I suppose I am feeling as if this chapter of my life has almost come to an official end. I started writing online in March 2000, around the time I began realizing that something was wrong with me, but didn't know what. My relationship with Cody at that point started to go downhill in a serious way. Sometimes I read those past entries and I cannot believe it was really me writing. I sound like such a complete airhead. I guess I was, though. The thing is, I was a dumb high school girl who thought the world revolved around her and her boyfriend. I had no sense of reality whatsover, I didn't for a second consider the idea of Cody and I breaking up one day. I truly, honestly had no doubt in my mind that him and I would be together forever, no matter what, and that nothing in the world could come between us. I thought we'd been through so many fights already that we could get through anything. I considered all of those stupid fights we had as having gone through "everything" together and that there was nothing worse that could tear us apart.

A few months ago I really wanted to delete all of those older entries, because I was embarassed. I didn't want someone coming across my diary and starting at the beginning to read it, and thinking, whoa, teeny-bopper, and giving up on me right away. I hated the fact that I sounded so stupid, but the thing is... I was stupid. I can't deny the fact that I used to be young and naive (okay, I'm still pretty naive sometimes). I can't just erase a part of myself like that. It's those first couple months of entries that really make you realize the enormous change I've gone through in the last year.

So I kept them, and archived them as the "Pre-Depression" days when in reality, I was already on the brink of losing my mind. All it took was one blow (Cody leaving me) for everything to blow up in my face once and for all. When I re-read the pre-breakup entries I just think, how on earth could I have not seen this coming? I don't think it could have been anymore blantantly obvious.

I skipped a couple months of writing, until I came back at full force in October 2000 and started writing about how I was going to kill myself and that my life was over. This started the "Major Depression" era, where I attempted suicide a couple times, self-injured, starved myself, and was basically a complete mess. I left SFU to move back home, but still finished my semester there.

My life became a hellish routine that went like this - I woke up every morning at 7:30. I had History class at 9:30 on most mornings, so my dad would drive me to SFU every morning and drop me off near the AQ. I'd go to class and not listen to a single word, perhaps go to Sociology as well if I had it that day, and my dad would come pick me up on his lunch break. I'd go back to work with him, where he'd work until 5 pm and I'd sit at an empty desk, playing on the internet, drinking coffee and either writing in here or writing letters to Cody on MS Word. I'd go home, usually crying the whole way, and at home I'd talk on ICQ (usually to Kim) and pretend to do homework. I'd write in my real journal, maybe self-injure a bit, pray to God to kill me in my sleep, call Cody and cry and have a breakdown, become so exhausted from the breakdown that I'd fall into a fitful sleep for a couple hours...next morning, repeat process.

After I'd finished the semester, my parents hauled me off to Hawaii again thinking it'd somehow cure me, but it really didn't do a thing. Christmas was awful, New Years was awful. I started at a new college in January, one a few friends were going to as well. My friends at school, they were like my angels - bringing all the application forms home for me to fill out, taking my deposits in, giving me advice with my classes and teaching me the registration system (which was entirely different than the one I'd just learned for SFU). And so started the third archive, which I named "I'm really trying" - as in, I'm really trying to lead a somewhat normal life again, I'm really trying to find myself, and I'm really trying to beat this. I made new friends and made a lot of mistakes.

I don't know what I should name the fourth archive. I don't know if I should end this diary at the fourth, or if I should struggle to keep this up. I still get upset sometimes, and once in a while I ask myself if I am really over this yet. Most of the time, I am alright, I'm surviving. I think I've re-lived every Cody memory I can think of that is worth sharing. I just think I'm...done.

I know a few people who keep online diaries here, who have a habit of starting new diaries under new user names everytime they are through with a portion of their lives; when what they're saying just doesn't seem appropriate anymore.

I suppose I will think about it. You know how I am with change, and letting go of the past. It hurts to just give up writing in a diary I've had for almost two years. And I can't say I am over Cody yet. I think I will always love him, but it's come to a point where I've finally accepted that it is too hard on me, emotionally and physically, to keep this up. In a way, I was always right - life doesn't feel as if it's worth living, the way I was going about it. Nobody should have to endure that sort of self-inflicted pain. I really think that we're as happy as we want to be.

I think that for the first time in a very long time, I really want to be happy.

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