I don’t remember it all that clearly, and there could be a number of explanations for this1 but that is neither here nor there. I remember meeting him for the first time and thinking how cute he was. I had just begun to make friends at my new High School2 and things were going well. He was a good friend of Kevin’s3. Kevin was an old friend from Dubai who had moved here before my family so I trusted him.
We hit it off and were in love before I could even say ‘Jump’. He would spend long bus and subway trips just to come downtown to be with me. We would fight quite a lot, but I always thought it was because we were both so passionate. Eventually, I took his virginity and, if it was possible, we fell even deeper in love. The school year was coming to an end and I was feeling like a change4. When I was younger, the easiest thing to change was my hair… so without warning, I chopped it all off. A few days later, after yet another heated argument over the phone he broke up with me. Saying that he couldn’t take fighting with me anymore. I knew he was lying, but I also knew it was useless to fight it.
I was devastated. School was out and I had no one to turn to. At least I didn’t think I had anyone to turn to. In retrospect, if I had only called someone… anyone of my friends from school to hang out I’m sure they would have. I remember calling one of his friends who had become my friend through our relationship crying sometimes. Shane3 was a really sweet guy and probably just couldn’t say no to me whenever I called but I’m sure the last thing he wanted was to listen to his friend’s ex crying over the phone. I soon got tired of bothering Shane and must have decided to turn my attention elsewhere.
Or I may have already been dabbling in online journaling when we were together. This is actually the part that I don’t remember that clearly. It’s as if I’ve always been doing this, but we all know that I couldn’t have been. That summer, I also found out about a chat room on mIRC called #4165 where all ‘the cool kids’ hung out. I started going and mainly lurked for the first little while. Slowly, as people started recognising my handle and that I had been coming in every day some of the other regulars started chatting with me, “A/S/L?” Oh god – the horror!
Regardless of the perils6 of mIRC, I was able to meet people who were also interested in web design and online journaling7. Their interest in it all fed my interest and so began my obsession with airing out my dirty laundry for all to see. Of course, I have a lot more readers now than I ever did back then and I tend to censor8 my writing because of it, but I don’t think I would have traded the experience for anything else in the world.
This story was brought to you in celebration of my 500th post in this life of fragileheart’s journal9.
How did you start blogging? Are you glad you did?
- repression or ‘things’ I’ve done since that have altered my memory.. hehe[↩]
- Oakwood C.I. for those who remember from my 100 things[↩]
- name has been changed to protect the innocent[↩][↩]
- I’m sure we all get that sometimes[↩]
- the area code for Toront[↩]
- or lameness[↩]
- I’m calling it this because in 1997, it wasn’t called ‘Blogging’ yet[↩]
- and actually edit[↩]
- I’m sure the number is actually higher if I could all the archives that are offline[↩]