From the light in my window he can
see into me
But I cannot see him until he is
close
Breathing, with a smile at my window
He comes to take me
Turn me round and round
Come out and play Come play
Lie still Lie still Lie still.
Little rhymes and little songs
Pieces of the forest in my hair and
clothes
Sometimes I see him near me
when I know he can't be there
Sometimes I feel him near me
and I know it is something just to
bear.
When I call out
No one can hear me
When I whisper, he thinks the
message
Is for him only.
My little voice inside my throat
I always think there must be something
something
That I've done
Or something I can do
But no one no one comes to help,
He says,
A little girl like you.
July 30, 1984
Dear Diary,
Maddy brought a bunch of clothes with her, and she had me try all of them on in front of the mirror. She could tell I was feeling depressed about something... I guess. Some of her clothes are very beautiful. I liked the way they made me feel. Especially the short skirt and the high heels with this little fluffy white sweater.
Maddy said I looked like Audrey Horne. She's the daughter of the man, Benjamin Horne, that my father works for. Benjamin is very very very rich. Audrey is a pretty girl but she's quiet and sometimes mean. Her father doesn't pay much attention to her, and that's probably why she acts that way. He has been very attentive to me, however, all of my life. Each time there is a party or a get-together at the Great Northern, Benjamin puts me on his lap or knee and sings to me softly in my ear. Sometimes I feel very bad for Audrey, because when she sees him singing to me, it must make her sad because she often runs from the room and doesn't come back until her mother makes her. Other times I kind of feel good when she runs off. Like I am the center of attention, and that I am more special to him than his own daughter. I know that isn't nice to say, but I'm just being honest.
To be very honest, I think I like the way I looked in Maddy's clothes too. Something stirred inside me like a bubble. The way you feel on a carousel when you're not used to the up and down of it yet. I'll bet if I dressed this way all the time, things would be very different.
Maddy and I took a walk later on, but of course, in our jeans and T-shirts. Twin Peaks doesn't see many high heels and short skirts without banners all around announcing a dance or festival. We walked to Easter Park and sat in the gazebo for a while. Maddy said that her life at home is fine, "except for the sometimes unbelievable nosiness of my parents." I made sure to quote her exactly there because I thought it was so well put. She said that there are a lot of things in life, she thinks, that don't seem right at first, and then you settle into them.
Maybe that's how I should start thinking. Maybe I should be a better person and not think so much all the time about what is happening to me. I hope someday soon I'll be good enough at this to rid myself of all the things that trouble me so. Things I still cannot even describe other than in bits and pieces. If I am a better person, and if I try harder every day, perhaps all of this will work out.
Love, Laura
July 30, 1984, later
Someday Growing Up Will Come Easier
Deep inside are woman's hills
about to come up
To see the sky
To see the sun and moon
And the tiny stars in the black of a
man's hand
Sometimes in the morning
I'll look across myself
See hills and valleys forming
Think of rivers underground.
Outside me
I am blooming
Inside I am dry
If only I could understand
The reason for my crying
If only I could stop this fear
Of dreaming that I'm dying.
August 2, 1984
Dear Diary,
I haven't written for a long time, and for that I am truly sorry. Maddy left three days ago, and I feel very frightened inside about something I do not understand.
One good thing happened. In the middle of the night last night, I had the most wonderful sensation inside me. Like something warm in my chest, and warm between my legs. My whole body went inside out, it seemed, and I felt like I could just float away. I think I had one of those orgasms in my sleep. It's so awful and so embarrassing to write, but kind of nice at the same time.
Right after it, I had this fantasy that a boy came into my room and put his hand across my nightgown and touched me softly. He whispered nice, gentle things, and then said I had to lie very still or he would leave. Then he pulled me to the end of the bed by my feet, and when my knees were bent over the end of my mattress, he made me close my eyes and I felt him open me up, bigger and bigger, and I had to look to see what was happening, and when I did, he was gone. But I looked at my stomach and I was pregnant. He was inside me, but small like a baby. I wish it hadn't ended like that. I don't know why my brain did that. I liked it better when he was pulling me down gently and taking soft control.
Laura
August 7, 1984
Dear Diary,
I spent the afternoon with Troy today, cleaning him, and brushing and feeding him. I was fascinated by how much he seems to understand how I'm feeling. He nuzzled up against me for a long time while I brushed his mane and head, and when I sat down in the corner of his stall, he lowered his head, and I let him breathe all across my neck and face. I wonder if people fall deeply in love with horses the way I love mine, or if I am wrong to be thinking or feeling any of these things.
I wish Donna were here. I really wish Maddy were here. I'm going to call Donna and see if she can come over for a sleepover or something. Maybe I could go there. That might even be better. Sometimes my bedroom is the best place in the world, and other times it is like a place that closes in and suffocates me.
I wonder if it's like that when you die... suffocating. Or if it's like they say it is when you're in church. That you float up and up until Jesus sees you and takes your hand. I'm not sure I want to be near Jesus when I die. I might make a mistake, even just a small one, and upset him. I don't know enough about him to know what might make him mad. Sure, the Bible says he's forgiving and has died for my sins and loves everyone no matter their faults... but people say I am the perfect daughter, the happiest girl in the world, and one without any troubles. And that is not true at all. So how will I know if Jesus is really like me? Scared and bad sometimes even though most people might not know how and when? I'll probably be a gift to Satan if I am not careful.
Sometimes when I have to see Bob, I think I am with Satan anyway, and that I'll never make it out of the woods in time to be Laura, good and true and pure, ever again. Sometimes I think that life would be so much easier if we didn't have to think about being boys or girls or men or women or old or young, fat or thin... if we could all just be certain we were the same. We might be bored, but the danger of life and of living would be gone...
I'll be back after I call Donna.
Donna said she wishes we could do something together tonight, but her family is having "family night" tonight. I guess it's just me and you, Diary. Maybe we can go out to the woods soon and smoke one of the cigarettes Maddy left for me. There are four of them, and I hid them carefully in the bedpost. That's where I hide notes from school I don't want Mom to find when she's in here cleaning/snooping-you know, mom stuff. I love her, but she doesn't always understand what I try to tell her. She'd probably have a heart attack if she knew all of the things that go on in my head. Anyway, the knob comes off and there is a hole there. Dad would call it a "cavity." I
t is about four inches deep and it is the perfect hiding place. You can't even tell the knob comes off as long as there is a purse strap or sweater over the post.
So maybe we can go out, just you and I, with a flashlight and a cigarette and just talk to each other. I know you, more than even Donna, can keep a secret. I could never tell Mom about the sexy stuff I think about. I'm afraid that if I let it come out of my mouth that God will hear, or that someone will know how bad I am, and they'll say ... Nobody else ever thinks things like that!
I'll bet they don't. I'll bet I'll never get the man I want, because anytime we try to kiss or fool around, he'll think I'm a crazy person who is sick and weird. I hope I'm not. I would be so awfully sad if that were true. How could I stop thinking the way that I do? I can't stop my mind from wanting to think things like that. The thoughts that make my body warm, and my chest go up and down, filling with air and letting go, the way they do in books and movies, but still different, because they never talk about the fantasies I have.
I'm going to go downstairs for dinner now. I wish I could fit you in the bedpost too. For now I will tape you to the wall behind my bulletin board. I hope you won't fall!
More later, Laura
August 11, 1984
Well, Diary,
Here we are. About a mile from home, just before dark. The summer months seem to make the woods less dangerous until later at night. It is warm out, and you and I are sitting together leaning at the base of a great tree. A Douglas fir. Donna's and my favorite. When I look up, it is like the tree is cradling me.
I think I'll smoke that cigarette. I brought a soda just so I could put the ashes and the butt in the can so as not to set the whole town of T.P. on fire. We call Twin Peaks T.P. in school sometimes. The world wipes its butt with T.P. Bobby Briggs says that the most. Then he pulls all the girls' hair and makes burping noises in our faces. He likes us all, of course. I was in the Double R. one day after school and he came in just after me and tugged on my hair super hard.
Norma winked at me and asked if we had set the date for the wedding yet. She's off her rocker if she thinks I go near him. Any boy I go near won't be pulling on my hair like that.... I think he'd pull on my hair the way they do in my fantasies. With their whole hand, slowly making a fist at the back of my head, and pulling me close for a tongue kiss.
I wonder if all penises look the way Dad's does. I can still see Mom trying to cover it with the sheet that night. It sort of reminded me of something raw. Something that might be okay in a while, or was okay a while ago, before someone pulled all of the skin off it and got it looking all pink and weird. Maybe I'll see a nicer one someday. God, I hope I do. I won't lie there like Mom did. Just like a fish on the dock, trying to learn how to breathe out of water. Little tiny huffs and puffs, but nothing else. If I can find the right man, maybe I'll be comfortable enough to act just the way I think girls should when they are with someone. Half in control and half... I don't know the word. Maybe I'm getting too nasty. I would just die if anyone saw what I've written.
The owls have started hooting. One of them is just above me in the tree... Something about him is strange. I know it is a boy owl, and I feel like he's watching me. Each time I look up at him his head moves like he is quickly turning away from me. I wonder if he knows what I've been writing. God, I had better start being a very good girl. Right away. Perhaps he is a bird like in that story I read. This big bird could swoop down and rest on someone's shoulder, acting very sweet, but would then read the person's mind. If the person was thinking bad thoughts, the bird would peck away at the person's eyes and ears so that there would only be questions of sound and sight in the person's head, instead of bad and nasty thoughts.
I dream of flying sometimes. I wonder if birds dream of going to school or to work sometimes. Having suits and dresses instead of the feathers we dream of. I would fly right over Twin Peaks and out over the land beyond it. I'd never come back if I didn't have to.
I'll write a poem, then head back home.
Inside me there is something
No one knows about
Like a secret
Sometimes it takes over
And I drift back
Deep into darkness.
This secret tells me
I will never grow older
Never laugh with friends
Never
be who I should if I ever reveal
Its name.
I cannot tell if it is real
Or if I dream of it
For when it touches me
I drift off
No tears come
No screams
I am wrapped up
In a nightmare of hands
And of fingers
And of small tiny voices in the
woods.
So wrong
So beautiful
So bad
So Laura.
I have to go home. Now. It is too dark. This is not a nice place to me right now.
Laura
August 16, 1984
Dear Diary,
Never before in my life have I been so confused. It is five-thirty exactly in the morning, and I can barely hold this pen I am shaking so much. I have been in the woods again. Lost. But have been led. I think I am a very bad person. Tomorrow I will start a new way of living. I will not think any more bad thoughts. I will not think any more about sex. Maybe he will stop coming if I try harder to be good. Maybe I could be like Donna. She is a good person. I am bad.
Laura
P.S. I promise, I promise, I promise to be good!
August 31, 1984
Dear Diary,
I have not written to you for ages because I have been trying so hard to be happy and good and around people all the time so that I am never alone to think about the wrong things. Today I must write to you, though, to tell you of the news.
I got my period. It is not at all what I thought it would be. School starts next week and now this. I was getting out of bed this morning and saw the blood. I called for Mom, and she of course made this enormous deal out of the whole thing. She called Dad when I had told her not to tell anyone. And now everyone probably knows up at the Great Northern. All I wanted was some damn pads or something, and she has to go into all of this stuff about how I am now a woman and everything. Okay. Okay. So it is kind of special. But this can only make things worse if I am not careful. I'm in bed now with cramps.
Mom moved the television into my room, which was nice, and I have a heating pad on my belly and tons of aspirin on my nightstand. Television doesn't interest me much, so I am left once again with strange thoughts of life and of... other things. I guess what is coming from me was to be the life source of some other being. I am glad there is no one inside me right now. At least not a child.
Sometimes I think there is someone inside me, but it is another, stranger part of me. Sometimes I see her in the mirror. I don't know that I ever want to have children of my own. Something happens to parents, or people who become parents. I think they forget they were ever children themselves and that things might embarrass or upset their kids sometimes, but they have just forgotten or decided to ignore that. Too many bad things happen to me sometimes late at night, so I probably would not be such a good mother. This makes me sad inside.
I am glad of one thing. Jupiter is beside me in bed, and he is purring away softly. Like you, he would never criticize me.
Laura
September 1, 1984
Dear Diary,
My breasts ache, which is almost silly because they're so tiny. I'll admit they are bigger than they were last week, and certainly nicer looking. Always hard at the little pink tips. But God they hurt.
Mom came in earlier and we actually had a nice talk. I told her I wished she hadn't told Dad about my period, and she apologized but said she only did it because she knew how proud he would be of his little girl's becoming a woman. She changed the water in my heating pad and rubbed my stomach for a long time. We didn't need t
o say anything to each other for a long while, and still I felt like we were talking.
She crawled into bed with me for about an hour after that and let me fall asleep on her shoulder. We shared a soda when I woke up, and for the first time in a long while, I felt like we were really close.
I hope I can sleep through the night tonight.
Love, Laura
September 9, 1984
Dear Diary,
I have discovered something about myself. Do you remember the night I told you I woke up with that wonderful feeling? Well! There is a special place on my body that lets me feel that as often as I like. A warm, wonderful place where everything else melts away and I am free to just feel good. My little secret red button. This is all mine. Finally something that will take me away along with my fantasies. I can do it in my bed, very softly with my fingertip, which is so sweet. I can do it in the bathtub with the water as it pours out of the faucet. (I never knew a bath could be so enjoyable!) Or in the shower, with a small stream of water coming from above. I move and jump and sometimes have to grab a pillow and put it over my head so that it is dark and no one can hear me making little noises. It is, after all, a secret, and whether this is right or wrong, I feel very good when it happens and no one need ever know, except you, dear Diary.
It has been quite a week with my period coming and all, and now this sweet-as-honey discovery. Now I am beginning to feel like a woman, and someday very soon, perhaps I will share this with someone special.
Good night! Good night! Good night!
Laura
P.S. I hope in my heart that I am not doing something that is wrong by touching myself. I hope this is something all girls do, and that I won't be punished for it later.
The Secret Diary of Laura Palmer Page 2
