November 11th, 1980 – Tuesday – Veterans Day – No School

Last night I talked to Todd (a friend of mine from the ninth floor) for a real long time. He’s really nice. And funny as hell. He’s not the type that cracks jokes all the time – he just says funny, natural things. “He’s a natural!”


So anyway – we were drunk – well I was – he never seems to get drunk. We just talked and talked about all sorts of things. I told him how I was a burn-out in ninth grade and about getting into that car accident with FR. (and then going to some people’s house and stealing lots of pot – the same day I nearly died in that accident! What a derelict I was!) He couldn’t believe it. He didn’t think I was ever like that. I really shocked him.

He’s a neat guy. He’s 22 and I don’t feel any age difference between us at all. But then again, I never do with anybody. It is as though there is no space in age, between people that I am with – we kind of “flow” together. (”Wow, cosmic man!”). I’m 2 years older than Carol and we have never felt any difference in maturity or immaturity. JR. is 2 years older. And Doug is. And DC. is one year younger. I know that’s no big deal – or difference. But it seems as though when you’re younger you always hang around people your own age. I mean, in 9th and 10th grade. I’ve always hung around people who were older than me.

Todd says things to me that make me feel good about myself. Other people can say the same things but I don’t necessarily believe them or respect their opinion (aren’t I rotten?).

Like he’s told me that I am very mature. I don’t seem 18 at all and I’m not typically “freshman”. He says I seem to adjust very well and I’ve got a good head on my shoulders. And he also said that I’m independent.

Now I feel good. Someone as mature and intelligent as him said that about me. Me – the girl who doesn’t have much self-esteem or self-confidence.

I guess I should go on an all-out ego trip here. I wanna analyze some things that people have said about me.

Last week Craig tried explaining something to me – something about seeing girls. In the process he was telling me what he liked about me. He said that he thinks I’m intelligent. “I don’t know about schoolwork and technical facts and stuff, but about life and people.” He says I have a good head on my shoulders (again!), and I’ve got my shit together. And I’m very attractive.

Now Ryan. Great guy – we’re really good friends – said that I have a certain “air” about me. I’m “sophisticated” and more mature than girls my age.

Now, I can’t figure it out. All during high school I got shit all the time. People said I was screwed up in the head. No – I was told I was fucked up – I “had problems”. I was an asshole or a slut. And the best one was that I was a suicide case. Isn’t that a nice thing to say to someone?

People in high school are total assholes. All those dumb cliques. Everyone wore masks and tried to be people they weren’t. Pretty good actors. Oh, I hate to say it, but I was caught up in that masquerade, too. What a fool I was. I actually worried about what people would think or say about me. That was dumb – they were so busy trying to identify themselves, why should I care what they thought of me. God! High school – or our teenage years – is a massive case of identity crises!

But what does that have to do with what I was saying before? I drifted again.

How are things so different here? Why do people accept me differently? I’m well-liked. I’m seen in such a different perspective. Different – I use that word a lot. It’s vague though. Tough – it;s the only one I feel like using!

I wonder how Popper sees me. I think that he use to see me as insecure, dumb, and a baby. But I have a feeling that he doesn’t feel that way anymore – or at least not as much. I think he thinks that I have slipped a little bit out of reach. I bet he’s scared that I’ve grown up and I’m very independent: I won’t need him as much.Well, to a certain extent I have grown up and become more independent, less insecure, more self-confident, and etc. But I know that as soon as I’m back in his arms I’ll be a little baby again!! But, I do want him to realize that even though I am still his baby, I have changed too. I hope he can accept that. I don’t want him to become angry and frustrated by it. I know that when I talk about all the great things I do here, he gets angry and it hurts him. He is so scared of losing me. I tell him not to worry, but it is so hard to convince him.

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