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Enough Said
The "Schoolgirls' Diary" is a stocking filler
from the parents, Christmas 1958. I précis
and parse paragraphs in English grammar
lessons, but accounts of daily activities
hark back to kindergarten days. A story
of my life seems pointless. Early entries
are tentative: Gran came to tea. Had hair
cut. By March I hint at emotions: Gym
cancelled, hooray. I hate Maths. I suffer
a teenage crush in May. Ribs grip heart
and lungs, teaching the origin of the term.
I love John so much it hurts. The delight
in words worthy of Juliet (in my opinion)
renders pain worthwhile. I explore their
power in dialogue with myself. In
the meantime, developing sexuality is
noticed. Worried over its potential, mother
looks under my pillow, finds the phrase
to feed her fears and questions me as soon
as I get home. Who is John? What does
'hurts' mean? I cheat surveillance in June;
add, Third Form trip - saw Big Ben, but
omit, Mike kissed me on train. The pages,
open beside the bed, are blank after that.
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