Diary 34

Dear Diary,

You’re going to be so disappointed in me. Actually I’m more

disappointed in myself for the way I’m tricking people into believing that

I’m something I’m not. Since I’ve been in Ms. Gruwell’s class, everyone

thinks I am “Little Miss Goodie Goodie.” It never fails; she always uses me

as the “good” example. I’m seen as the kind of student that is quiet, has

good grades, and is the teacher’s pet. The strange thing is that while

everyone around me is changing because of our “toast for change,” I seem

to be the only one who’s not going anywhere. It’s hard for me, because I

have a lot of people who always tell me that I am smart, and that I seem to

have it all together, and they sometimes wish they were like me. If they

only knew that on the inside I am just barely keeping it together.

I am living a lie. I am struggling with a deep secret—being a “closet

drinker.” I walk around with my water bottle pretending to be better than

what I am. Deep down inside it hurts me that I can’t bring myself to tell

anyone about my problem. I do want to change, but it’s so hard. It’s so hard

for me to change because I fear that people will not like the sober me. I’ve

been doing it for so long, it’s just a daily routine like getting up in the

morning, going to the bathroom, and brushing your teeth.

I can’t keep on hiding the fact that I’m an alcoholic. I’m hiding it from

my mom, Ms. G, and all of my friends. I know I need help, but how do I go

about getting it? It has got to be hereditary because not only do I have this

problem, but my grandfather, my dad, and his mom had this problem also. I

guess I was going to end up with it myself sooner or later.

Let me tell you about my day. I woke up craving orange juice with a

little hint of vodka. Guess what I did? As usual, I went to my secret stash,

and poured my favorite drink, vodka and orange juice. I started wondering

how I am going to achieve anything in life, if I can’t even start the day

without alcohol.

Of course my mom was already at work, so I walked out the door with

my water bottle filled with O.J. and vodka and went to school like it was an

everyday thing. The thing that really got me was when I got to school, no

one, I mean not even Ms. G or even my best friend, had any idea that I was

drunk. I talked to my friends and teachers and they didn’t know. You know

why? Because I have a trick: I stop off at the donut shop and buy a pack of

gum after I get off the bus. Smart, huh?

During P.E. I almost drowned because my legs gave out on me while I

was in the pool. Everyone thought it was because I was feeling fatigued, but

I knew it was because I was drunk. At lunch I could hardly stand. I ran to

the bathroom and puked all over the stall. I tried to convince myself that it

was because of the flu or something. By dinner time I was back to the way

people always saw me; sweet, smart, and innocent.

My drinking never really bothered me before we started reading all

these books about people changing and wanting to make a difference. It

makes me feel like such a hypocrite. The story that sticks with me the most

is how the Nazis deliberately hurt innocent people like Anne Frank, and in

my case, I’m the one who’s hurting myself. I’m the one choosing to hide.

Unfortunately, Anne Frank was never free. It makes me wonder if I’ll ever

be.

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