Donna"s parents were asleep on the couch when we walked in, and we snuck past them and up to Donna"s room. We brushed our teeth and fixed our hair a little, and before we went downstairs, we hugged each other. We didn"t say a word. We just hugged. I think it was our way of saying that it was our secret, and that we were still friends, and that we were okay. We were home, and we were okay.
Donna woke her dad up and said we"d been waiting to wake him because he looked so peaceful, sleeping there leaning his head on Mrs. Hayward"s shoulder. He offered to drive me home, so I called Mom, and she said she hadn"t even realized the time because she was reading a really good book. She said Dad was already in bed. She said she"d wait up for me.
I don"t feel guilty about what happened, but I think that"s only because no one was worried, and the boys were so nice. I just can"t help but get sad inside when I realize that it"s over. That night is gone, and I"m Laura again. Thirteen years old, and the apple of my daddy"s eye. Not with anger, but with antic.i.p.ation, I look forward to being older, and on my own, with no one but me to answer to.
G.o.d bless Mom and Dad, Troy, Jupiter-rest his soul-and the boys. Josh, Tim, and Rick. Thank you, G.o.d, for giving me those few hours of... BLISS.
More soon, L P.S. I am feeling like each time I think about tonight I change it a little bit. The boys get a little bit more rough with me each time. I get more seductive, and I make them tell me how they feel when they touch me. I make them tell me what it"s like for them. I don"t know why I changed it... I loved it the way it was, but when I make it again in my head, I make them do things a little nastier. I like that feeling, I like that they feel more than I do.
November 10, 1985 Dear Diary, Last night, for the first time in ages, I slept all the way through the night. When I woke up, I couldn"t even remember the dreams I had had, or if I even had any. I know they say everyone dreams all the time, but usually I remember them. Anyway, I was brushing Troy at the stables, and all of a sudden I got this image in my head of an address: 1400 River Road, 1400 River Road. I had dreamed it. I suddenly felt like I had to be there. I had to find this place and see what it was. I decided I would call Mom from the stables and tell her I was going for a ride with Troy, and I"d be back soon.
I had a little bit of an idea of where 1400 River Road was, but I just checked it with Zippy to make sure. He said it wasn"t that far away, but there wasn"t much there. I told him I wanted to ride out with Troy somewhere I hadn"t been before. I didn"t want to tell him I"d dreamed about this address and had to find out if it even existed. I was afraid he"d look at me funny, and besides, I wasn"t even sure why I felt so drawn to it. I guess with all that had been happening, I felt like I should just keep quiet about it. Keep it secret, like so many other things. Zippy said to be sure to make a left when the dirt road forks off, because otherwise I would end up on a paved road, and that would be bad for Troy"s hooves and shoes. I promised, and off we went.
All sorts of thoughts went through my head, and I even cried a little because I started to think about Josh and Tim and Rick, and how I would probably never see them again. I thought about how Donna hadn"t called me today yet, and I was worried she was thinking I was dirty or bad or something, and I felt a very deep need to talk to her. I hope she doesn"t stop liking me.
I don"t know what I would do if that happened. So, I kept seeing this address in my head, each time I finished a thought, no matter what it was, and finally I found myself in front of this very old, abandoned gas station. I got off Troy and tied him up at the frame that was still there. The frame that goes around the top of the pumps. The one with the signs telling you which gas is which. Gra.s.s was growing there, and I just let him graze so I could look around.
When I walked around Troy, so that I was completely facing the station, I saw the Log Lady standing very quiet with her log, right underneath the piece of wood that said 1400 River Road. She smiled at me, and I realized I had seen her face in my dream. We didn"t say anything to each other for a long time. We just stared, smiling. I wasn"t uncomfortable, but I was pretty curious about what I was there for, and just as I was thinking this, she spoke to me.
She said, "I know you"re feeling curious about this place and about me."
I nodded.
"A dream told me I was supposed to meet you here, so that we could spend some time," she said.
My stomach did a flip and my mouth dropped open.
"I dream like other people sometimes," she said calmly. "It just happens."
I never realized that Margaret, the Log Lady, was so nice. We sat together on the gra.s.s out in the front, and she told me she knew a lot of things about me, special things. She said I should not worry so often. If I pay attention to the things around me, these special things will come.
She would often touch her log, be silent as she leaned down close to listen to it. Most times she would smile as if she were amused, pleased. Other times, she would tell the log that she would not hear about that now. This was not the time.
The last time that happened, she turned to me and whispered, "Things are not what they seem."
She looked away, then turned back with a different look on her face, as if she were relieved we were still alone. She said she knew I had been dreaming of being a woman, and that this was good because young girls always do. Then her words got confusing... she said many things about the woods, and I tried to listen very carefully, because I trusted her and thought maybe she knew something that would help me. A lot of it seemed like gibberish. I remember it, so I"ll write it down, but I don"t know what it means. Maybe I"ll understand it later. What I did understand made me feel so good inside, like I wasn"t being bad all of this time, maybe, and that I could keep on hoping for things without being afraid that I was acting selfishly.
Here are some of the things she told me. She said that sometimes the woods are a place to learn about things, and to learn about yourself. Other times the woods are a place for other creatures to be, and it is not for us. She said that sometimes people go camping and learn things they shouldn"t. Children are prey sometimes... I think that"s how she said it. What else... I tried so hard to remember everything. Oh. She told me that she would be watching, and someday people will find out that she sees things and remembers them.
She said that it is important to remember things you see and feel. Owls are sometimes big. There! That was the one I had forgotten totally. Owls are sometimes big. I hope that doesn"t mean my mom talked about that "Owl Dream" I had. I don"t think so, but that"s the only way it makes any sense to me. I hope I"ll understand all of this soon. Either way, we kept sitting together, and I listened to her hum this song that I had never heard before, but I thought it was very nice. It made me feel safe, which I think she was trying to make me feel. I feel sorry for her, that people think she is strange and weird. She isn"t at all.
I could see in her eyes that something had hurt her, but I didn"t even begin to understand what it was until Mom told me when I got home. She said that Margaret (the Log Lady) had a husband who was a fire fighter. He was killed fighting a fire, and Mom said it was awful because he tripped over a root or something and fell headfirst into hot coals and burned himself to death, face first. They had just been married a little while when he died, and since then Margaret has been very quiet and has kept her pain to herself. Mom also said that she didn"t have her log until after her husband died.
I didn"t know any of this when I was out there at 1400 River Road with her, but it didn"t really matter, I guess. I told her I thought she was a very nice and special person, and that I was glad I had paid attention to my dream, because I wouldn"t have wanted to miss talking with her. I told her I hoped she was right about my life having special things in it, that I will look for them, because I want my life to be good.
Then I told her something that I hope she never repeats. I didn"t even expect to say it, and to tell you the truth I didn"t know where it came from. I told her that sometimes things happen that no one knows about. They happen in the woods when it is very dark. I told her that sometimes I wasn"t even sure these things were real, and sometimes I think they are more real than the sun coming up in the morning, and that the thought of that frightened me very much. She looked away from me, I remember, when I finished. I thought I had said something that upset her. She grabbed her log tight, then looked back at me and said that I was a very beautiful girl, and that many people would love me in my life.
I hope many people do love me in my life. Someday someone will love me the way the boys did, but even more. I wonder where that person is right now, and if he is wondering where I am and what I look like, and when we will finally meet. I wonder if Margaret has ever thought about s.e.x the way that I do.
On the way home I tried to hum the song she had hummed to me, but I couldn"t remember it. I felt very good inside when I left 1400 River Road, and that feeling stayed with me, all through my ride back to the stables, all the way home with Mom in the car, and even now it is just as strong. I hope Margaret isn"t feeling lonely right now. I hope she is feeling as happy as I am. I only wish I could have brought her news of how happy her life would be. It"s too bad I had nothing for her.
More later, L P.S. Donna still hasn"t called me back.
November 13, 1985 Listening to the Wood Inside the trees are souls I think Souls that grow and change Inside each leaf, so quiet A memory of moments no one else has seen But no man ever listens Takes the time to think That trees might see what happens That in the way they rustle Is a hint they wish to speak.
They might have tried to whisper In the palm of someone"s hand their memory of the little girl How there is a new hole inside her And a new and smaller mouth But no one believes or cares That maybe The tree would know Something was very wrong That it wants to talk about the sadness It has seen so many nights I think the world Should walk deep into the woods Listen very carefully, To the voices in the leaves.
See the details, the tiny maps Of footsteps, and sometimes stains They should see that the leaves Are shaped like tears They should study the design in fallen needles Maybe there are some markings on the ground That will lead the world To the one who made The hole.
It is late, and he came tonight. I don"t know if the Log Lady was talking about the right Laura Palmer.
November 20, 1985 Dear Diary, I had a dream just now that makes me believe I will not be sleeping tonight.
I was in a room. It was very empty, and I was feeling badly that it was empty. I thought it was my fault that nothing was there. I was crouched in one of the corners of the room, and I was staring at this one spot at the other end of the room, because I knew something was going to be there, soon.
After a minute, I started to get very cold. And I thought that I saw something, but it disappeared. Then I looked away because I was trying to find the door that went to another room and out of this one, because I wanted to see if the furniture was in another room. I felt very bad about something and I wanted to fix things, so that I could stop feeling so... guilty. I guess that"s what I was feeling. Guilt.
I turned back to look aross the room and there was an enormous rat sitting there. I knew in the dream that it was coming after me, and that it wanted to bite my foot off. I became so afraid! I saw it come closer and closer to me and I tried to think of a way to stop it, or a place to run away, but there wasn"t anywhere to go, or anything I could do!
I know it may sound funny, but it was so frightening. I sat very still and tried to keep my feet tight against my body so that the rat couldn"t get to my foot. I couldn"t stop thinking of how awful it was going to feel when it closed its jaws around my ankle and bit down. I didn"t want to feel that, and I didn"t want the rat to come near me. Don"t come near me! I just kept thinking of how much pain there would be... And so, in the dream, because I knew all he wanted was my foot, I bit my foot off myself.
When I woke up, I could barely breathe, I was so scared! I can still see the rat, and I think it was after me because something was wrong with the room, or I was being punished for something. But I was more afraid of the rat"s teeth and how much it would hurt... So I decided I would do it. I would hurt myself, before he could. Even though I didn"t understand why the rat wanted to hurt me, I just knew I had to do it myself, or he would.
I didn"t like that dream at all. Please, Diary, I know it sounds silly, but don"t judge me the way someone might if they heard me tell them this dream. I hope I never dream like that again. I don"t even want to know what it means, or if I"m sure I even want to remember it. I"ll decide that tomorrow, when the darkness is gone, and things are easier to see when they come after you.
It makes me mad that I feel like I can"t go and tell Mom about this. I"m afraid she"ll laugh and then maybe tell it to everyone and embarra.s.s me. I"m so afraid people will laugh at me. I am going to try to be more like Donna. I"ll be good and I"ll do everything I"m supposed to do. That way, there won"t be anything anyone can find out and make fun of me for. There will be nothing they can say I have done wrong.
I bet that what I did with Donna and the boys is causing this. I can"t even think straight enough to decide if one feeling was worth the other. Something has to be causing nights like this. I will try to be better. I will stop doing things that older girls should be doing. I will not let anyone hurt me, like in the dream. I"ll hurt myself first. I know the places that are the most delicate. I"ll do the hurting from now on, as long as all of this stops!!!!
I wish I could talk to my mommy.
Laura December 16, 1985 Dear Diary, I don"t know that I will be writing in you for a while. I have just had another dream. I must have fallen asleep while I was waiting for the sun.
I don"t know why, but I kept seeing you appear and disappear on people"s laps. On their seats at the diner, when they went to the jukebox. On the hood of their cars when they went to go driving. I tried to take you back, but you kept sliding away. You were going to tell everyone what was inside you.
A few people read what was written there and these people turned into rats. They wanted to take me out the way BOB does. I think that until I understand more, we shouldn"t speak. I don"t know why I dreamed this... but I am too afraid to challenge it.
If this doesn"t make the nightmares and the fire and the ropes and the little silver blades go away... Maybe I am supposed to give into them. Maybe that is what is meant for me. Maybe I just have to be patient and stop fighting it, and it will go away.
I hate to say good-bye to a listener as good as you. I feel I must, though, until I find out if you are somehow talking to people when I don"t know about it.
Am I going crazy? I can"t wait until vacation is over and school starts again so that I can have something to keep me busy. I look at other girls that I know, other girls I see, and they all smile, like I do. Inside are they beginning to lose everything they know? Have they stopped trusting themselves and everyone around them too? Please don"t let me find out that I am the only one on earth with this pain.
Laura April 23,1986 Dear Diary, It has been a long time since I"ve written. School is fine but I find it almost too easy. There is not enough to keep my mind from wandering to boys, or fantasies. Donna and I have had several fights this year because she says I"m acting strangely to her, and that I"m not being the friend that I was. I hate crying, so why does it come so easily lately? I am only trying to be good, and to keep busy, and not to do too much talking or daydreaming because I thought that bothered people and made bad things happen to me.
Now Donna is mad because I won"t tell her what I"m really feeling, because I"m afraid! I can"t tell her I"m afraid because she would make me tell her why. I can never ever tell. I haven"t even touched myself where I know I can to make myself feel good. I"m afraid, because that is about s.e.x, and I decided I wouldn"t think about that anymore... which is so hard!!!
I hate myself, and I hate my life! Dad has been busy all the time lately with Benjamin and his work there at the Great Northern, and I am starting to feel the way Audrey must when her father spends more time and attention with me than he does with her.
Now it is happening in the reverse, and I am just trying to be good and make it stop, and it is only getting harder for me to sleep or even eat! I don"t want to feel this way anymore. If I do, I know something awful will happen.
I dreamed last night that I had dug a hole in the backyard for a well, because I was trying to help us with water, and I thought a well would be a nice thing to build for the family. Mom loved the idea and smiled very big. But when she went outside, later in the dream, I was burying myself in the hole, trying to kill myself. She realized I had lied to her, and this made her very upset. She ran out to stop me, and I screamed that I didn"t want to wake up in the middle of the night with leaves all over me anymore. I wanted to be a tree so that I could listen for trouble in the woods. And I was buried all of a sudden. But I was inside something that wasn"t a dirt hole.
Mom came to my room right after to ask if I was all right, and I told her I was fine. I was just having nightmares about the woods is all. The look on her face went from sadness to hopefulness. Then, unfortunately, she began something I didn"t need to hear at all! She started telling me about the birds and the bees, and about birth control and babies, and all of this ridiculous stuff about how my dreams were just a part of my changing body, and maybe I just needed some questions answered.
The whole time she talked to me, I was thinking of something else.
I had to think of flowers and of smiling faces and anything... big trucks filled with lumber, of birds, of Donna Donna Donna ... good things only. Don"t listen, couldn"t listen to that voice saying all of the things that were like little keys to the doors and rooms I wasn"t supposed to be in! How could this happen? She didn"t stop for almost an hour, and I almost had to hold my hand down... I wanted to hit her, smack that smiling, helpful face and scream, "How do you do it! What has happened to that part of me!"
Do you want to know the part that frightens me most? The only thing people think about me right now is that I am going through my adolescence! Everyone still sees the smiling Laura Palmer. The girl with perfect grades and perfect hair and perfect little fingers that want to sometimes, late at night, go into the mirror to strangle the daydreaming troublemaker I see in the reflection!
Today I will go to see Donna and I"ll talk to her. I"ll talk the best I can. I have no schoolwork left to do, and I"ve already finished two extra-credit projects. I made the honor roll, and the junior debate team. I pray all of the time, but have never felt worse in my life. I am starting to think that a few moments of good, in the middle of miles and ages of bad, is better than no good at all. I hope Donna still wants to be my friend. If I can, I will tell you what happens with Donna.
Soon, Laura April 24,1986 Something just came to me...
A memory of skipping I was small, looking up at him Before he told me to lie down Or to say things Before he told me That opening my mouth was bad That we had a secret Before he began to turn me inside out With his dirty claws Before I sat on the tiny hill We used to skip Hold hands Talk about what we saw He told me what to see But I didn"t see it I have been blind I think Ever since the skipping stopped.
I want to be left alone like other people are. I want to learn about this soft white suit I wear the way everyone else does.
I want to forget the things that suddenly come to me... Something very bad is happening... Why is it happening to me?
I think it is real. I think it is real!
After I see Donna, maybe I can tell you about what I am remembering. I had forgotten so much... but I can"t tell if I am better off knowing or not really knowing at all.
Please still be my friend, Donna, please!
L.
June 21,1986 Dear Diary, I spent the day with Donna yesterday. For a long time she wouldn"t even really say anything to me. When I started crying, I ran out of her house and just kept running. I was so glad when she came after me, and she was crying too. I told her as much as I could. That I was worried about being good because I had been having bad dreams, very bad dreams, and I wasn"t just kidding her when I said I wasn"t sleeping at all. I told her I wished we could talk about the night with the guys at the stream, but it always seems like she hates me or something, or I"ll have an awful dream and think that what happened was bad. I told her I needed to hear what she thought about that night. I needed to know if she thinks we should be punished for it, or if I should, because I did more than she did... I just needed to know!
Donna told me that she was afraid I wasn"t talking to her because I was mad that she hadn"t gone as far with the guys as I had, and that I didn"t like her anymore because of it! I asked her how she could think that when we had such a nice hug when the evening was over, and I still remember that hug as one of the clearest, nicest parts of the whole night! I told her I was just very confused, and I told her I didn"t know half the time whether I should be enjoying it as much as I was, or if I should have been feeling bad.
Donna said the only reason she got out of the water was that she wasn"t sure what she felt right doing, even though all of the boys were nice. And then she cried and looked at me, very strange, and said something that really made me feel weird. She said that another reason she didn"t get more into it was that she was afraid to because I seemed too good at it right away, and she didn"t know what she should be doing, or how to do it. She wanted to know if it just came naturally to me, or if I had been seeing a boy and hadn"t told her.
I couldn"t answer her for a long time. I don"t think I knew the answer. What did she mean, good at it? I told her I remembered feeling s.e.xy, and very happy that they liked me and wanted me, but half of that, if not more, was the boys" doing, not mine. Plus we were drunk that night, and it just felt so good to do things I had wondered about for so long... She stopped me there and said that she thought about boys like that too. I asked her how she thought of them, like what they were doing when she dreamed of them, and she said they were taking her dancing, or seeing her at school and letting her ride in their cars. She said she was thinking about being with older boys who treated her like she was a princess, and at night they would come into this big, beautiful bed and lie next to her, and they would talk and kiss, and sometimes they would make love.
She said she didn"t really like going that far because it seemed too rough for the rest of the daydream. She thinks about s.e.x, though, she said. But it is the kind of s.e.x that goes really slow like in soap operas. She said she sees it in slow motion and she can hear music playing, and they roll around, she and this boy, very slow, until it fades out of her head. She said she hoped that my fantasies were as s.e.xy as hers are.
Oh, G.o.d, Diary, everything was fine until we talked about that! I just had to tell her that my fantasies were exactly the same as hers, and that we should never have argued, and I said I was sorry if I hurt her feelings. I should have been more open with her, and that I was only worried that she had begun to hate me for going so far that night. She said she thought I was very brave, and that if it felt good to me, then I should think of it as a good thing. But what about the fantasies she has! I was about to die when I heard how pure and sweet and gentle they were. Why doesn"t she think the things I do! I was so hoping we had the same thoughts... I was depending on it.
I know she was telling the truth because of how she told me, and by how embarra.s.sed she got when she talked about this boy getting into bed with her. She is so pure, I just can"t believe it. I think that the times that I have to go into the woods at night have poisoned me.
I would be like Donna, I"ll bet, if I were still just skipping through the trees, instead of... what happens now. But... I would never ever ever wish for what happens now! I wish for things that make me feel s.e.xy and playful, things that don"t take me to do all the work, things like someone else trying to please me, instead of me always trying to make everyone else happy.
I wish there was a place you could go where someone would answer all of your questions, and tell you if you were doing the right thing or not. How am I supposed to know when I can"t even talk about things really? I just keep saying the same things again and again. I am running in circles, and it is time that I stop.
Donna and I are friends still, and I still love her, but things feel different to me. I can"t think the way she does, or even try to anymore. I will think what I feel, and I will try to make people see things the way I do. I wish I had a marijuana cigarette right now. It feels like I haven"t laughed for years and years and years.
Thank you for listening.
Laura June 22,1986 Dear Diary, I am just going to write and not think too hard about it and maybe I can remember more. I just woke up; it is 4:12 A.M.
I don"t remember when it started, but he has always had long hair. He knows everything about me and knows how to frighten me more than any of the dreams I have already told you about.
He first started to play with me. We would chase each other through the woods, and he would always find me... but I could never find him. He would come up from behind me and grab my shoulders and ask me my name. I would tell him it was Laura Palmer, and he would let go and turn me around and laugh.
When I think about it, he wasn"t playing the way he should have been. He was being very mean to me, and he was scaring me all the time. I think he likes it when I am frightened. He makes me feel that way every time he takes me with him. He likes to embarra.s.s me by pulling down my panties and putting his fingers inside, deep. When he knows it hurts me, he pulls them out and smells his hand. He always tells me I smell like bad things. He screams out loud into the trees that I smell, and that I am dirty, and he doesn"t know why he even likes me. He says if I didn"t beg him to come all of the time, he would never come back.
I never beg him to come. Never. I wish him far away from here. I swear it.
When I started to get older, he would tell me things about myself that I didn"t know. I don"t think he was telling the truth. I think he was lying to me and making it up as he went along. He always knew exactly what scared me, and just the things to say to make me cry. Then he would take my neck... and squeeze. He squeezed my neck hard until I stopped crying. He would let go just before I would faint... I think I was fainting... sometimes that still happens. Everything goes tingly and dark, and my head spins inside and I can"t see anything, and I have to stop crying or he"ll keep squeezing.
Sometimes he says, "What"s this down here?... What"s this down here, Laura Palmer?" He always says my whole name like he won"t get close to me like that, but he will every other way. Sometimes I would come home bleeding. I would bleed and I couldn"t tell anyone, so I would sit up all night in my bathroom, all alone, and wait for it to stop coming out. Sometimes he would cut me between my legs, and other times he would cut me inside my mouth. Always tiny little cuts, hundreds of tiny little cuts. I had to use a flashlight in the bathroom or else my parents might wake up and see the light, and I"d be in worse trouble then.
Some nights he would make me sticky. Rub himself very fast, and he would say that I had to hold the sticky in my hands, close my eyes, and recite this little poem while I licked my hands clean.
I only remember a little. This hasn"t happened for a long time, the sticky. He made me say: The little b.i.t.c.h Is awfully sorry The little b.i.t.c.h Drinks you up (I can"t remember more, except the last line.) In this seed is death indeed.
He wants me to like it, when he is with me. He wants me to say that I am dirty and that I have an odor. I should be thrown into the river so that I will be clean.
I am so careful to smell clean, all the time. I always wash between my legs, and I always go to sleep in fresh panties, in case he makes me come with him. I always worry he will come for me, and I won"t have clean panties. He says I"m lucky he even stays to spend time around me. He says that he is the only man who will ever want to touch me.
He comes to the window, and I see him. I always see him, and he is always smiling like we are going to have a good time together. I am so close to calling my parents for help, but I am afraid of what would happen. I can"t let anyone know about him. If I keep seeing him, he might get tired of me and go away. Maybe if I stopped fighting him, he would not like to visit me anymore. If I weren"t afraid. If I could just not feel afraid...
I have never thought about him like this ever before.
I hope that if there is a G.o.d, he will understand that I am trying to keep clean, and if this is a test that he is giving me, I"ll find a way to pa.s.s it. I bet it is a test. I bet G.o.d wants me to prove that I can take orders, or maybe that I am not afraid to die and come be with him. Maybe BOB knows G.o.d, and that is why he always knows what I am feeling inside. G.o.d must be telling him what to do to me. G.o.d wants me not to be afraid, maybe, of being dirty. If I"m not afraid, he"ll take me to heaven.
I hope so.
L.
July 25,1986 Dear Diary, I have been trying very hard not to be afraid.
I am seeing a boy I told you about once before. I didn"t like him then, but now I think he is just right for me. He reminds me very much of the boy on the wall of the Book House. He dresses the same way, but he does not have a motorcycle. I am fourteen now. I didn"t let anyone celebrate my birthday. I made Mom promise she wouldn"t plan anything. I told her at the kitchen table the day before that I had a lot of thinking to do about my life. I just wanted to spend my birthday alone. I wanted to walk alone, and maybe take Troy out for a ride: I made sure she knew I didn"t want to hurt her feelings, but I just needed to spend some time alone. She fussed for a while and kept asking me why I couldn"t spend the following day by myself. I finally told her that I was feeling confused and I wanted to come home on the night of my birthday with everything sorted out. I wasn"t going to go far, I promised her that. I just wanted to go. I promised her that next year and the following year, sweet sixteen, I will have a party of one kind or another.
So I spent my birthday alone. I went out to where I go with BOB. It was light out, and everything seemed like an awful dream, until I saw a piece of rope lying at the back of the base of his favorite tree. I got a chill, but forced it away. I tried to look carefully at the tree, to find something that would explain why he picked this place, this tree. There was nothing. I made sure I was alone before I did what I had planned.
I looked very carefully, and when I knew I was alone, I pulled a marijuana cigarette from my pocket. I made Bobby get one for me. He wanted to share but I told him he couldn"t. We could do some together later, maybe. I smoked it very slowly and started thinking about s.e.x. About men, all kinds of them, inside me.
I tried to think of things that BOB would like. I pulled a pair of my panties out of my pocket and rubbed them on the tree. I wore them just before I left to come here, so I knew the smell of me would be strong m not afraid anymore either that I smell bad. I know I don"t. I think I smell like a girl should.
When I put my panties to my own nose and breathe in, I imagine a girl in front of me, and how a man would want to touch her. Get up close. BOB calls it p.u.s.s.y. I want to touch, can you hear me, BOB! When I smell it, I am not afraid, I told myself. I said it out loud many times while I was there, smoking and thinking of all sorts of ways I could touch Bobby... Things I would like to make him do. I thought every thought I could that would call BOB to come. I think he was" there, but he was hiding.
So I got very stoned, all by myself, and pushed myself onto the dirt, sliding onto the leaves and pine needles on the ground, and I looked up into the great tree. I wanted the tree to watch me, memorize the face of the new little girl who came to lie down. The old one is gone. She had to go off. I only use her voice sometimes; it is so much easier to get what I want when I say it sweetly, and like a little girl. I took off my clothes and began to touch my b.r.e.a.s.t.s, lick my fingers, and then rub my nipples with the wetness. I made circles the way the boys do with their tongues. I made noises when it felt good. I cried out when I pinched them hard and made them pink.
The wind began to come up, and I felt it move over my bare chest, and I remember saying, "Ohh, whoever that is, I like that... Yes... I like that very much..." I felt myself get a little wet inside my panties. ... so I undressed completely and I talked to BOB out loud, while I touched my secret b.u.t.ton. I said, "BOB... Bobby... Laura has a sweet m.u.f.fin here for you... Nice and clean and... mmmmmmm... I"ll bet it tastes good too... Come out, BOB... come out and play..." The wind picked up, but I never saw BOB.