Page from an old diary, circa 1996
PAST NOTES
analog instant messages
you have found my collection of passed notes from the 90s, welcome.
spanning from the beginning of 1995 to junior year of high school in 1998, a note, reproduced verbatim from the original with the exception of all names, is posted to this blog in the order I'd received it. each post contains one note, and a brief narration of the back story as best I can remember it.
there will also be, from time to time, relevant photos, songs, videos, links, objects, quotes, diaries, poems, and other ephemera (all admittedly completely self-indulgent and wince-inducing).
you have found my collection of passed notes from the 90s, welcome.
spanning from the beginning of 1995 to junior year of high school in 1998, a note, reproduced verbatim from the original with the exception of all names, is posted to this blog in the order I'd received it. each post contains one note, and a brief narration of the back story as best I can remember it.
there will also be, from time to time, relevant photos, songs, videos, links, objects, quotes, diaries, poems, and other ephemera (all admittedly completely self-indulgent and wince-inducing).
Nov 15
Nov 14
Sometimes I would let my friends write in my journals (especially if we were in detention together). This one was done by Primo, circa 1995. It’s kind of fucked up. (Names are blurred out)
Oct 24
Oct 23
Oct 21
Oct 16
Looking though the contents of this journal just now, I actually had the desire to burn it to ash in the kitchen sink. I envisioned people reading it after I die. I don’t think I would ever want it to be in anybody else’s hands but mine. Not even you, Internet. The things I wrote in here are painful to read. And I don’t mean like, the memories are too sad. I mean because the stuff I wrote is just awful. I can’t even look at it. I was thirteen. This is the first journal I got after moving upstate (I actually did burn all the diaries I had prior, in the field behind our new house, not too long after we’d moved. From adolescent embarrassment of childhood. I am still forlorn I did that). In this journal, I start out as a lonely new girl, talking to myself, before I had made any friends. I end the book as a girl, mixed in with the wrong crowd, wanting to kill my parents, burn down the town and die young. And as every page in between gets scarier and scarier, I wonder two things — have I really gotten better over the years, or does this just mean I’ve been crazy for longer than I thought?
I hate this journal.
(my name has been blurred out of photo at bottom)
Oct 04
Who the hell was Henry Lee Lucas, right? He was once considered America’s most prolific serial killer. I used to quote serial killers in my Hello Kitty diaries. John Wayne Gacy, Charles Manson, David Berkowitz, Ted Bundy, etc. So precocious!
Oct 02
Jun 08
May 31
May 30
May 24
May 21
