Dear Diary
Today I am writing in a diary labeled 1994, because to my mother, 1994 was the year her son turned into a cigarette smoking criminal, that frequently snuck out of the apartment to buy Winstons at a machine inside the Dennys restaurant. The cigarette machine was next to two pay phones, along with the restrooms on the opposite side. The problem with getting the smokes was that it was directly in the eyeline of the front register where waitresses lingered to seat people or run the register. I had a whole system of pretending to call someone on the pay phone and then slipping in one quarter at a time without them growing wise. It was a seven minute operation, talking nonsense and waving my arms with the phone cradled to my ear- I was even more animated when someone walked by- I would slam the phone down, as if I had just finished telling someone off. Then I would shake my head, sigh and then make another phone call- but collect since I couldn’t really spend the quarters I needed for smokes.
Boy oh boy that 14 year old must have hung up on someone important! Like a school counselor or the guy in charge of paper routes.
To my mom the diary was a good distraction because I would put off my friends to go, "write in my diary" Little did she know, that was code for "meet up with friends" or " find a way to get arrested", but she thought I just liked to write outside among nature- around 11 ‘o clock at night.
I used to walk in at 2am and my mom would emerge from the dark with the squinty "what have you been up to" look on her face, but then she’d immediately relax when she saw that the thing that I was hiding behind my back was not a joint, just the stupid diary. I’d give her a sheepish look like, "I couldn’t help it- inspiration took over!"
15 years later and I finally decide to give it a go…for you mom! This diary is so stupid- you get one page to write per day- I already wasted five days writing about this, you can’t fit a whole fucking entry on one page- BOY DOES TIME FLY when I’m writing an entry- I started on Tuesday and now we’re coming up to Monday already!
I can’t imagine what this diary would be like if I actually wrote back then. Full of painful embarrassing truths that I’d rather forget.
Dear Diary,
today I jerked off four times, twice at school and pissed in the orchestra pit on a dare. I played tackle football in the snow, tried talking to a higher life form, but she wanted nothing to do with me, and then me and my friends drove to the mall for lunch because we’re losers. I ditched 5th period and took a drive with a girl I hardly know- she’s pretty but with some major BO-go figure-I smoked up with her, and then I wandered the halls of the school until my high wore off. I got home, talked back to my mom and threw a chair across the room when she told me I couldn’t have a friend spend the night. I prank called Courtney because she wouldn’t talk to me and I think she was actually frightened by it. At least she didn’t know it was me. Tomorrow I’ll be an even bigger loser, and that won’t stop me from having to go to classes where none of my friends are and sleep is forbidden.
It’s ugly ma. These things come locked for a reason.