Like the title says, I misplaced my newest sketchbook at school a couple of days ago, and now I can't find it. The thing is, I was using it kind of like a journal, too, and I wrote things in it.

See, I wrote that I'm gay inside it. Which is why I'm panicky now.

I'm so worried that someone will read it and blab to everybody else at my middle school. I'd probably get made fun of by EVERYBODY in the school. This thought is really worrying me because I was once picked on by pretty much everybody in my class when I was in third grade. It wasn't a fun experience, and I'm not about to repeat it willingly.

At least one positive thing has happened, though. My mom is fully acceptant of my lesbianism. We had a heart-to-heart talk, complete with crying and everything. I hope this doesn't sound sappy, but I'm actually kind of glad we had it.

I tried telling her about the missing sketchbook and the whole 'writing down that I'm gay in it' thing. But all I got to say was that I wrote about my crush in it. My mom now thinks that all I wrote was some stuff about my crush, and since I never used her last name in any entries, my mom thinks that I somehow craftily molded my words so that they were ambiguous. My crush's name is a name that both boys and girls can be called (like 'Robin', 'Alex', or 'Sam'), so if I had worded my entries about my crush correctly, people who read it might have assumed that she was a boy. I never corrected my mom's assumptions. I'm too much of a wimp to do that.

My mom has told me to never write down things about my sexuality, in case somebody reads it. This way, nobody teases me. However, I don't really want to do this. I know this is childish of me, but I don't think it's fair that I can't write down my thoughts about my love life (or lack thereof) in my journal. For me, journals are supposed to be private. That's the way I've felt all my life. I'm a creative person, and I often commit my thoughts, poems, and stories to paper. This is the first time that the thought of somebody reading my writing without my permission has ever actually entered my head. It feels awful. I've always assumed that I have all of this privacy when I really don't. If somebody finds one of my papers or journals lying on the ground, they can read it whether I want them to or not. It's a frightening thought.

Half of me can't believe I'm thinking this, but the other half actually wants somebody to blab about my gayness. Frankly, I'm sick of hiding my sexuality. The rational half of me knows that a lot of people at my school wouldn't really accept that I like girls, but the other, quite insane half is screaming, "So what?? Who cares what they think? I don't have that many friends, anyway. Surely the few friends I do have will accept me. I mean, I don't tend to hang out with discriminatory people. I know my two closest friends are pretty accepting of gays and lesbians. Screw the idiots who are going to think I'm a sicko. They're just close-minded idiots who I never pay any attention to, anyway."

The rational half of me is still scared, though.

And no matter what, my insane half wants to get that sketchbook back eventually, too.

That book didn't just have journal entries in it, it also had some of my best drawings ever! I also wrote lyrics/poetry in there, and no matter what, both my insane and my rational half agree that nobody, but nobody is supposed to read my poetry. My lyrics are for my eyes only, unless I give someone permission to read them. I want that book back, dammit!

I've been searching all over for it, and asking everybody around me if they've seen it. I haven't found it yet, though. I'm sick of this! It's been way too long, and I'm sick of waiting to see what's happened to my sketchbook! For all I know, somebody could have scribbled all over its pages, written in it, or flushed it down a toilet for now!

I am feeling way too stressed right now. I'm part glad and part upset that it's the weekend. Now I can get some rest, but I'll probably spend the whole time worrying about what's happened to my sketchbook, and arguing with myself about whether or not it's okay if somebody read it. If you argue with yourself, does that mean you're crazy? I sure hope not.

Well, if I'm not crazy already, I'll probably be that way before long if I don't get that sketchbook back ASAP. Grr.