TUESDAY 24 JANUARY 1989

I’m scared. I can’t sleep.

I keep going out to the kitchen to check the stained glass in the back door — it looks a lot like Jesus. Maybe I should go down to the river. I could take a torch. Perhaps Petra & I left something from childhood behind — a sign.

I don’t feel so good. Aching all over, especially my back. Probably from running up & down the road too much — I need to do more exercise, lose some weight. I’m hot & cold. My head hurts. I can’t sleep. I’m scared.

FRIDAY 27 JANUARY 1989

I can’t remember writing that last entry. I’ve been sick. Must have been a fever. A lot of weird dreams: strange lands & creatures, winding roads, rainbow fish jumping in glittery waters.

Not doing much. Reading a book of Sylvia Plath’s poetry. Writing poems, but now realise that I don’t know how to write a poem. I don’t understand the different forms, & my words are contrived, flat, rhythmless.

SATURDAY 28 JANUARY 1989

Slept over at Petra’s last night — first time I’ve been into town, or even out of the house, this week. Saw Dean driving past in the stupid blue-&-green Cola Hardware pick-up truck while Petra & I were sitting by the lake today. Of course, Petra had to scream out to him. He waved, but I turned my face away so he wouldn’t see me, but I’m sure he did. I suddenly didn’t want to see him — not then, not in town, not in the daylight.