Bridget's Journal, Week 8 - November
1047 Words
November 2nd
Dear Diary,
I’m thinking about telling Kai the truth.
The party was just really hard. Seems like everything is really hard these days. I thought maybe writing in this stupid journal would help, and it does, a little, but it’s not enough. I’m sick of this secret. I’m sick of feeling like a fraud all the time.
I don’t know why I can’t just tell Mem and Tal. They’d be so mad at me if they knew I was keeping all this bottled up. And I know they’d be super supportive of me once I told them.
But they’re both going through so much already. How could I burden them with this?
Kai seems pretty happy, in the scheme of things—especially now that he and Tally have kissed. (Tally tried to tell me she wasn’t sure he was into it, and I just rolled my eyes. The guy is smitten as hell.) I think, if I told him, he could handle it.
And I would trust him not to tell anyone.
I think I’ll give him until Christmas to prove me wrong, and then I’ll tell him. I can handle two more months, right? And then I’ll have someone to talk to during that last semester, and then I’ll be off at Yale or Harvard or wherever, and I’ll find some cute, smart girl to secretly be with, and I’ll continue lying to my parents, and…
God, this is depressing. I’m going to stop now.
Love,
Me
/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /
November 3rd
Hello there.
I forgot to mention yesterday about Mem and Gray. He earned a lot of points in my book this past weekend. Technically, he lost a few first for skinny dipping (in underwear, thankfully) with her in the ocean, but the poor guy is only human, after all, and Mem has a rockin’ bod, and anyway, he gained them right back by not sleeping with her.
It won’t last forever—I know that. They’re going to have s*x eventually, and she probably won’t actually be ready, and it’ll be painful for her, like it was with Matt, and Tally and I will have to pick up the pieces.
Maybe Gray will help us pick up the pieces, too, though. Maybe he’ll find a way to deal with what Matt couldn’t.
I’ll never really forgive him for that—Matt, I mean. To some extent, I get it—when your virgin girlfriend gets devirginized against her will, the s*x she has with you afterwards is pretty much guaranteed to be problematic. But I think he could have tried harder than he did. I think he made her feel even more broken. And no matter how nice he was about it, that’s something I can never forgive.
I think that’s all for today.
Love,
Me
/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /
November 4th
Happy Wednesday.
Kai just texted me. He asked me if I think he should take a trip to Somalia after graduation.
I’ve never had anyone besides Mem or Tally ask for my advice like that before, and it’s really nice.
(I have no idea if he should take a trip to Somalia, for the record. All I really know about Somalia is from Captain Phillips. I mean, will he get kidn*pped by pirates? Or maybe one movie isn't the most accurate representation of an entire country? I’m going to tell him to do his research.)
Today in art class, we had to paint a portrait of someone meaningful to us. I figured I'd just draw Tally or Mem, or maybe even Kai, but I ended up painting the girl from the NYU party that I mentioned before—the one I kissed.
I’m not really even sure that it looks like her. It’s been a while since then, and my memory of her is foggy, at best. The way I painted her, though, you’d think she was an angel.
"It's beautiful, Bridget," my teacher told me when I was about three-quarters through. "Who is she?"
"Someone I hope to be one day," I told her.
And then I made it uglier, because there's no room in my life for being good at art.
Love,
Me
/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /
November 5th
Something dawned on me last night when I was scrolling through f*******: and a stupid add for Tinder popped up.
That would be a way to meet girls in secret.
Theoretically, it would keep my secret, too. Right? I mean, if anyone from my school showed up on my page, wouldn’t that mean they had the same secret?
Girls can be bitches, though. Maybe they’d claim they were only on there to see who else was.
I wonder if Kai would tell me to create a profile.
Love,
Me
/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /
November 6th
My parents got back from their latest work trip today. I thought we did a decent job of cleaning up on Sunday—Mem bailed, but Tally, Gray, and Kai all helped clean up—but apparently we missed a few rooms, which tends to happen when there are thirty-four rooms in the house.
Anyway, they found some evidence of parties, called me down to the living room, and scolded me for about twenty minutes—which is more than they usually talk to me in a month.
“You need to be thinking about your future, Bridget,” my mom said. “If one of these parties puts Princeton in jeopardy, you’ll never forgive yourself.”
“Brown,” my father corrected. “She’s going to Brown.”
That’s how they are, my parents—each of them wants me to be a clone of themselves. Mom went to Princeton, obviously, and Dad went to Brown.
“Sorry,” I told them mechanically, and before long, they went back to pretending like I don’t exist.
Love,
Me
- Writer
