August 20, 1976 -- In which I cry for Derrick and myself

Why do I cry? I've only met him twice. I've stayed with him once at his house and he had tea here tonight. His parents are happy. He is happy. His sister is happy. But I cry. I cry because chances are, I may never see him again.  He is such a sweet little man. I am crying for a selfish reason. It's all "I". Derrick has cystic fibrosis. He's so m uch like Kevin. His hair's that same shade of brown and he has that same mischievous glint in his eye. Damn death. Why prey on young children? Disease, why?

I suppose I feel like this because I have never come this close [to death]. But why do I cry? It seems cruel to put this to words. I feel like I'll have bad luck. But why do I cry?

Note:
I remember feeling so helpless that Derrick would not live a long life. I remember thinking that he reminded me of my brother, Kevin. That's probably why I cried -- thinking about my brother being in his position.

Derrick did die early, but he lived longer than expected. I think into his 30's.

He's the one on the right, looking at the camera.

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23/24th Novemer, 1974 In which I have a bunch of questions

Saturday/Sunday

I love Jeremy.

What does that mean? "I" means Dona Lee Patrick, that's simple. "Jeremy" is Jeremy Richard Burgyone. But what is love? Pleasure? Security? I didn't get a letter from him this week. When this happens I begin wondering what life without him would be like. Sometimes I use him for a crutch and a reason that I don't date. It is nice having a reason instead of the fact that no one asked me.

"The Sting" — such memories. The song is playing now. "Our song" The first time he put his arm around me was during this song. We kissed during this song in England. When I remember our happy times together I know I couldn't live without him. I shall never love another human being as I love him. I want to have his children, but I'm frightened. I think about death a lot. Jeremy's death, my own. That I have some terminal illness or he was blown up or some terrible thing such as that.

David was back the other day. He hasn't been around for years. I used to conjure up some pretty weird adventures for us to go on. Being spys and scuh. Funny thing though, we never kissed or anything in my fantasies but when he came back we were quite intimate. He was my imaginary crutch in Junior High. Then I thought I had Gary. Then I just suffered, knowing that imaging was getting me nowhere. Sometimes now I wish I could date. But not often as I hate large parties. I want to go out with some guy and make out with him in a car — sometimes. But that wave of "sexual desire" fades fast and I'm myself again, writing to Jeremy in letters filled with love. I love him very much. I shall never cease.

Note:
More angst filled questions, probably brought on by studying psychology at an early age.

David is another story. An embarrassing one at that. In Junior High school I pretended I was dating David Henesey from Dark Shadows. I'm pretty sure I only pretended to myself, not to the general public. The only time I really remember prentending this was during chorus. I had no singing vocie, so would concentrate on my imagenary boyfriend — David — while I squawked.