page 251

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.”