I feel like running after him. Then walking to my next class I feel like another bit of me has died. I wonder when I’ll know the joy of love. All I’ve ever gotten is the pain of it. And it hurts sometimes to the point of being unbearable. Sometimes I think maybe I’m just lucky that I can love and feel the hurt also. There’s so much love in me I want to give away, but to who? Of course I love my parents and family, but there’s still a lot left over. No one wants it though. I wonder if they ever will. Oh sob! I’d break anyone’s heart wouldn’t I. Enough of the self pity bit. Sometimes I feel so evil and cruel. As though I were lieing to everyone, even myself. As if this good-goody type me were all a phony put-on. And I’m really a hypocrite and a creep. You see. When ever I get to close to finding out my mind always shuts the door in my face just as I’m getting it opened enough to see. I guess the truth is I just don’t want to. It frightens me, that door I mean. It has to be opened. No matter what it does to me. The hardest part though is facing it. But what the hell is it!
[unedited journal entry #2, February 9, 1975]