May 26, 1982
12:40 A.M. THE DAY MY COVER RIPPED
Dear, dear book, I’m going through a phase aren’t’ I? Elaine gave me what was left over of her ounce and I just complete rolling 11 joints. It took me about an hour. I was so paranoid! I have six joints in my hiding place and 5 ½ in my pouch. Oh God! I hope Mary comes by school so I can give her two. Maybe I’ll give Camile one also. Maybe Sheila and maybe Melissa. I already gave Lynn two. I hate to drag people into this. They all actually don’t smoke pot. Oh, I hate the stuff. It was so lovely and so tempting for a while. But when I got up, I swear I felt high. But I think that is because I was nervous and everything. My mother’s tablecloth smells good now!! Oh, what sounds so beautiful is to have lots of pot and to smoke it with nothing to worry about, out by my pool (if I ever have one) on my own property, with friends, miles or acres from civilization. No one would barge on my land. I think every person should have these things. I can’t believe myself. Before my talk with you know who, I never would have touched the stuff. And on the Washington trip I really took off and left my scruples in my bookbag somewhere at Vail-Deane. But when I finally did come home, I didn’t leave my fantasies in Washington, I brought them home, and I’ve continued to live them out for the last 4 ½ weeks! Oh god, all I can think about is pot pot pot. I know it’s so wonderful, but only if we can enjoy it at our own disposal. And sex with pot, I bet, is great! But I do want a terrific man and what would he think of me if I didn’t these things? Ali was a sweetheart though. He was ashamed to show me that he had gotten high on the ski trip. I pushed him on the bed and got on top of him (or am I dreaming). We didn’t do anything, but everybody was observing. We should have gotten some pot from Larry and he could have taught me to smoke as we walked off somewhere. Oh, that would’ve. been great. But at 15, I wasn’t ready for anything, not sex and not drugs, alcohol yes, but I didn’t drink on the trip. But I sure was a trip myself. I did practice my smoking cigarettes on the trip because the play was the following week. Rhonda and Janie were really confused about me. I wasn’t happy with that though so I assured them I was a riot. I said I was high on life, and I walked around on my knees like I had no legs, and I said I had no legs. Something just wound me up! I was happy. And that was the best ski trip! The following year, I supplied the beer! Boy oh boy, I got worse and worse every year. But I assure you. I’ve been a good girl for nine months (no, I won’t get pregnant!) but until a month ago, I broke lose and explored! I really learned a lot too! Like my dear friend was telling me on Monday that she thinks she was born to just have a good time. Good times are the best but there’s only a time and a place for them. Oh, I wish I could light up a joint in school sometime. That’d be the best only if it were permissible though, and it’s not. Gee, maybe I’ll devote this whole notebook to drugs instead of my dear idol (my friend). I shudder to say the name now. I realize that there are a few personal things that I never wrote about – the Saturday night in Washington. Oh that was fun! I will definitely write about that one day. Oh, I did want to tell my “friend” about that! No, it wasn’t sex that I had for the first time. I’ll tell you that I am a virgin (for now). But Saturday night was one of the best nights of my life! You know, as I sit here, still engrossed in writing, as I haven’t at all been in two weeks, I must say that I haven’t written about my friend. I’ll say this much – she’s been pretty nice to me lately and I pray that it stay that way. I wrote her a 12-page letter last Tuesday in desperation, but I’m glad I never gave it to her. I put it with my memoirs. Oh well, maybe she’ll get all the stuff I wrote her one day. I hope so, only if she doesn’t mind, and only if my letters will increase any compassion for me. If not, they really serve no purpose in my interests. There’s more I want to write but suddenly I’m overcome with fatigue. It’s nice writing to you again and I’m sorry about the cover. Love, Trish. P.S. I thank God for paper and you for letter me tell you about how gross I felt when I had my period this weekend. It’s over now and it’s never given me such grief. I hope it never does. And by the way, Maria said today that she was going to ask her father if she could take a week off from work when she has her period. It doesn’t matter to me. I’m just hoping that this will never happen again after taking care of my body for just a short time. But the whole experience made me feel so feminine, so female, so prone, so vulnerable, so weak, so much in pain, so much deserving of the sympathy of a woman and a man. It was sort of nice but something I really have to keep to myself. Sometimes I feel so uncomfortable about the subject that I know I could never trust myself to have the ability to express myself. But what other girl doesn’t feel that way? Surely somebody! God, I’ll give anyone my sympathy – it’s just that no one wants it, but still I understand both situations, the wanting sympathy and the not wanting sympathy. I’ve felt both those ways with the same person including with different people. But the man’s sympathy I’d want would be from my husband, like John Lennon. Oh, I love him! And a female’s sympathy would be from a sister or someone like a sister, like you know who I wish was my sister. And I’m very generous with my sympathy. I want to help people. I love them.
2:20 P.M. - SPANISH CLASS
Oh dear book, there is something I want to write so badly that I know I’ll never finish. It’s not about drugs, it’s about my friend. I’d like to write it on a separate piece of paper, it doesn’t have to be a letter, maybe its an epistle, a message, something friendly, words of understanding is what it is and I would really like to give to my friend. She may keep it. It would not be a moving, teary-eyed thing, just something I would want her to understand about me, and all that is is that I do care and I do understand. I’ve heard some mean things about our English teacher. And last year I had a few mean things to say about English class, but for different reasons. Now, for some reason, some kids don’t like her. I do. I really do. I go so far as to criticize her teaching and I see where they are coming from, but I know enough not to judge a person. I’ll explain why. First of all, they are not thinking before they are talking and I strongly feel that I’d never agree with them and they couldn’t change my mind. I’ve come to the realization that my friend is a very very smart woman. Yes, she’s intelligent of course, but she is smart. She got good scores recently on her GRE’s which she was telling me about. And she also mentioned that she realized that she never studied and she really could have done things with her smarts (which maybe she doesn’t feel that she has accomplished as much as she could have). I know how she feels because I’ve thought about where I’m going with my grades. They are so bad but I know I can do so well.
Dear, dear book, I’m going through a phase aren’t’ I? Elaine gave me what was left over of her ounce and I just complete rolling 11 joints. It took me about an hour. I was so paranoid! I have six joints in my hiding place and 5 ½ in my pouch. Oh God! I hope Mary comes by school so I can give her two. Maybe I’ll give Camile one also. Maybe Sheila and maybe Melissa. I already gave Lynn two. I hate to drag people into this. They all actually don’t smoke pot. Oh, I hate the stuff. It was so lovely and so tempting for a while. But when I got up, I swear I felt high. But I think that is because I was nervous and everything. My mother’s tablecloth smells good now!! Oh, what sounds so beautiful is to have lots of pot and to smoke it with nothing to worry about, out by my pool (if I ever have one) on my own property, with friends, miles or acres from civilization. No one would barge on my land. I think every person should have these things. I can’t believe myself. Before my talk with you know who, I never would have touched the stuff. And on the Washington trip I really took off and left my scruples in my bookbag somewhere at Vail-Deane. But when I finally did come home, I didn’t leave my fantasies in Washington, I brought them home, and I’ve continued to live them out for the last 4 ½ weeks! Oh god, all I can think about is pot pot pot. I know it’s so wonderful, but only if we can enjoy it at our own disposal. And sex with pot, I bet, is great! But I do want a terrific man and what would he think of me if I didn’t these things? Ali was a sweetheart though. He was ashamed to show me that he had gotten high on the ski trip. I pushed him on the bed and got on top of him (or am I dreaming). We didn’t do anything, but everybody was observing. We should have gotten some pot from Larry and he could have taught me to smoke as we walked off somewhere. Oh, that would’ve. been great. But at 15, I wasn’t ready for anything, not sex and not drugs, alcohol yes, but I didn’t drink on the trip. But I sure was a trip myself. I did practice my smoking cigarettes on the trip because the play was the following week. Rhonda and Janie were really confused about me. I wasn’t happy with that though so I assured them I was a riot. I said I was high on life, and I walked around on my knees like I had no legs, and I said I had no legs. Something just wound me up! I was happy. And that was the best ski trip! The following year, I supplied the beer! Boy oh boy, I got worse and worse every year. But I assure you. I’ve been a good girl for nine months (no, I won’t get pregnant!) but until a month ago, I broke lose and explored! I really learned a lot too! Like my dear friend was telling me on Monday that she thinks she was born to just have a good time. Good times are the best but there’s only a time and a place for them. Oh, I wish I could light up a joint in school sometime. That’d be the best only if it were permissible though, and it’s not. Gee, maybe I’ll devote this whole notebook to drugs instead of my dear idol (my friend). I shudder to say the name now. I realize that there are a few personal things that I never wrote about – the Saturday night in Washington. Oh that was fun! I will definitely write about that one day. Oh, I did want to tell my “friend” about that! No, it wasn’t sex that I had for the first time. I’ll tell you that I am a virgin (for now). But Saturday night was one of the best nights of my life! You know, as I sit here, still engrossed in writing, as I haven’t at all been in two weeks, I must say that I haven’t written about my friend. I’ll say this much – she’s been pretty nice to me lately and I pray that it stay that way. I wrote her a 12-page letter last Tuesday in desperation, but I’m glad I never gave it to her. I put it with my memoirs. Oh well, maybe she’ll get all the stuff I wrote her one day. I hope so, only if she doesn’t mind, and only if my letters will increase any compassion for me. If not, they really serve no purpose in my interests. There’s more I want to write but suddenly I’m overcome with fatigue. It’s nice writing to you again and I’m sorry about the cover. Love, Trish. P.S. I thank God for paper and you for letter me tell you about how gross I felt when I had my period this weekend. It’s over now and it’s never given me such grief. I hope it never does. And by the way, Maria said today that she was going to ask her father if she could take a week off from work when she has her period. It doesn’t matter to me. I’m just hoping that this will never happen again after taking care of my body for just a short time. But the whole experience made me feel so feminine, so female, so prone, so vulnerable, so weak, so much in pain, so much deserving of the sympathy of a woman and a man. It was sort of nice but something I really have to keep to myself. Sometimes I feel so uncomfortable about the subject that I know I could never trust myself to have the ability to express myself. But what other girl doesn’t feel that way? Surely somebody! God, I’ll give anyone my sympathy – it’s just that no one wants it, but still I understand both situations, the wanting sympathy and the not wanting sympathy. I’ve felt both those ways with the same person including with different people. But the man’s sympathy I’d want would be from my husband, like John Lennon. Oh, I love him! And a female’s sympathy would be from a sister or someone like a sister, like you know who I wish was my sister. And I’m very generous with my sympathy. I want to help people. I love them.
2:20 P.M. - SPANISH CLASS
Oh dear book, there is something I want to write so badly that I know I’ll never finish. It’s not about drugs, it’s about my friend. I’d like to write it on a separate piece of paper, it doesn’t have to be a letter, maybe its an epistle, a message, something friendly, words of understanding is what it is and I would really like to give to my friend. She may keep it. It would not be a moving, teary-eyed thing, just something I would want her to understand about me, and all that is is that I do care and I do understand. I’ve heard some mean things about our English teacher. And last year I had a few mean things to say about English class, but for different reasons. Now, for some reason, some kids don’t like her. I do. I really do. I go so far as to criticize her teaching and I see where they are coming from, but I know enough not to judge a person. I’ll explain why. First of all, they are not thinking before they are talking and I strongly feel that I’d never agree with them and they couldn’t change my mind. I’ve come to the realization that my friend is a very very smart woman. Yes, she’s intelligent of course, but she is smart. She got good scores recently on her GRE’s which she was telling me about. And she also mentioned that she realized that she never studied and she really could have done things with her smarts (which maybe she doesn’t feel that she has accomplished as much as she could have). I know how she feels because I’ve thought about where I’m going with my grades. They are so bad but I know I can do so well.
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