Once Rae read my Hello Kitty diary. It had a lock on it, but one could easily pick it with a bobbypin. I was ten and she was well on her way into high school at the time. The shadows from the spinning ceiling fan gleamed off her mouth full of metal as she read the last entry aloud. She laughed as she repeatedly yelled the forbidden crush's name so loudly that I feared mom and dad would hear (I wasn't sure if I was allowed to like boys, and if that were true, I might've gotten in trouble). She towered over me as I tried to snatch it from her, but my small frame was no match for her lengthy model figure. She stood on the bed with her arm raised, nearly shredding Hello Kitty to bits.
I think this was the moment I knew I could not share anything without being ridiculed. But I was ten. That summer I turned eleven and everything changed. Notebook after notebook, I'd fill it with all my thoughts, memories, and secrets. If I found you worthy enough, I'd let you peak into that part of my life. If I found your worthy, I just might let you sign my purple composition slam book.
But some I thought were worthy were definitely not. Writing shared was meant just for that-- to be shared. Some people had other ideas. Once Mrs. L confiscated my slam book. Someone wrote something horrible about Mia. Of course, I took responsibility. After all I was the keeper of the slam book. The most heartbreaking part was seeing Mia's eyes well up with tears. She was my friend and I really liked her. My parents were called into school for an intervention meeting, and I had the biggest lecture about bullying.
I don't recall ever apologizing to Mia. At eleven, I don't think I knew how. Things were never the same after that. I went home that day wanting to rid the shame, and I threw away all my journals-- years of writing in the trash. The first basketball game I cheered for, the team ended the night at Wendy's. My crush said hi to me that night. I broke the tip off the beige frosty spoon and taped it to that page. Wendy's engraved, plastic face smiled back in that entry-- in the trash. Pouring my heart out over Devon Sawa, explaining how Im so much better than Christina Ricci-- in the trash. The entry about the day our teacher was out sick so our class went to the library and wrote the school mission, vision, and expectations 100x-- the trash. I met a girl that day, Jane, who becomes my forever friend.
Although I thought I emptied the garbage a thousand times, I somehow came back to find that there might be something in the trash. Perhaps it's a matter of sorting out useful memories and pulling out those recyclables. However, some things are meant to go straight to the landfill, buried, and forgotten!
I think this is the moment I realize I want to see my story written out. I can't explain the itch I get right before I sleep to get it out there for the world to see-- or at least for the five people who read this. I don't know what may become of this, but I'm definitely excited to find out. I'd be happy if you join me on this journey as I write my heart on this sleeve.
