November 1991

I don't think I like drinking. It's nothing compared to smoking pot. There's something very peaceful in smoking.

Everyone went to Tracy's. The whole group was there. I was slightly buzzed and Lisa and Rachel bugged me about my drinking. I got annoyed. Bryan and I were bonding. I kind of wanted him. Afterward Marcelo, Lisa, Bryan, and I went to the Bistro. Bryan and I danced together.

Contemplated suicide. Wanted to drop out of school. I just can't believe that I still get this way.

I think I'm a child.

Melisa and I tripped today. We sat in my car for what felt like hours and laughed like idiots. We tried to go to I-Hop but were too dosed to handle it, so we left. I thought my high was gone, but when I went home and tried to sleep I couldn't stop thinking. I thought I'd gone crazy. I wanted to cry. I was freaking out. It was awful. Never again! I am never tripping again. Never!

Dad drank. We fought.

If I miss Beginning Drawing one more time I'm out. On the other hand my conference with my English teacher went well. My instructor likes the way I write. She says that there's a certain kind of character in my writing she's never seen anywhere else. Suicide's been on my mind. Santi has called and although it's good to talk to him I do not call him back. I don't know what it is I want. I'll be fine. Maggie's back in town because she dropped out of school. While I was doing homework I suddenly felt inspired. I felt hope. The powers of the universe let me know that things will get better. I believe I have the power to make things better in my life.

At the fabric store I heard a couple speaking Farsi and talked to them. Rachel suggests I get counseling for my depression.

My depression is a monster that comes and goes as it pleases.

At school I bullshit my way through tests.

My Beginning Drawing instructor asked for a cigarette and invited me into his office to smoke with him. Unfortunately I didn't sense anything sexual.

Big depression. Thoughts and thoughts. It's a cyclical thing. Round and round. This is not high school, it's the rest of my life I'm playing with. I don't think I could explain this to anyone. I'm going through it alone. I have so much to say to my parents but don't want to hurt their feelings. So much to say to everyone. I have no control anymore.

My friends and I got up at five in the morning. We gathered in front of an abortion clinic to protest against a Christian group who call themselves Operation Rescue and block people from getting in and out the clinics. There was a lot of shouting back and forth out there in the cold rain. I felt sorry for the Christians. I wished that I wasn't there. Later in the afternoon, my friends got together for a small Thanksgiving meal. I pulled Lisa, who's been struggling with her own depression, into the bathroom and told her that I want to kill myself. Then I felt better. Of course I'd had a glass of wine or four. I was just buzzed. Nothing can make me totally happy.

Dad yelled and called me names.

Why am I like this again? I wish that I'd stop saying I'm going to kill myself. It's like I'm fifteen again. Why am I like this again? Feeling hopeless.

Kelly and I read our writing at No Exit's open mic night.

It's all in my thinking, I know it. I'm tired of daydreaming. I feel like calling mom and crying to her, telling her everything, but she's got more important things to worry about. Tonight I really wanted to apologize to dad and talk to him. We haven't spoken in days. I know he hates me and has a right to. He calls me names in Assyrian, insults you'd direct at women. Like "whore". It doesn't hurt that much. At least not right away. I'm adjusting to all of this and that's a bad thing. O.k. enough analyzing for now. I wish I felt sleepy.