I found my old diaries today while I was going through some of my old boxes. It's just amazing the way I've changed from when I was 14 to when I was 17.

It chronicled all sorts of things, many of which are utterly hilarious. Such as this particularily humourous gem: I'll just pray to God, Mary and St. Theresa and ask for their help to make me feel better. I hope I never have a day like this again.

What was the problem? I asked a boy to dance and he said no! And I wrote this poem about it and went on in such a melodramatic fashion about it changing me into a whole new person... Oh, it is rich indeed.

It also gave a thorough picture of what my relationship with Rock Star had been through the years. It was a mind blower to read through. I can't even believe half of the things that happened or that were said or anything.

And then there was my elusive crush on the boy of my teenage years; this boy whom I had pined for since I was 13. Oh the drama! The theories! The hopelessness of it all and the flare I had for analysing the crush to death.

Teenagers really are foolish. I was one very recently, hormones in full flux and now I have a couple of books proving to me just how foolish I was.

But it's all about personal growth. I grew as a person in those journals, through reflection, metaphorical thinking, suffering and even self pity. Yes, even self pity. I allowed myself to pity myself often; sometimes with good reason, sometimes without and almost always in an overdone way. But I had to dig myself out and I did. I really learned a lot about me in those years. I really grew into myself and learned how to be me.

But I must say, I went through a really rough patch in grades eleven and twelve. Looking back I know that it was not a normal bad hormonal phase. I really had some issues. I have mentioned that I used to cut myself. I long ago stopped that as a part of letting go of the old me, but when it was happening...

...and so I took out a knife from the box in the drawer and quickly cut myself with it many times; I just did it until the pain stopped. I cut myself around... I'm not sure. I honestly couldn't say. God I never felt so much in my life. I didn't know I could ever feel that way, I didn't feel like me. I didn't until I cut myself anyway.

I see myself in the mirror I see someone bad, I see red blood. Drip drip drip. Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, nobody likes me anymore because I'm a bad person, happy birthday to me. Should be a good one. Nothing feels as good as hatred, no sireebob. Can't wait. Maybe if I die I won't have to go. Maybe some nice motorist will hit me with their car tomorrow.

Good grief. When I read these things, I know I wrote them but they seem so far away to me, like in a different world.

In a way they are. Almost three years have passed since the last time a blade touched my skin and it was a conscious decision to stop. I told myself that it was going to end and I would no longer fall to these urges and that I was going to leave them behind. And I did. In the long run, it's meant leaving some other things and even people behind as well (though I've fought change before realizing I can't delay the inevitable) over time but looking at this diary, it's been the best choice.

You can only be around things, places and people that poison you so long until you begin to die.

I found Brent in the midst of this and it was with him I made this choice. I chose him, I chose stability, I chose life. I made other small changes over time and then larger ones. Now, I am with him and in a home that has love in it with friends that bring love and ease with them.

When I read these old diaries, I see how far I've come. I feel worthy.

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Thank You - 2006, June 7
The end - 2006, June 4
Canada Loves Me - 2006, May 31
In and Out - 2006, May 28
Where Have I Been? - 2006, May 25