Sample Journal Entries - Roger Davis (Rent)
Mimi has pissed me off.

I haven't been able to talk about it, or even think about it right, or even act like it, but I'm pissed with her. I'm pretty goddamn furious. It could be my fault, for forgetting what a kid I was when I was 20, and not expecting her to be as much of one. It could be she's not as street-smart as she's led me to believe (even though she's kept herself together this long), but I just can't fucking believe, for one second, that she didn't already know what her doctor told her. How could she not have known her ACT was fucking up her birth control? I hate doctors, but I refuse to believe they didn't tell her, and even if I have to accept that, I can't believe she wouldn't have taken the time to ask them if there was anything she oughta know about her drugs.

I thought she had more sense than that. Looks like I was wrong. And now I doubt almost everything she does. I wonder how the fuck she'd get herself home at night, if I wouldn't come to pick her up. I wonder how the fuck she did it before she met me. How is she alive? How did she not kick the bucket and die before I even came around? Maybe I'm being too harsh, maybe I'm being unfair. But how is she not dead, how has she never been pregnant, how has she not constantly been mugged on the way home? I can't stop thinking about every stupid thing I've ever seen her do, and wondering how it didn't bother me before. Before, I thought, well, she needs my taking care of. It was almost endearing, and that sickens me. Now, if she's childish, it just makes me angry. I can't stand it, I want to grab her and shake her and tell her to snap out of it and grow up and stop being a baby.

She's been moody. How can she be moody? Where does she get off being upset? She should thank her lucky stars she isn't pregnant. What the fuck does she think we'd do if she was? The world would fall down. I'm not being melodramatic, the world would fucking fall down. Even if, by some miracle, she had the kid, where would we get thirty thousand dollars for a hospital bill? And what if she died?

Goddamn it, what if she died? We were sitting in our room the other day, just sitting, and she turned and said to me, "I wish you'd stop comparing me to April." I told her I wasn't - I don't even know where that came from, it was out of nowhere. But what I wanted to say was, "I could, if you'd stop making yourself comparable." It's like she knows. It's like she doesn't think I'm only worried about something happening and killing her, it's like she knows what happened before. It's creepy, I don't like it. I have a hard time meeting her eyes now, I'm afraid she'll see it there.

I bet she's upset that I can't understand why she's angry she's not pregnant. Fine. Be upset, Mimi. Whine and piss and moan and cry because I'm so fucking selfish and can't understand anything. Tell everyone that I'm so mad I can't even look at you. Fine. Do that. It's not the anger that's keeping me from looking. I'm just afraid of you. I'm just afraid of what you can see. Do you really know?

I can't tell Mark, because I know he'd take my side. (I wonder if she's already told him.) That sounds stupid. I don't want him to be irritated with her, too. I guess...she is just a kid. I thought stupider stuff when I was 20. I got over it. She will, too. She'll realize we couldn't take care of a baby. Hell, she'll probably realize she doesn't even want one. She'll remember how much it sucks to not have a family, and what if we had a kid, and then both died on it?

Still, I wish I could explain. To anybody. I used to never want to admit when I was terrified, but that was also back when I was a dumb kid. Now I want to run up to the first person I see, and say, "I'm fucking scared." But I don't. I'm waiting for Mimi to yell at me because I can't have sex with her anymore. It's worse than right after Christmas. My stomach flops if I think about it. That's just great, when your girl's all over you, and you have to shove her off because you might hurl. I'm worried she'll start thinking it's her. Believe me, Mimi, I would stop this if I could.

I even went to Life Support the other day. I had to throw myself into perspective, but listening to how much worse everyone else has it didn't really fix anything. All I could say was, "I shouldn't be here, I don't have anything like the problems you do." Then the worst part was, everyone looked at me like I was wrong.

I left after that, as soon as it wouldn't look too awkward. Every once in awhile, I think I want to have friends. But I don't. The friends I have are usually more than enough. Half the time, I'm not sure I like most of them. I love Mark, Collins is great. I could live without everyone else. Hell, even Collins, though, I think we'd survive if we never saw each other. Unfortunately, I'm not sure I'd survive without Mark. But even he...doesn't know half of what there is to know. Sometimes I think I don't know him anymore at all. When I had myself boarded up for a year, I told him everything. Well, as close to everything as I've ever come. But now it's like. I don't know how it is. I'm so busy with Mimi, I barely know what's going on with him, which is weird, since we occupy the same (small) space.

I love Mimi, but it's hard to know any one thing has turned into my life, even if it's a girl and she needs me. The last thing that was my life was an addiction. Is she an addiction? Am I obsessed? No, because I run away sometimes. But other times...I feel like I am. I don't know what to do with myself, if I'm not trying to do something for her. Even when I write, anymore, I'm doing it because of her. I know she wants me to make something of myself, and I know she wants it because she thinks it would make me happy. What would really make me happy is seeing how excited she'd get if I did.

So, it has nothing to do with me, anymore. That's why I'm having trouble. That's why I can't find a band and I've gone back to not being able to write songs. I think of the guys I meet in terms of whether Mimi would like them or not, or whether I'd let them around her. I try to write for her, but I'm too critical of what she'd like. I know, really, she'd like any shit I put down. She might not care who I played with. I know she just wants to see me get out of here and do something. And I want to give her what she wants, but I think...am I losing sight of what I want?

What do I want?
- to write
- to get out of New York
- to be able to talk to people
- to know Mimi's safe

No, that's not something for me. Cross that out.

- to...

I don't know. That's where I get stuck. Once I get to Mimi, I can't get past her. There's nothing left to say.