August 24th, 1975

Hey. I’ve been staring at this page all morning. I wrote the first word, ‘hey’, an hour and a half ago. I guess I’m just overthinking everything.

So, sorry about yesterday. I want to tear out those first few pages and pretend I never wrote them. But I did write them, so there’s no use trying to pretend I didn’t. I don’t usually start my journal’s like that. I was venting in my last journal, Felix, and I ended up running out of pages. So I finished that entry here. I know I got a little intense near the end there. Sorry.

Anyway, this is my new journal. Lucky number eight. I try to put an introduction at the start of each of my journals; I’ve been keeping my journals since I was ten. I still have most of them. My first journal was named Bronx. That was the name of my old dog. A black mastiff. I used to talk to him all the time when I was little. Mom would get irritable when I made a lot of noise so I started writing letters to him in my journal. Plus, it was nice to write my thoughts down. It made them seem more real later on. Bronx passed away years ago but I still name all my journals. I don’t know why. It’s a habit, I suppose. I also don’t know why I rename all my journals. I could just name them all Bronx but giving each journal its own name feels special, I guess? It’s lame, but it feels like I’m making a new friend when I start a journal. Fuck, that sounds really pathetic, doesn’t it?

Anyway, I’ve been thinking up names for you. I wanted a name that starts with A or O. So far I’ve named my journals Bronx, Dawson, Marcus, Virgil, Damian, & Felix. No A’s or O’s so it’ll be a nice change of pace. I was thinking either Oliver, Albert, or Archer. I don’t read a lot of fiction, I’m more of a non-fiction fan, but I’ve heard good thinks about Oliver Twist. It’s about an orphan boy, right? I wish I could relate…

Anyway, what do you think? Oliver sound good to you? You kinda look like an Oliver. You probably can’t see yourself but you’ve got a bluish-black leather cover with that long fold-over lip thing. It’s called cowboy leather, I think. You’ve got a leather ribbon to tie yourself closed. I think Oliver would suite you.

I should introduce myself. I should’ve done that in my first entry but, you know, better late than never, right? That entry probably sounded like fucking nonsense. I haven’t read it back yet. God, that must sound really pretentious, huh? Reading my own journal entries over and over again. I even spellcheck them, sometimes. Because I’m just that full of myself.

I’m getting sidetracked again, sorry. So, introductions. My name’s Leonhard, Leo for short. Leonhard Mathias Frost. It’s a bit conceited but I’ve always liked my last name. “Mr. Frost” is kinda cool, right? I used to pretend I was a secret agent when I was a kid, like James bond, ‘Dr. No’ super-spy kind of shit. Frost, Leonhard Frost. I'm turning 19 in a month. I’m in a four-year social science and psychology program at Queen’s. I’m a little nervous since I haven’t been to school in half a decade. And University is pretty different from middle school. I don’t really know what to expect, you know? It’s not like I know anybody around here since I just moved. I’ve got my schedule and I’ve walked around campus so I know where everything is. It’s sitting in class that I’m most worried about. I don’t know if you can tell but I don’t get out much. Don’t have a lot of friends. So sitting in a big auditorium with a hundred people for hours on end is a little daunting. It’s not like middle school so I probably won’t have to talk to anyone except the professor but, it sounds really lame, but I kind of want to talk to the other students? Just, like, I don’t know. How do you make adult friends? Fuck, how do you make friends, period? Or will I seem all creepy trying to make small-talk to strangers before class? I don’t want to annoy anyone but when else am I going to meet people my own age with similar interests? Even if they don’t like me. They won’t like me, I know it.

The gym on campus is nice and so are the people there. I chatted with one of the trainers for a while during my sets. His name is Jimmie. I wouldn’t call us best friends of anything but he’s an acquaintance. It’s a bit too hot out right now, though, so it’s hard to build up the motivation to go. I can’t wait until autumn. It’s a fucking sauna outside.

Maybe I’ll meet people at work. I just started a job at the library on campus. It just got expanded, so I snagged a cleaning job when I moved in. Orientation was two days ago. It’s huge. There’s a lot of students hanging around already. I’m in charge of cleaning the reading areas and sorting the returned books so I’ll be able to interact with other students during my shifts. I don’t want to harass them while they’re studying, though, so I’ll probably end up watching them from around the corner like a creep. And then I’ll get fired. For being a creepy pervert. Maybe I’ll just focus on getting through the semester and worry about make acquaintances later.

I guess that’s just about everything. Pretty boring, huh? Sorry that you’re stuck listening to me whine for the next year or so. That’s gotta suck.

Yesterday was rough. I know I already apologized, and you’re a book so you don’t care, but I’m sorry that what I wrote was so aggressive. I just read it back, now. Wow, I’m a real drama queen, aren’t I? Sorry. My parents, they just really get under my skin sometimes. They’re all alone. No one else in the family talks to them anymore. None of them talk to me either but it’s not like they ever had the chance to get to know me anyway. We only have each other so I try to keep in touch. That makes me sound like such an asshole. Like I’m too good to keep in touch with my own fucking parents. I’m not. My parents weren’t the best. They let me down in a lot of different ways but I think I did the same to them in a lot of ways. If they were shitty parents, I’m also a shitty son. They’re also shitty people in general though. I hope I didn’t inherit that from them too. That’s why they’re all alone.

I hope I make some friends soon.

Anyway, thanks for listening. Sorry for the rant. It probably won’t be the last one.

Nice talking to you, Oliver. Bye.