October 1993

I believe nothing for I know everything changes.

Reality is a brick.

Already I can sit next to Lena on the sofa, put my head on her shoulder, and say in Assyrian, 'What can you do? It's life.' She's been upset because dad's been drinking. I try to cheer her up.

Where are the doors?

So, this is America. Work and play. Work and play.

Yesterday a van cut in front of me. I was about to get mad, but I have a rule not to let people I don't know piss me off. I noticed the driver of the van looking at me through his side view mirror. He continued to stare for some blocks. I returned his smile. He pulled into a parking lot and I followed. He came up to my car, we talked. Suri was his name. He was big and dark, Pakistani, or something. 'What do you want?' I asked him. He wanted to fuck me. I gave him the number of the loft I'm sitting. Needless to say, he never called, which is just as well. But how exciting. So, I ended up fucking myself with a bottle of champagne.

Lena got letters and pictures from family in Iran and cried. I hugged her. She's wonderful and I will not hide my emotions from her. She needs me.

A fear of people as I move through them. Frightened of having to be with them for the rest of my life. Being rejected. Being accepted. Both tragic in the end.