Friday, June 28, 2013

I'm sorta pretty but REALLY deep.

August 9, 1996


I'm a lot better now. I think I'll be OK. I've had a really good day. French toast sticks and rice krispies for breakfast! :) And good classes. I'm wearing an awesome outfit-- new jeans, short ribbed aqua t-shirt. Everyone is treating me okay. Ellen is going to tell them all about my family stuff. So that will be good. And it can't get much worse. 

This camp experience, as awful as it has been, has taught me a hell of a lot. I deal with stuff. I know that writing with you makes me feel better. I know more about me. I think I understand people better. So I guess it hasn't been a total waste. Although it hasn't been great. Oh well. I know I'll never be here again and I know I won't meet anyone here again. If I do meet them it will be because they were my friends. I'll miss camp and some of the people but home will be great. Being away makes me realize how lucky I am. 

I AM lucky. I have home and parents and cool clothes. I have OK grades. I'm pretty (sorta). I have an awesome bedroom. Great friends etc. It's just a matter of getting home. Can't wait. :)


SPOILER ALERT: Things at home will NOT be great.

Also, what's hotter than a short, ribbed, aqua t-shirt. UM NOTHING.

If you've been following since the beginning you can see the start of the loss of confidence about my looks. Back when I was ten I was positive I was crazy pretty. Third prettiest in the whole grade, to be exact. Now I immediately backtrack on my confidence about my attractiveness. It's sort of tragic. A tragic parenthetical.

Good thing I've learned so much about myself, and about others. (I assume what I really mean is that I have learned how much better than everyone else I am? Or how misunderstood and deep I am?)

Lastly, I would totally love some french toast sticks right about now. That sounds amazing!

Thursday, June 20, 2013

More Tantrums at Camp

August 9, 1996

Dear Beth,

I'm so sad and I can't think of any way to be happy besides thinking about going home. Last night was a fake auction thing. We won Caitlin, a counselor, as a slave and then my idiotic cabin decided to also bid for fishing during rest hour. I was screaming at them not to but they did and we fucking won it. So I was mad. They stay up late, we wake up early. And then they take away my rest hour to go fishing. So then they all go to The Point to (what else?) talk about me! Ellen was there and she walked away from the conversation to find me sobbing alone in the cabin. We talked it out. She knows I'm sad because of stuff with my family. And I'm not used to being unpopular. I don't know what to do. I know it's only seven days but I am so sad. I don't have any friends. On the last day of camp no one is going to huge me and say goodbye. My only solution is to tell Ellen to tell them what is bothering me with family stuff, and explain that anything can set me off. 



Awwww little Corey. Or Corë. So painful to read this. I literally at this point in my camp experience want to do nothing but sleep. And I can't deal with it if one day of sleeping time is compromised. This is literally a fight about me not getting a nap. It's like I reverted from 13 to 3 in the course of one summer.

Or maybe this is what being 13 is like sometimes.

Thanks, Ellen, for coming through. I knew you would.

The line "I'm not used to being unpopular" kills me. KILLS ME. It hurts. If a 13 year old in your life is acting massively irritating, be kind to her, on behalf of 13 year old Corë.

Tuesday, June 18, 2013

More Sad Missives From Camp. More Umlauts.

August 7, 1996
I think the way you can tell if someone is your friend or not is if you feel uncomfortable saying things that are important to you-- then she isn't really your friend. Cece isn't my friend. Every time I say something I worry about what she's going to say. She always has some random bad comment. I don't understand why she can never agree with me or at least respect what I'm saying. It's really sad because she was so great last year and this year she's just not. It makes me really sad. 


A rare moment of actual valid insight. Too bad I'm still using an umlaut, so I can't take my 13 year old self seriously.

August 8, 1996
Camp is over soon! Just 8 days. I hope it goes fast. I also hope we get a double rest hour. I'm tired. I'm very tired and I have a little half headache thing. My analogy that makes me feel better : You look forward to Christmas for a long time. On Christmas you're psyched. But the excitement wears off after the initial happiness. SO 8 days isn't very long, but it's nice to have something to look forward to. When I get home I'll appreciate it. The only really, truly bad thing is tennis. I mean, I don't like having freedom, etc. but tennis is what makes it BAD. 
I'll make it! Can't wait. Remember: It will happen! 

Poor Little Corey. I feel like she was so depressed. Every entry in this period of time is all tiredness and headaches. And reading Cynthia Voight, so at least I had that. I'm also unclear on what was so awful about tennis, but it, too, shows up in every entry from these four weeks at camp.
I also have no idea what this analogy means. I think I have not yet mastered analogies yet.
Umlaut: you haunt me.