Monday, July 23, 2012

Dear Diary by Lesley Arfin

What is the book about?

A personal journal from a girl named Lesley who grew up on Long Island. First she is found as one of the cool girls, then she finds everyone hates her. As she encounters people from her past, she questions them on encounters they had together to find out their view of the situation. She includes bully's and fights from her past, as well as old friends that are now enemies. Lesley includes the conversations she has about the past in her personal journal.

Watch her transform from a rebellious teenager to a grown drug addict. You'll dig deep into her past and watch as she transforms her own life right before your eyes.

What did I think of the book?

What an honest and truly brave book to right. Lesley found herself trapped in a life that no body really wants, and she wrote it all down. When we look through past journals, you can see your mistakes that you made and how you ended up where you did. How much pain and agony she must have been going through internally must have been hard. Drugs and sex, it's all in this book. Everything and anything that Lesley can get herself into, she manages to do.

Dear Diary
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Getting close to the crazy girl

I've never been too close to anyone my whole life. I move often, so friends come and go, and lets be honest, no matter how much you promise to "keep in touch," you just don't. Life gets busy and you lose contact. I find friends in other places, that replace the old ones.

See, the hard part about getting close to someone is that I'm a hard person to be with. I'm a weirdo. I date weirdo's. Some are good weirdos, brilliant and funny. Others, not so much.

When I get in these dazes of anxiety and paranoia, and I feel the crazy creeping in, I am instinctively looking for something to relieve it all. Something that will make me feel better. I try a variety of things, but nothing soothes me in the way that I need. Nothing is right. I am not sure I even know what I need at this moment.

In a relationship, I feel that somehow my man can help in somehow. Somehow he will say the magic words that will take me to a happier place, or he will give me a magic hug that soothes me to complete calmness. It never happens, because like I said, I don't know what I want. I am more disappointed that hugs and words didn't make things better. I hoped that he could be the comfort I seek, I in turn get frustrated with him.

The crazy is always creeping up and fucking up my closeness with everyone. I push everyone away if they can't give me what I need. How selfish am I? I feel no one can understand why I yell and cry in my sleep. No one understands why sometimes, out of my peripheral my coat rack looks like my rapist. For a brief second my heart beats out of my chest, I actually thought he was standing there for a split second.

My brain tells my eyes to see what it fears. It puts my heart into panic mode that can take up to an hour to calm down. My body doesn't listen sometimes and the haunting feeling that your not alone in your home can be scary enough to keep my blood pumping for quite sometime. I cannot be reasoned with in these moments. I'm scared, messed up, anxious and on the edge.

This makes hanging out with friends for a long time a little difficult, assuming we are not drinking. Drinking takes away all my inhibitions.

If only I could find someone who could understand why I'm such a paranoid bitch. Hey, at least I'm honest with myself.

Just try to escape my dreams

I'm locked in a building with dozens of people with intentions to hurt me. I'm strapped to a chair as I watch over and over again, they take turns stabbing me, causing blood to seep through my clothes and drip down body and pool at my feet in a sticky, dark puddle. My captives walk by often and as they do they grab a weapon in a china cabinet off to my right. They choose the weapon that clearly suites them, almost as if their weapon must match their personality and mood.

One man, chooses his favorite, turns and looks me in the eyes. He smells of bad garlic breath and sweat from at least two days of not eating. His eyes, their plain and boring but make a mark on my mind. Grey, boring and dull with a hint of evil and desire to torture hidden behind the pupil. It only gleamed when you really angered him. I could tell, I've seen men like him before. Those eyes won't deceive me, and if I had any doubt, the knife in his hands confirms it.

His eyes don't even flinch in the slightest as he pulls his arm back and thrusts it into my hip bone. The pain isn't even recognized any more. Or maybe this is a dream, which might explain the lack of pain. I do feel the pressure of the knife inside my body, and the warm gush of blood as it leaves my body.

The wound is so deep I can feel it pumping out blood to the same beat of my weak heart. Yes, this is a nightmare. It's all to familiar. The room smells the same. Like cheap rope from the binds on my arms which are above my head tied up tight. It smells of body odor from lack of showers from teenage boys. They try to cover it up with cheap drug store body spray and it makes my nose unable to smell anything else. Anything else besides the penny smell from the blood all around me.

Grey eyed man removes the knife, and the pain hits me in my gut, I think I'm going to be sick. I hold back my reaction, and keep my eyes on his grey ones. I will not give him the satisfaction of giving him the reaction of fear that he wants. He yells at me, calling me every name in the book. My lack of emotion hasn't pleased him, which I thought would result in him giving up. Instead he has found me now a challenge.

I hold back tears and try to look strong, as I wish I had done that first horrible day. Here I am again though, reliving a similar experience. I can control it this time. I know it's a dream. I can make this guy explode into thousands of gold coins. Yes, I could make him explode, I'll make him explode gold coins like an exploding leprechaun at the end of a horrible dingy rainbow. Like a twisted version of Mario Kart. Gold coins everywhere.

I focus all my energy on gold coins, I imagine him as a giant gold bar that needs to explode. Nothing happens, I can see him towering over me, his anger growing stronger despite my attempts at mind controlled explosion. Who was I kidding? I am no match for him, and he knows it. He pulls his arm back and stabs me again. Pain radiates into my head.

I close my eyes and wait, patiently. I know what's to come. What do I hear? Is that the ABC's? It is! My daughter, its morning, wake up! Focus on the ABC's. I drag my body, off the torture chair, through the door, up a steep parking lot hill.

I look down on the building I was held captive in from the top of the hill, and cry. I've made it out, and I can hear the ABC's coming out of the baby monitor, calling me back to reality. I cry out for help, I cannot leave the dream, I'm stuck. Someone must be able to get me access to the baby monitor so I can follow it back to my baby girl.

My lover, he walks towards me, up the hill, looking down on my like roadkill, sad to see me in pain but unwilling to really do anything about it since I'm too close to death to be saved. I call out to him. He looks back with pity in his eyes, unsure of what he should do with me.

He hesitates almost like he's going to help me, but finally decides to turn and walk away. I can hear his car start, I'm laying here, stabbed and bleeding trying to drag myself to the ABC's.

My soul floats up above me as I listen to the car driving further and further away, and it seems that he took the ABC's with him. I can no longer hear either of them. I can see what I recognize as my soul, floating above me. It's the size of a doge ball, covered in a substance similar to tar. Black and sticky, clumpy and bubbling over with heat that is radiating from the center.

I can see it float off and get stuck in the trees like a balloon, trying to escape the leaves and gravitate towards the endless blue in the sky. Every branch it gets free of, I die a little more. Pretty soon it's past the clearing of the trees, and I close my eyes for one final time. I die right there.

They say you don't die in dreams. I wake up, realizing I am choking. I feel like I cannot breathe. W-X-Y-and-Z, now I know my ABC's...I'm awake!
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