Melissa says [Leland] is in love with me. “Watch him,” she said. “He can’t take his eyes off you. He watches you constantly. He talked about it for days when you turned down his marriage proposal. He hates it when you talk to other guys.” “Hogwash,” I said, and I don’t say that often. Then I realized she had a point. Whether it’s love, blamm-o, the real thing, or not – well, he’s feeling something. And me? I feel married. He blew it! He had his chance! I was mad about him when we were sleeping together. That S.O.B. is now paying for his mistake. But I wish sometimes that he and I could get together and be with each other. It has nothing to do with [Sebastian], it’s just nice to have someone in love with me, someone who is fascinated by my stupid stories and someone who doesn’t notice my flab, someone who would not criticize or embarrass me in public. Oh how nice it would be, but it is not in the cards. I could...

Had a fight with [Leland]. He suggested we sleep together in a crude and obnoxious manner and I was offended that he held me in such low regard, that he viewed me as a sexual object rather than as a friend. He claims I imply to him that I want to have an affair with him. Actually nothing could be further from the truth. Though his body is beautiful, sex would complicate things between me and the Fellas as well. “What,” he said wetly in my ear. “You don’t love me anymore?”

Alice’s kitchen, summer 1987 “It was like a second honeymoon.”

Summer, 1988 So then we stopped by Roger’s to get some herb, and Roger was really weird to me. I guess they all know now what a horrible witch I am. [Sebastian] and I came back here and I was in a terrible, awful mood. We fought and gave each other our keys back. Then we decided to be friends, and then we cried. This journal is just the most depressing thing; reliving all of this is the hardest past. But I’m determined to keep up in it faithfully, because one day I’ll be writing happy things in it and I won’t appreciate the good times without recording the bad. “…we’d talk, cry, fight, make love, and cry some more–this went on for weeks.”

Summer 1988 well here i am, alone, naturally, writing from my bed, my one piece of furniture so far. this place is so weird and white and empty. i feel so isolated out here. i wish i had a phone to ring, not that it would. So fine they’re all gone, and i’m still me, whatever that is. too much space to think here. i guess i fucked things up pretty badly to wind up like this, or maybe it’s better this way. no [Sebastian], no [Leland], no more phone booths and stupid scenes. still, I thought things would be different. i mean i moved out and left somebody i loved, somebody who loved me, the only person who ever loved me, granted an insane person , as you would have to be to love me. i guess two insane people in a relationship is too many. [Sebastian’s] a child, he can’t take care of himself, how can he take care of me? but at least he tried! i’m so fucked up. i can’t believe i treated him this way, and for what? [Leland] never loved me so fuck him....