March 2. 2025

Today’s choir practice was good. It felt okay just being out of the grind of everything. I feel stretched or maybe squashed—something like that. Everything moves forward so fast, and I feel like I’m not moving along with it—the world.

Tonya has quit the choir. That feels strange. She’s always been there; now, it’s just me left.

It’s a strange feeling.

I’m turning eighteen later this year; maybe it’s time I stopped writing a diary and perhaps live.

March 10. 2025

Okay, I said I would stop writing…but right now, I need someone to listen. Someone who’ll listen without… I don’t even know what I expect. I guess that’s why I keep a diary.

I don’t even know how to start, so I’ll get to it. Tonya told me why she left the choir. She can’t really do Sundays anymore, she said. I didn’t understand. I never seem to understand anymore.

She’s started drinking. Partying. Doing…naughty stuff.

I know the Bible says not to, and one shouldn’t. But this is Tonya! She’s always been, I don’t know…bold, daring…pushing herself forward.

I don’t know. I just feel…more stuck.

March 11. 2025

I had to try. I talked to her. I’ve always been able to talk to her. I said I missed her at choir practice and would be so happy if she returned. Maybe…not push boundaries so much.

“I can’t go back to that,” was her exact words.

But it was more. It was so much more.

She said she has plans for Saturday…to step fully over that line. It was so…raw, brutal. Disgusting.

“I’m gonna suck him off in his car,” she said.

I don’t even know what to do. Maybe it’s time to let her go.

March 14. 2025

Perhaps I’m the idiot, the outcast, the one who’ll be left behind after graduation. I watch everyone else grow into themselves. Boys becoming men, girls becoming women. Me? I’m writing in my diary when Friday night comes.

Alice Caldwell. There’s someone. She walks through the world unscratched. Her weird father, Professor Caldwell, must have done something right. I envy her.

It’s not that anyone treats me any differently.

Tonya is Tonya.

She…there’s just something in her eyes.

March 17. 2025

I feel so detached. I don’t even know where to begin.

I’ll start with Tonya. She went through with it! And she was so proud and eager! She had even let him touch her…not there, but her chest. And she had rubbed herself against him and taken him in her mouth. Until he…unspeakable…but I couldn’t even stop myself from asking.

“How was it?”

I feel dirty for even asking. For thinking it. But Tonya? She just smiled. And she didn’t even answer.

“You should try, Allison.”

I felt sick. I still do.

But the way she looked at me…

On top of that, there’s a rumor that David Sheperd was kicked out. I hope it’s just another cruel story the boys made up. I wish they’d let him be.

I can’t stop thinking about Tonya. In the mouth? I see why she can’t sing with me anymore.

March 18. 2025

I still follow in her shadow. She seems to move so much faster than me. Faster by the day.

I find it difficult to concentrate. School feels tight. Because everyone is pulling free.

Except me.

March 19. 2025

I went to church today.

I sat there and listened. I was promised he’d listen and give answers.

Does He even know what it is to be seventeen?

March 23. 2025

Tonya phoned me last night. She was intoxicated. Her speech was not hers. She giggled. She said she wished I was with her.

Why does she go places I can’t follow?

I don’t even know if she was with her boyfriend or with just…any friend.

“I’m about to become a woman, Allison!”

She hasn’t returned my calls today.

Choir eased my mind.

But now, when I should sleep, her voice haunts me.

“I’m about to become a woman.”

March 24. 2025

Everyone’s moving forward! Even David Shepherd seems changed. More focused, more aware. More present. He’s kind. Or at least, he has a kindness about him.

Tonya? She’s leaving me. And it hurts. I know I should set her free. It’s just…I’ve known her for so long, and now? Now, we don’t fit in the same square anymore.

And who am I without her?

March 25. 2025

I haven’t been honest with you.

There are some things…

Mom can never find this diary.

It’s not like I haven’t done it before. They teach us in school. It’s part of change; it’s part of becoming.

But the Bible says it’s sinful.

It helps me feel less stressed, confused, and out of touch.

At least for a while. I’ve done it before. But not like this.

I whispered her name!

I feel so ashamed. But…I also feel…so good.

March 26. 2025

I did it again today.

In front of the mirror.

I regret it.

March 31. 2025

I feel so alone.

Tonya’s weekends are spiraling out of control. She had two men on the weekend. At the same time. And there is no shame to be found in her telling. I feel drawn in and pushed out at the same time.

She won’t let me let her go. She pulls me in, even when I hold back. I stared at her today; I don’t think she noticed.

I stared at her breasts. They’re so full, round. She shaves her sex. Thursday is gym class. And I know I have to see her in the shower.

Do I call her name when I rub myself because…I want to feel what she does on her weekends?

School is hell. I’m suffocating.

David, out of all people, sees me. He helps me.

There’s something cute about him.

April 1. 2025

I do it all the time! Today, it was the first thing I did when I got home. In the bathroom, on the floor next to the toilet. Mother called for dinner, and I was busy…with me. She must have known when I came downstairs.

It lay thick on my skin!

I just did it again. I smell sick of me. And I refuse to wash.

April 7. 2025

So much has happened.

I thought if I didn’t write them here, they’d not be real.

I fear God.

I lingered on Tonya in the shower. I watched the water ripple from her body; her long, black hair clung to every curve of hers. She is so stunning. Her breasts? Full and round, not at all like mine. I know. I’ve spent hours looking at them in the mirror.

I’m obsessed with my body. She asked me on Friday if I wanted to come out with her on the weekend. I ached to say yes, but…I can’t follow her. She looks at me differently. Pity?

I can’t stop rubbing myself.

I can’t get her image out of my head.

Her sex is entirely naked, smooth, and she moves like she’s proud of it.

I went to the store at the corner of Main Street. I couldn’t linger outside, so I headed in. It was sin after sin after sin. But I ended up buying a…silicone toy.

It was shame in a pink package and brown paper bag. It wouldn’t fit my bag, so I wore it like a mark of shame, sin, guilt, and condemnation trhough the entire city—Jesus with the cross.

It felt like Mother knew, something in her voice. Father? I didn’t even answer his hello as I shamed myself upstairs.
It even smelled of sin, sin, sin, when I opened it. Why do they make them smell like that?
I could not, would not. I rubbed myself, but it sat on my bed, staring at me.

It consumed me like rubbing myself already had.

But it didn’t feel right. I didn’t look right. I’m hairy and messy down there.
Not anything like Tonya. I’m obsessing, sorry, but these are the only pages that will listen.

I fear God.

I fear I’m a girl who likes girls.

April 8. 20025

I refuse to consume myself any longer. Mother’s stare, Father’s voice. They accused me at dinner today.

“You’re spending much time in your room lately. Is everything okay?”

They know! They know!

I’m seventeen; I’m graduating. This is so much.

I’m so far behind. Tonya, David, and Charlotte. Those are my allies to pull me through. I don’t get math. I think I’m safe with everything else.

I’ve studied biology with too much interest lately. No more.

I wish Tonya stopped brushing her hand against me. I don’t think she means to. I don’t think she knows I like it.

She mustn’t know.

April 9. 2025

Two days of not touching myself.

I’m not a girl who likes girls. I’m just insecure. It’s okay to be insecure.

God tests us.

And I pray.

April 10.

It turns out the rumors about David are true. I can’t imagine. The strangest thing, though, is that I heard he was living in Alice Caldwell’s house.

It’s nice of Professor Caldwell to take him in, but it’s strange to think that David and Alice live in the same house. He still rides the bus from his old house.

That’s strange.

Maybe I’m not the only one with problems.

And still, he’s so kind.

We had gym class today.

Tonya smells nice, but let’s keep it secret.

April 11. 2025

Gym class two days in a row. I’m fit, at least. I don’t fumble and drop the ball.

Until I’m in the showers at least. They’ve all grown so comfortably into their bodies that it’s like they don’t even menstruate.

I menstruate in pain and sickness. In front of everyone.

Why is it always Tonya that comes to my rescue? And if this is biology, why did they laugh?

She touched me while we were both naked.

She didn’t feel it like I did.

I’m still confused.

April 14. 2025

What’d you do on the weekend, Allison?

I menstruated. Bled. And was sick.

How about you?

High school is so ruthless. I cling to her like a fly stuck to glue, and every time I try to pull away, she’s somehow there.

Tonya’s weekend?

She hooked up with a married man! That’s her words.

“I hooked up.”

At a hotel, out of town. He had bought her things. Not only pretty things to show, to gloat but…things to wear. That night. I didn’t want to hear the details. But she told me anyway about ropes and gags.

He’s married! I told her. I asked if he had children, and she didn’t even care. And she wouldn’t stop talking.

He had done her, back there, and it had hurt. But showing me her ring, she said it was worth it.

She’s just…I don’t know.

But that’s not what scares me.

I want to rub my bleeding, dirty hole.

April 16. 2025

I stopped bleeding, and I ran home from school to sin. I rubbed every tension out of me, but it still ached. I could smell it from the drawer of my nightstand.

It was pink and slightly curved, and I trembled when I put it inside me. I’d done fingers before; this was foreign and consuming. It hurt at first. Real bad and I bled a little more. And I couldn’t stop.

My bush was wet with me when I finished. I can’t remember if I’d made any sound, but I heard Mother washing her hands in the bathroom next door.

Why can’t I control myself? Or is this what every girl does away from everything?

I don’t think so. Should I ask Tonya?

Absurd. Tonya doesn’t need to know. She can’t.

April 17. 2025

Gym class again. I watched them all in the shower and compared and measured my own chest against theirs, the curve of their behinds, how some trimmed while others, like Tonya, just kept themselves smooth.

Others were more like me. Hairy.

I went back to church today.

I sat there for a long time.

I’ll go by on the way to school tomorrow.

It’s peaceful there.

April 18. 2025

Some days are different than others. Some girls are different than others.

I’m glad I stopped by church today. His gospel is the way. I could stand back from her shadow and breathe a little.

The showers. They’re all created in God’s image, and so am I. He might have had an off day when he created me, but I’m sure he’ll lead the way.

There’s something comforting and settling in growing up in a town like ours.

David managed to make some sense of my math problems today. It would be nice if all the boys were as easy to talk to as he is. Even Tonya keeps asking him for help.

Strangely, I’ve never noticed him before.

He smells strangely of lavender and something earthy, but I guess staying at Caldwell’s house does that to you.

April 19. 2025

Mother and Father are away this weekend. Without them, the house feels bigger, lonelier, and almost ominous.

They left shortly after breakfast and won’t return until tomorrow afternoon.

I guess this is what utter loneliness feels like.

April 19. 2025 afternoon

I needed to know, so I got on Dad’s computer. We’ve discussed it in school, the internet, browsing, and the filth to be found.

I wanted to know more about my body. The female sex comes in so many different shapes and forms.

But between every search I made, pages upon pages of people having sex. I’m not an idiot; I know it’s out there. You only need to sit close enough to Dwight Wright and his guys to know.

I didn’t realize how easy it was to get it in your own house. People have sex and offer it freely to anyone with an internet connection.

In the mouth. Always in the mouth first. Sometimes, the men would do the women down there, but most of the time, they’d wait until the women let them out of their mouths and pushed themselves into them. And the women would shift, turn, from behind.

Some allowed them to take them in the other hole.

Some let many men take them. I couldn’t watch that.

But always they finished in the mouth.

Tonya told me she had done it.

All of the women were smooth.

The hairy ones had their own tags.

But I lingered on the categories.

Lesbian.

Girl on girl.

I sat in Dad’s chair and touched myself. I didn’t even have to rub. I left a stain.

I deleted the browser history, but now, alone in bed, the images can’t be erased.

The things they did to and with each other.

Girls liking girls.

Unbothered.

April 20. 2025

I’ve tried everything. The stain on Dad’s chair won’t go away. It’s a telltale, a slanderous witness, and he’ll know what I did.

That’s why I brought a towel today.

I just needed to see once more.

Black girls, Asian girls, white girls. Some looked fake. I didn’t like watching them. No fascination with F-cup breasts that didn’t move or lips that covered half their faces. They looked scrambled, distorted, and alien.

Black girls were fascinating. A different physique altogether.

There were other categories. Objects. It looked painful, but I still lingered at their faces.

I must have spent myself three or four times, and I couldn’t stop myself until I heard the car pull into the driveway.

I’d been naked. I closed the browser, turned the computer off, and ran upstairs to the shower.

I have to remember to delete the browser history when they’re sleeping.

April 21. 2025

Father was furious that I missed choir practice yesterday. How could I forget, he asked. I scrambled for a lie that would be plausible and that I couldn’t forget.

I told him I had felt hot and dazed.

I couldn’t explain the stain on his chair with hot and dazed. I had spilled. What was I doing on his computer? School stuff.

I’m just glad I got up in the middle of the night to delete the browsing history. He didn’t need to see “High School Girls in Fever 3”.

What’s wrong with me?

I almost asked Tonya how she kept so smooth. But that’d be letting her know I know. And I shouldn’t.

Why is she so comfortable just being her?

She had new earrings today.

She was so blunt about it.

It was to repair her butthole.

She giggled when she said it.

April 23. 2025

I’m a girl who likes girls.

I’m sure God will find a way, or I’ll burn for eternity.

I asked Mother and Father for my own computer today. I need it for school. It’s not even a lie. Every kid has one.

Besides, it saves Dad’s chair from being ruined.

I snuck downstairs last night to watch.

I masturbate while watching other women have sex. Sex feels good.

I can’t deal with sitting on edge listening for footsteps as I flood into a towel anymore.

And I can’t be going through every school day worrying about remembering to delete browser history.

I pulled my hair down there last night. It was painful and delightful at the same time.

Some girls do each other’s buttholes. Mine hurts when I try.

April 24. 2025

Forgive me, Father, for I will sin. I studied the black girls at school today in the shower. Stacey has a small, curly bush, and Devonne is completely slick. Their sexes are fuller; their folds are bigger, and their clits don’t seem to fit inside. It must rub—all day.

But Alice Caldwell? She’s something else. I hadn’t noticed before, but she…

She rubs herself in plain sight and doesn’t seem to care.

She almost caught me with those green eyes. She’s red down there as well—just a tiny strip against her pale skin.

I don’t care if I’m going to hell. I need to exist in this lifetime.

April 25. 2025

Apparently, I’m never leaving the choir. I’m also attending church on Saturdays. That’s the price for a computer in our house.

Tonya looked at me today. Long and hard. She had just asked me about my weekend plans and that I couldn’t accompany her. She had gotten a text from that man, and she wasn’t seeing him anymore. She wondered if I wanted to catch a movie with her.

I probably could if it was in between church and dinner, but…I couldn’t stand the thought of sitting alone with her in the dark…feeling the way I do. About beautiful girls turning into women.

April 26. 2025

Church used to feel like peace. Because I never really listened to the words. God isn’t love. It’s love in his image or, rather, theirs.

Suffocating is more like it. Love between man and woman.

Because Christ said so.

I’m an anomaly.

Did I say growing up in this town was a blessing?

It’d better be a good computer.

April 26. 2025 (night)

Tonya just Facetimed me. “Hey, girlfriend,” were her words, but it wasn’t her voice. She was in the back of some car. Her speech was slurred, and her eyes weren’t really there. She told me she had phoned because she had missed me.

Then she pulled up her top and let some guy rub his penis against her. The image blurred, and then she was gone.

Is this what I’m supposed to be doing on a Saturday night?

Should I send her a picture of the slim, pink dildo inside me? Should I take photos of myself? Would anyone want to watch them like I watch theirs?

Why is my crotch on constant fire? What does it take to get some relief?

April 27. 2025

I watched the video I took of myself last night again this morning.

I don’t look like those girls. Not even those categorized under hairy. I look clumsy and absolutely undesirable.

Revolting.

I stumbled upon something under “Ugly”

“Ugly girl inserts bottle.”

At least she could prove some worth.

That tiny pink silicone toy? It doesn’t stretch me like they stretch under each other’s fingers, even. It should fit in my butthole, yet it doesn’t.

My hair covers the insides of my thigh and stretches down to my butthole. I have choir practice in half an hour, but I’ve been crying in front of the mirror for the past two.

My breasts are okay; they’re just small—nothing like Tonya.

I sent a text asking if she was okay. She just replied in one word.

Hungover.

I’m off to sing praises to Jesus now. I’m just going to delete that video first.

May 7. 2025

It’s been a while. I’ve been in a dark place. The church doesn’t help much; it just makes it darker.

I haven’t touched myself since I watched.

I have no desire to.

School’s okay. It's better now that I’m focused. I told Tonya I can’t go where she goes. She understood, but she was sad. You’ll always be my girl, she promised.

We’re a month away from graduating. She’s off into the world. I’m up for failure. Dad says he wants me to step into a role at the bakery.

He’ll have to wrap me in a hairnet.

May 10. 20025

Tonya phoned me today. She was crying. She told me our Wednesday conversation didn’t sit well with her. She reminded me of how we have known each other our entire lives, and just because she was being reckless didn’t mean we couldn’t be friends. I’m going over to her place later. To talk.

May 10. 2025 (afternoon)

Church? Let me get to church in a minute.

Tonya is different when she’s around just me. When I came over, she hugged me and pulled me upstairs and into her room without the usual pleasantries with her parents. She sat me on her bed, and the first thing she wondered was where my smile had gone.

I told her I was afraid of failing—high school.

She told me she’d help me pull through.

I told her…about my body and how it didn’t fit me.

She told me I was beautiful.

I told her I was hairy and ugly.

She giggled. Not out of spite. Friendly. And agreed I was hairy.

“Some men like that.”

I wanted to ask her if she did, but why would she? Why would she even care?

She talked about waxing but landed on a “No” for now.

She told me she was glad we had the talk and brushed a fallen strand of hair from my face.

“You could use a hint of makeup, perhaps?”

I smiled.

She promised she’d bring some stuff to school on Monday, for my problem.

I said I’d get back to the church thing. It was nothing major; I just noticed most people were old. And they looked angry.

The ones my age just looked miserable.

May 12. 2025

I didn’t feel like writing yesterday. But I do now.

Tonya pulled me into the girl’s room before school even started this morning. She had a bag of stuff.

She called it a hair trimmer, fast and efficient for the worst job. Then, she offered different solutions to the rest. Razors can leave a burn or rash, and creams likewise, especially if I have sensitive skin—I don’t even know—or waxing.

The first one’s the worst, she warned. The trick is keeping up. She rushed like a fountain.

“If you’d like, I could help you,” she said with a wink and a giggle.

So, yeah…there was that.

David sat with us during math today. He has incredibly soft hands. And a way of putting things, unlike Mr. Stephens’ monotone mass. I might get a grip on all this.

Tonya keeps brushing her hand against me. It tingles.

So, now I think I’ve clogged the sink. Yes. I did it!

The machine buzzed so loudly in my bathroom that I was sure Mother would hear from downstairs. I tried the hair removal cream, but even its smell was repulsive. So, I went for the razor.

I didn’t realize stubble was so stubborn. I cut myself twice. I’m not sure if I got my entire buttcrack, but at least I’m slick up front.

I’m waiting for the sound of Dad’s snoring. I’ve loaded up my browser. I’m going to rub myself like never before. I’m so slick it hurts.

May 13. 2025

I went to sleep with one thing and woke up with another. I’m covered in small, red, prickly things. They’re tender to the touch. Got to go to school. Will ask Tonya.

May 13. 2025 (afternoon)

So, yeah, Tonya laughed. Not cruel. She asked me how I’d done it. I told her, and she nearly wet herself laughing. She told me I was supposed to be gentle and do it with the hairs and not against them. She could have told me yesterday!

She offered no solution.

Wait and repeat. The first time’s a bitch.

I’m sore and…

Dare I say it?

Horny.

May 14. 2025

I’m sore and horny.

And whisper her name.

Every time.

May 14. (Night, technically the 15.)

I think my parents are having sex.

I don’t think I’ve ever heard that sound in our house.

But it sounds something like the videos, without the shrieks.

There are just grunts.

Strange.

I’m prickly but not as sore.

May 15. 2025

Itchy.

Itchy bitchy spider.

Itchy bitchy spider crawling on my groin.

Tonya told me to repeat, so I’m off to the bathroom after this. I’m trying the razor one more time. After that, it’s either the cream of a career under “Hairy”.

Is it even supposed to itch this much?

I’ve been wondering all day.

What is the sound of sex?

Is it what they do on my computer?

Or is it what I heard last night?

On me...it’s soft panting and slick moisture—something like a honey spoon gliding through a brimming jar. 

May 16. 2025

I ache for her.

Whenever I look at her for too long, there’s just tumbleweeds in my head.

I’ve read about love in books. It doesn’t translate well into letters.

It hurts.

And knowing we’re four weeks from graduation hurts.

She’s not built like me; I accept that, but I’ll follow in her footsteps until I drown.

Until I drown. Yes. That’s what it feels like.

May 17. 2025

I touched myself in church today to see if I could get away with it. I got wet quickly, and it felt naughty to flip through the Psalm book with my wetness. I’ll do it again next week.

I could test how far I can push myself.

Maybe by summer, I can cream the uncomfortable benches.

I’ll let you know.

May 18. 2025

The choir is a charade. And all the girls sound like they’re orgasming like the girls in those videos. The guys? The bass?

I only heard that through the wall.

I’m an anomaly. And I’m glad.

I wouldn’t have noticed such things before.

“Sweet Jesus,” they sang.

Just like the girls in the videos.

I shaved again today. Now, my fingers trace.

School tomorrow. And Tonya.

May 19. 2025

I think David Shepherd is a boy who likes boys.

He’s just different somehow. The way he listens, the way he speaks. The way his touch feels when I brush against him. He’s always clean-shaven and smells nice under that layer of lavender.

I even…dared ask him today.

“Not really.”

What kind of answer is that?

Then I got weird.

I said it would be a shame if he was and that he’s cute and not stupid. I realized I was flirting with him!

I asked him on a date!

And he said no…

No…he said, “I can’t.”

Perhaps he’s searching for me under “Ugly.”

Possibly, he’s actually gay.

Maybe, he told the truth. He loves Alice.

Unreturned.

I felt that.

And I told him to let me know if things change.

Maybe I’m not a girl who likes girls. Exclusively.

May 20. 2025

I wince under her stare.

Under her touch.

Under the sound of her voice.

Because each time could be the last.

How do you tell your best friend that you like her?

Want her?

Desire her?

And that every day you run home to rub yourself under her name?

It was different today.

On the bathroom floor, I could hear the clatter of visitors downstairs. My bathroom is small, but I fit. I perched a mirror against the toilet seat and watched myself.

On all fours

Sliding the pink rubber penis…cock…in and out.

I wasn’t masturbating.

I was fucking myself.

And when I finished, I trembled hard. I moaned, muffled against the floor.

And I took the toy in my mouth like the girls in those videos. It smells better with me on it.

I don’t even feel dirty.

Only slightly when Mother knocked at the door.

I think I’m going to film myself again tonight.

May 21. 2025

Unhinged.

Exams start next week, and I’m not ready. I should be studying. Somehow, I am.

That video was a different Allison Goldberg.

I’m small, tight, tiny.

But I’m also hot.

Ever thought, “Yeah, I’d do me?”

Those sites.

Some of them allow you to upload your own videos.

I didn’t.

But…I thought about it. And the idea makes me hot.

May 22. 2025

I’m a strange little girl in a strange little body in a strange little town in the Midwest.

I know my Bible, but I read it in my own strange little way.

I shower with beautiful women staring at my bare sex.

The last was just a wish.

But Tonya looked.

And Tonya smiled.

My pussy (there! I said it!).

My pussy is Tonya approved.

May 23. 2025

I’m trying not to obsess. But it’s hard not to.

I know it’s hormones.

But it isn’t.

Not really.

I’m becoming more of me and less of what they expect.

Who are they?

That’s the thing. Even “they” are mostly a construct of my own mind. Because I’ve been told this and told that, then that’s how everyone should see me.

But they haven’t seen me at all, Mother.

They haven’t noticed me, Father.

I’ve just been floating through the world, invisible. There are no stories written about Allison Goldberg. I’m the one they’d flip over in the yearbook.

Perhaps they’d linger on a question.

“Oh, yeah. Allison. I wonder what happened to her.”

I don’t want to be un-remembered like that.

I don’t want to be the girl that menstruated in the shower.

Lunch is that time of day when I breathe fully. Tonya, always Tonya, and David. He’s just slipped in. Being kicked out is the best thing that ever happened to him.

Living under Professor Caldwell’s roof has changed him.

I hope he’s not a boy who likes boys. Not in this town.

There’s no room for people like us in this town.

Masturbating in the dark.

Only…

I do it with the lights on and the camera rolling.

I’d be a good slut.

I crave the word as it’s written.

If someone let me.

May 24. 2025

I touched myself in church again today.

Mother, I forgot to wear panties. My dress rolled up, and my legs were slightly spread, enough for a finger.

I let it inside today. I looked at Jesus as I flipped the pages of the Psalm book. Some girls like to be bound. Do they ever use a cross?

“Sweet Jesus.”

May 25. 2025

I skipped choir practice today.

Exams, Father. I need to study.

I phoned Tonya. We talked, and even though we ran out of conversation, I kept her talking. To hear her voice.

My hand drifted as we spoke.

She must have noticed. She asked if I was okay. I lied and told her I was just a bit tired.

Worried about exams.

Worried about graduating.

I didn’t tell her I touched myself to her voice because I don’t know if I ever will again.

Exams.

Grading people by what they know. On a given day. I could be menstruating, and the world would say, “Bad luck.”

What was your biggest accomplishment?

I menstruated through English.

I need to be more than an egg carrier, discarding myself one egg at a time.

I don’t even have my period. I’m just saying.

May 26. 2025

Well.

I don’t know what to write today, but I’ll write anyway. Maybe someday, my future self will read these entries and laugh or cry.

I hope she says I did all right after all.

Exams. English. No menstruating.

It went okay.

I waited for Tonya. We went to McDonalds.

She smells so good.

“What are you doing? After all of this?”

We always talked about after, but it was just…girls talking.

We’ve been so much throughout the years.

Hairdressers, dentists, veterinarians, firefighters, medics…

And all I had to offer her were three words.

“I don’t know.”

Maybe I have a future in porn.

Anything to get away from here.

Yeah, imagine that interview.

“Any past experience, Miss Goldberg.”

“I fuck myself with a small, pink cock. Almost daily.”

May 27. 2025

The days in between. It’s limbo.

My body reacts to different days in different ways.

Not feeling it tonight. My pink friend gets to rest.

May 27. 2025 (later)

Is this all I am? A girl documenting how often she pleases herself?

May 27. 2025 (much later)

I couldn’t sleep, so I invited Mr. Pink over. I think I’ll replace him with something different. I tried rubbing against my butthole while he was inside me.

It felt nice.

May 28. 2025

He failed as well, I suppose, Sam Cooke.

Either that, or he time-traveled inside my head.

Don’t know much about history.

Staring at a blank page. Writing down the small remnants of four years of meaningless history. Shrinking everything I am down to one day of self-realization. If you don’t know the dates of our great country, your worth is nothing to us.

Tonya waited for me with a “What took you so long” look in her eyes.

I felt almost ashamed as we bought ice cream.

She told me how “nice” this is.

We walked down to Tumblers Lake. She told me that’s where she’d learned to swim.

I asked her if she didn’t have better things to do.

She looked at me and told me no.

“No, today I have nothing better to do than to hang with my girl.”

I’d better learn how to fuck.

Fuck so good a good man will have me.

So, I bought a sturdier cock.

 More life-like, with a suction cup.

May 29. 2025

I was supposed to be a good girl and study today. Science.

Science is about seeing how the pieces fit together.

I think I have a grasp on science.

Mother and Father.

Mom and Dad are both at work. I can turn up the sound and just be.

Some of the girls in the videos take two men at once, some more… The new toy smelled just as repulsive as the old one did, but it was sturdy on the floor and wiggled slightly.

“Life-like,” it said on the packaging.

I felt bad for Mr. Pink, so he came along.

I don’t understand how they fit it all inside. I gagged just by trying.

If the new cock is life-like, I’m queer.

It just hurt. Maybe I wasn’t in the right mood.

“Ugly girl takes bottle” was in the right mood. She wanted that…pain?

I’ll give it another try later or tomorrow.

What if I can’t fuck?

I can’t even remember having looked at boys that way. Cocks are repulsive, and if that’s what it feels like to have one inside you?

I guess the bakery ain’t that bad.

I can get cats.

Once Mom and Dad are gone.

I can grow old.

And no one will even flip through that yearbook anymore.

May 30. 2025

Dear diary,

We’re halfway to the end. French? The language of love. I guess that’s why it’s so foreign to me. I did all right,

Je m'appelle Allison. J'ai dix-sept ans. Et je suis seule.

I hope the future me still understands me.

Maybe only the age will change.

Tonya begged me to come with her to the movies. She hasn’t been out drinking lately; she just wanted things to feel normal before they stop being at all.

She knows it, too.

I want to be accepted to college. I want to move forward, but I’m not even sure if that’s a possibility. I’m seventeen, and the world asks me what I intend to be.

And I don’t even know how to fuck.

Part of me wants to sneak out into the night. See what’s out there. See if I’m found desirable. I can struggle through their gropes, their pulls. Their cocks. If they’d even see me.

If they’d see me, they could fuck me.

I’m the last virgin on earth. There’s something utterly broken in that.

May 31. 2025

Church again.

You know I did it.

I didn’t even feel like it, but I kept a promise to myself.

Virgin Mary looked down at me from her wall. She’s sat there for ages looking down on all of us. She was a vessel.

Did she even think about being fucked.

She must have been seventeen and curious.

Why is this consuming me so bad?

Why am I longing to lock myself in the bathroom and force myself to fuck that rubber cock. To make myself fit.

Because I want her hands on me. Her touch. Like those girls in the videos.

I want the sound of sex to be what they do.

Not the pain I’m about to do to myself.

June 1. 2025

I’m sore, but I did it.

I watched porn on my computer and let myself be one of them. I took it all inside me, and it hurt like hell.

At first.

But they helped me over that because I wanted to feel like they looked.

I pushed a finger in my butt. It was strange. Dirty. I don’t really understand it, but those girls seem to.

I like watching the men’s release come out of them. I don’t know; it’s just fascinating. I had some release, but it felt…manipulated? Not my own?

But I feel better.

Because I can bend myself into it and make myself desirable.

And that opens so many options besides the bakery.

Not with her. I know that.

But maybe some man can change me, given the opportunity.

And that, dear diary, is up to me. I just have to put myself out there. That’s my summer plan. If I don’t have to go to summer school.

June 2. 2025

And what if, dear diary, I go through with that?

What if a man desires me, makes me his, have me carry his children?

Not all marriages are happy; I’m not stupid; I know that.

But would it make me miserable?

Nothing about Tonya makes me miserable. She…

Today was nice.

I asked her about masturbation.

It was whispered across a restaurant table. I call it a restaurant. McDonald’s advertises as such.

She said she did it more often in the summer. She said she hadn’t as much when she was out with boys. Or…after.

She said she didn’t feel like it after. And that’s why she’s stopped doing it. Not touching herself.

Boys.

She said she considered coming back to the choir, at least until college. I told her not to. I’m quitting that charade.

I asked her what it tasted like—the men…in her mouth.

“Broken promises.”

She didn’t even laugh.

June 3.

I stayed in bed all day—or at least as long as I could. When they got home, I had dried my hair out of the shower.

Math tomorrow. The one thing I know I’ll fail. I haven’t even bothered opening a book. I wouldn’t even know where to start.

I stood in front of the mirror.

It’s the only time I feel whole.

Naked in front of the mirror.         

June 4. 2025

Where to begin…

I perched my phone up to get the right angle last night. In my bathroom.

I let myself become a…

I slid myself onto it. Let it sting. I let the pink one poke at my butthole. You only see my face in that video when I turn to look at my phone to make sure it’s recording, to make sure it catches the details. That’s the only time you see my tears.

I learned to move my hips. I’m not going to say it felt nice. But my body took over. I hadn’t noticed last night, but the sound of my body echoed through the room. And it was intense when I released.

I look just like them in that video.

And I cleaned the toys with my mouth—both of them.

My knees are sore.

I wonder if Tonya’s knees were sore.

I failed math.

June 4. I failed at a future.

June 7. 2025

I know why I keep fucking myself.

I punish myself for my desires.

I sat almost at the back of church today, alone. I told Mom and Dad I connect better in solitude.

I masturbated through the entire spectacle.

But I didn’t cum.

Cum.

Cum.

What does it even mean?

Cum.

Whore.

Dick.

Cock.

Pussy.

One final week of high school.

Fuck.

Drenched.

Slit, twat, fuck-pocket.

She’ll be gone in just a week. I’ll see her over the summer until she leaves.

She’ll be home for Christmas.

Changed.

I’m tired. I think I’ll go to sleep shortly.

June 9. 2025

I’m clinging to her. She must notice. But she just smiles.

I divorced him today.

A dirty little secret wrapped in so much guilt.

“Broken promises.”

Discarded in the trash.

I kept the pink one.

I forgot earlier. I aced biology.

Because it’s everything I’m not.

I don’t desire to be a vessel to ensure the survival of mankind.

I’m not sure we deserve to survive as a species.

If a small high school in the middle of fucking nowhere can seed so much cruelty, why would I want to explore anywhere else?

Perhaps it’s the dream of something bigger.

I know why they keep us at school this week. It’s all about making sure they break us. I don’t care. Tonya’s still here every morning. And she’s only waiting for me.

June 10. 2025

I love her.

June 10. 2025 (Afternoon)

It’s torment.

June 10. 2025 (Night)

I spent the evening at the park. With her.

I should talk to her.

There were moments.

She brushed the hair out of my face.

“I’m going to miss your pretty face,” she said.

Then she found her makeup, and I let her paint me.

Subtle.

Eyes popping.

A little color to my cheeks.

A slight gloss to my lips.

Her touch.

I wish she were a girl who liked girls.

But you don’t ask your best friend that.

June 11. 2025

I’ve decided to masturbate whenever I feel like it.

Like after a day spent with Tonya.

At least I can masturbate about it.

I wonder if I’ll masturbate to her voice when she leaves.

Masturbate.

Finger.

As a verb.

Girls do it all the time.

Masturbate.

It’s lonely.

But it’s comforting.

Finger.

It’s more intense, I suppose—more…a need than a desire.

I keep writing because I can’t sleep. Can’t.

Cunt.

Cunt.

That’s a repulsive word.

“Who’s that cunt?”

Imagine being objectified down to such a small, little thing?

“Be a good cunt.”

Is that what they look for in me—us?

“You’re such a tight pussy.”

But only to hear it? Just once?

June 12. 2025

Have you tasted that feeling?

Of being lonely in a crowd?

This week is just strange. A vacuum.

It’s organized chaos orchestrated by the institution.

Tomorrow we’re getting our final grades.

I know I failed math.

We’re fitting gowns for a ceremony I’ll attend, knowing I’m “results are pending.”

That number that scrambles their statistics.

I’m their failure as much as my own.

And yet, only to be loved. Just once.

I’ll be a good cunt for the rest of the week.

I’ll open up and take it.

I’m not even sure I’ll go to the graduation party.

Tony’s house and watch them celebrate their new beginnings?

I might as well stay home and masturbate.

My pussy.

My twat.

My cunt.

I’m such a cunt.

I…

I’m hard on myself. Maybe too much so.

June 13. 2025

I knew it.

And yet I broke down.

I think David failed as well. He looked so lost in Alice’s arms. I wanted to say something, but…

Tonya saw it.

She told me she’d pull me through summer school. She told me, “No one gets left behind.”

I don’t even know if I’ll manage to put myself through it.

But the bakery?

That’s death. I’m not ready for that.

I’ve poked around the internet.

There are ways to get around failing school. Men will pay for what I have. They don’t expect me to enjoy it. It’s a way out.

We’re all getting fucked, one way or the other.

There are other girls like me.

Who like girls like me.

It won’t be Tonya, but maybe someone different?

Better.

Something.

The fitting?

Hahaha!

It’s a gown. It doesn’t have to be pretty.

Because I’ve no one to be pretty for.

June 14. 2025

I thought I’d brace myself for the fall. I was prepared for that.

But…

When I got to school this morning, Tonya pulled me aside. She fixed my hair, fixed my makeup, and adjusted my clothes.

“If this is the end of the road, this is what I want the pictures to remind me of,” she said.

She knows.

But she said she’d look at the pictures.

And remember me like she sees me.

It was grueling.

Receiving a diploma that wasn’t earned.

It wasn’t real.

She told me I have to come to the party.

So, I’m sitting on my bed, all dressed up.

A pretty dress.

I…

Just…

I don’t even own makeup. It’s never been…

It’s not something we do in our house, I suppose.

I’m seventeen, and I have never put makeup on my face.

I should tell her how I feel.

It’s only fair that she knows.

At least she’ll have a reason to leave.

June 15. 2025

I spent the morning crying.

I broke my curfew with a smile.

I’ve been naughty.

 And I’m a scrambled mess trying to put everything into this insignificant book.

The party. I went by myself and met Tonya there. She hadn’t been drinking, she said she was over that. For now. I wish I could have made myself pretty for her, but she pulled me into a bathroom and…transformed me.

I can’t write much about the night…because it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters!

I watched everyone preparing to take the next step into the world, and I…I just wanted that one final goodbye. Wishing them well.

I gazed at her, dancing, flirting, but she sent me those looks saying she’s got my back. Only…she’s never been telling me that. Not at all. I’ve just been too blind.

Keep a secret?

You must keep it secret. I made a promise.

David Shepherd isn’t weird. He doesn’t even exist. I don’t think he ever did. He’s Veronica. Alice’s girlfriend. Alice fucking Caldwell showing up in a police car! Sirens! The full package! And queer as fuck! Alice!

I don’t know what that makes them, I only know I love them both. Veronica she called herself, she came over to my table, and…I thought she was hitting on me.

I can’t remember what she said, but…it was…Tonya came. And Veronica pushed me to ask. And I did!

Tonya loves me! Or, promised to try to learn. Something like that.

We kissed. In front of everyone!

Her lips are nothing like my imagination because my imagination is littered with porn, the Bible, and pictures in a magazine.

I just melted at their touch.

And that’s when I realized. She was David!

No, she used to be. I’ll burn you before you let anyone know!

And then we left!

And it got…messy…fingers, feelings, touches. Burning. She…

She made me a woman.

Under her touch.

But not here, I said.

Did you know the side door to the church is always unlocked?

And in front of Jesus, she made me hers. At least for one night. I had no idea a mouth on me would feel like that.

I still don’t know what sex sounds like, but I know what sex with me sounds like.

Tonya told me it was loud. Spread before the altar, she made me not leak, but spray, and her kiss tasted of me.

Not like from my fingers.

But from how my room smelled after.

Do you even know how much echo a church holds?

I’m a moaner.

And my moans echoed before Christ.

Before the angels and the saints.

And they saw!

And my smell will not have them asking what the wet stain on their carpet is.

I’m not a virgin.

But Mary smirked from the wall.

Tonya fucked me.

And Mary wept in jealousy.

Not for my sin.

But for the lack of her own.

Then she fucked herself.

And they will not question the aroma of their church.

She said she’d phone me later and pick me up.

I hope she lets me...

Do to her.

What she did to me.

June 16. 2025

She picked me up just as Mom and Dad left for church. They…were not happy. But that’s an afterthought.

She waited for them to leave, and then she kissed me.

She didn’t take me to the park, she didn’t take me to McDonalds, or down to the lake. She took me home to her place and pulled me into her bedroom.

She told me to sit on her bed. Then she sat in front of me with a single book in her hand.

“Math. Where does it begin to hurt?”

She took away all the layers of pain and just asked where it began.

Maybe I’ll get through summer school after all.

But it’s not even important.

She didn’t even make any promises about anything.

She’s just as confused as me.

“I just don’t ever want to leave you.”

She likes men. She enjoys them.

“But you’re something different.”

She felt me.

And that’s something a girl can hold onto.

Oh, and her skin is softer than a whisper, and her taste is divine.