D.I.A.R.Y
- blank page -
page 3.
I lost a mother, I lost a father, I lost a friend. In this short summer, I lost everyone.
I don't know how this is supposed to make me feel better about myself. "Write your thoughts down, keep a diary" – well boo-hoo. I feel like shit. And she's right, absolutely right. A part of me loves, no, delights in these horrible crimes we commit – burning bridges, wrecking cars – it's fun! (sigh) I'm a bad, bad boy who's going to Hell, aren't I? No. Purgatory, that's a finer place. At least, if you get there, means you still have some chance of getting out. The petty criminal, the wannabe killer – I just wasn't good enough.
Maybe, maybe if I'd stayed under my dad's wing a little longer… Who knows?
Who knows what would've become of me. Or my girlfriend. It seems the old sack liked her. Liked her enough like Lilly?
He hated me. Hated me. And now I'm supposed to be what, sad he's on trial? Sad the death sentence hangs over his head? I say they can't do it sooner. Do it already. Kill the bastard. He's nothing to me.
Why did he hate me? What did I do wrong? Am I different, too selfish, too unstable? I did take everything for granted. Acted like the king of Neptune High. I wasn't any better than my dad. And I know I deserve it. That Veronica won't speak to me. It's all my fault. But Duncan.
Duncan!
What did I ever…? What did I ever do to him? What? I slept with his bitch? Well he did the same to me. Is this about, is this about Lilly? My dad? Or, or is it about what happened before, what happened after. That I was the leader in our friendship, I was too dominant, I stifled him.
What if he hated me? What if the only reason we hung out was me being Aaron Echolls' son, incidentally, boy next door? What if Jake made him? What if Celeste baked those cookies he couldn't refuse?
"Now be nice to your new friend, Duncan. He'll come over in a bit, and I don't want you sulking. Smile! Now there's a good boy."
What if she said that?
...
page 5.
I haven't written anything in a while. I see that was a mistake. Mental images of Duncan and Veronica keep running through my mind. I'm sleeping badly. Jacking off doesn't help. I went to see the therapist.
She was busy.
To Hell with her. I'm sitting in my room and writing, in a corner, on the floor. My back rests against the side of my bed. Why am I still alive? There is no point. I'm just using up empty space, all that I do is harm. I hurt the people I love – I hurt mom, I hurt Duncan, I hurt Lilly, and I hurt Veronica.
Did I even love them?
Ten pills of /.../ are in my hand. Eight would be enough, but I want to make sure. I'm a sissy, I'm a coward, I'm my mother's son. But there's no way I'm going down a bridge. I wouldn't want fishermen to find me, all bloated in their nets.
Just so you know, I'm –
...
I didn't do it.
Again. Duncan stopped me. He dragged my ass off to bed, flung the pills down the drain. Doesn't he know what they cost me? Doesn't he know that I'd ordered beforehand? Special, surefire way to go – painlessly.
No, Duncan's right. I don't deserve that. For what I did, to him, to everybody, I deserve to ache. All the pain I can get. Bring it on me!
I asked him to punch me but he wouldn't. He wouldn't even…wouldn't even fuck. He called me a dirty manwhore. Brutal words were hurled at my head. I kissed his hands but he wouldn't have me. Tucked me in and left. Left! He's stronger now, who would've thought? Blue-eyed sailor Duncan, stronger than me. He yelled at me and left, said he couldn't stay.
I lost a friend.
Where did he go?
...
page 6.
Days passed by. And I can't tell reality from fantasy anymore.
I'm dead inside.
Veronica Mars.
She was the best thing that ever happened to me. And I threw it all away. And for some, sickly reason, Duncan hates me for it. I don't know – shouldn't the roles be reversed?
Dick invited some sophomores over to my place, girls from another school. One word: bo-ring. Their fake tits juggled in my hands, her spit all over me when she came. And I feel worse than before. Life is empty. How does he bear it? I mean, Dick. Sure he's boneheaded, but not that much. I hope.
I go to school, I put my game-face on, and every day I'm reminded of my dad – spending hours in front of the mirror so he looks pretty. So the bags under my eyes won't show. Powder, lots of foundation. Surprising how much product these actors use. You wouldn't guess unless you saw me apply it to my own cheeks. I never let anyone see.
Trina came home yesterday. We had a fight. It's sometimes scary how
nothing's changed.