August 13, 1993 (3:16 am)

Dear Diary,

It's Sunday night, well not really, I guess it's Monday morning. I've been staying up late these past few nights. I can't sleep. My body feels wired, like someone plugged me into the wrong outlet. The night is heavy and humid, the kind of heat that presses down until even the air feels sticky. Mom's old box fan keeps coughing in the corner, pushing around nothing but warm breath. 

I can't really seem to shut my thoughts, I keep replaying the events of Mark's party in my mind, even though it wasn't exactly wild. 

Yes, I did it. I finally went out to a party this weekend.

It felt nice. I even slept out at Parker's both nights. I felt a bit anxious when we first arrived, but it didn't take long to loosen up, especially since I knew that asshole wasn't going to be there. Parker had assured me that he left with Brewster and a few others to go camping up North. It was the basis of her whole argument to get me to come along.  I wondered if T̶a̶m̶m̶y̶ backstabber went with them, because I didn't see her at all that night either. I didn't dare ask anyone, I didn't want to get mad all over again.

Everyone seemed happy to see me, so that helped. Well, obviously not everyone, I didn't know every single person there, but there were many hugs regardless. 

Half the crowd was in the backyard, half crammed into the living room. 

Outside was loud and rambunctious. Pretty intense for the suburbs, but at least there was only one neighbour. The house was next to an expressway, the yard gated with tall wooden fence.  The in-ground pool was a nice perk, but I didn't go in. No way was I getting half naked in front of all those people. Mark even had a bartender working in the little shed they converted into a pool house. A wooden flap lifted up and secured to the ceiling to make a serving window and he put benches outside on the patio to trick people into thinking they were sitting at a real bar. But instead of drinks, when you went up to it, they were hot knifing some hash. Haha. 

Inside the house felt colder somehow, not in temperature but in mood. Lots of dark windows, a blue glow from the TV, a couple of guys hunched over a video game with their faces bleached ghost-white by the screen. The smell of pizza grease mixed with chlorine drifted in from the patio, and somebody's cheap cologne kept catching in my throat. Still, it looked more chill for sure. There was one table of kids playing cards. The music was loudly pumping over the chatter and game sound effects. 

Parker dragged me in first, grinning like she always does, and Min trailed behind us with a plastic cup of something neon. We shouted over the bass, though mostly we just nodded and smiled at people we barely knew. I kept noticing small things: the sticky deck boards under my sandals, a girl's hoop earrings flashing like lightning when she laughed, a Bulls cap turned backward on some guy's head. For a second it made my chest squeeze. Dylan used to wear one like that. I told myself it wasn't him. Of course it wasn't.

Most of the people were from my school, just a different crowd. Older. Graduates. I'm sure at least half who saw me thought about that fucked up day at school, but at least no one said anything. So yeah, it wasn't that bad, meaning I didn't feel too uncomfortable. Yet there is one thing I don't like about parties, being sober and trying to hold conversations with all the drunk people. It is funny, but I was very tempted to take a toke off one of the doobies I saw floating around. I didn't though, I knew I'd feel messed up if I did. I definitely steered clear of the hash. 

We didn't stay inside too long. Outside felt easier. Heat and chlorine wrapped around me like a damp blanket, but at least I could breathe. Parker kept nudging me toward the pool's edge, daring me to jump in with my clothes on. Min whispered about who was hooking up with who. I tried to care, but my thoughts kept drifting back to Dylan, back to the way he said my name like it meant something once.

We stayed out pretty late. Min had her dad's car so we were only allowed to stay out until midnight. I could have just slept over there, my parents probably would have never found out. I didn't. I got dropped off with Parker and we fell asleep listening to Alice in Chains.

Saturday I stayed with Parker again all day and night. She had some family stuff to do so I kept her company because I'm such a good friend. Ha. No, I am, I think. My parents didn't mind, I think they were just happy to see me out of my room.

Still, I don't know why I can't sleep. I've been lying here for an hour, staring at the ceiling, trying every trick—counting backwards, breathing slow—but my brain won't shut up. Finally I gave up, dragged you out, and started writing. I couldn't stand another second with all that stupid junk floating around in my head.

It always starts the same way. First I replay every dumb thing I said at the party. I'll think, did that make me sound like a bitch? or was that super lame? Great, now he totally thinks I'm a loser. Then I imagine rumors spreading, everyone secretly laughing when school starts again.

Yeah, I'm paranoid. I know it.

And of course his face shows up. Asshole. I can still see him swearing he never hooked up with her, claiming she lied. I remember how badly I wanted to believe him, how I wanted to hurt her for hurting me. Now I know the truth, and every time I picture him pleading with me not to listen, I want to smash that stupid face. Like I almost did that day at school when everything came out.

God, I was on a rampage. If she'd been there, who knows what I would've done. Maybe I should take up kickboxing or karate and actually learn how to throw a punch. I could've done some real damage instead of just slapping him around like a girl. How lame was that? Ugh. So embarrassing.

I've been trying to stay active, though. Figure-skating season ended in May, but Mom bought me rollerblades, so I skate when I can, but the August heat is brutal. Step outside during the day and the air sticks to your skin until breathing feels like work.

Only three weeks until school starts. I really, really don't want to go back. My plan is to ignore them completely. If I accidentally make eye contact, I'll roll my eyes or pretend to gag. I never want to hear either of their voices again.

Min says I should start dating someone new. Maybe I will. I kind of miss having a boyfriend. But now I'm the girl who kicked her boyfriend's ass. Who's going to sign up for that? At least I'm not the boy who got beat up by his girlfriend. That has to be worse. I wonder if he's as nervous about September as I am? Like I care.

I miss dancing. I miss being carefree, giggling, sneaking around the neighborhood at night belting out Pearl Jam songs. I miss camping, when the air smelled like smoke and everything felt endless.

My room feels like a tomb on nights like this. Like my room has swallowed me and is holding me prisoner and I can't break free. Purple walls closing in, posters watching me with silent judgment. The air-conditioning hums but can't touch the heaviness. I lie in the dark and wonder: will I ever be myself again? Or will this black mood stretch on forever? What will it take to lift this ashen veil wrapped around my heart? Who will breathe air back into my lungs?

My shadow self? Is she still alive? Do I dare find out?

Later.