oh, and Mother yelled at me about my ugly face today. I endured it for a while before I couldn't hold back crying anymore and I ran to my room and slammed the door. I hate her sometimes. I hate, hate, hate her for what she does to me. I seem to remember liking myself when I was little and I know that was silly, because I'm not someone worth liking, but I felt better about things then. At least, I think I did.
30 January 1612
Mother screamed at me today because I don't wear makeup and we had an argument about it.
"I don't want to wear makeup!"
"You're hopeless, absolutely hopeless! Just put on some damn makeup!"
"No!"
"You're not leaving the house without some on!" She blocked the door and I had no choice but to put some of that goop on. I smeared it on the way I know Mother thinks I should and ran past Mother and all the way to Sigmun and Dolora's and I was trying so hard not to cry, but I couldn't help it after so long. Once I got there, my only place of safety, I ran past them whispering and I started scrubbing my face with water and a washcloth because it's not fair and I don't like makeup and I gave into Mother and…I don't know.
"Dianna? What's going on?" Sigmun called.
"Nothing."
"Liar," Simonn said.
"It's just…it's just some makeup." I kept scrubbing my face raw. The water in the wash basin was almost completely white, a little pink from the rouge. I checked my face in the mirror and I couldn't tell if it was all gone, so I rubbed some more.
Sigmun wandered in and said, "But you never wear makeup; you said you hate it."
"Yeah, well, Mother thinks I should." I didn't want him to see my raw, red, makeup-stained face, so I turned away and stared down at the wash basin.
"Since when have you ever let her be in charge of your life?" Sigmun asked, and I could tell he was trying to be encouraging, reminding me that Mother never has ruled my life.
"She said I couldn't leave the house without makeup on, okay?"
"Oh. Want any help?"
"I'm fine."
"Alright." But he didn't leave. Simonn wandered into the kitchen too, and they sat there and made small talk while I scrubbed my face.
"I think your face is probably clean," Simonn said after a while. "I think that red is probably because you've scrubbed off a layer of skin or seven."
"I don't want any of that stuff on my face."
"Fair enough," Sigmun said. "But I think you've probably got it off."
I sighed, because my face still felt dirty, but they were right and anyways, it was starting to hurt. I mean, it hurt from the start, but a lot of things hurt and I'm used to it. "Fine. Let's read a novel today, alright?"
"Alright," Sigmun agreed. Simonn just nodded.
Mother didn't notice my lack of makeup because she was drinking again at dinner. I sat quiet as a mouse while she drank and yelled and talked about her stupid adoptive daughter, the useless girl, who was resisting every attempt to be made more marriable. I wish there was someone who loved me the way I think a mother ought to.