Several months later I found myself out of ideas of what else I could add to my homepage. For some reason I just couldn't seem to just leave it be. I enjoyed thinking of new things to tell about and create. Then, as now, I saw my homepage not just as a space to put up a few pictures and stats, but rather as my scrap book; a place to leave my fingerprints all over.

Part of why I loved it so much was that it seemed the one place where I wasn't constricted by anyone else's views. For years I have had to battle very low self asteem, and, well... my views on myself and the way I looked haven't always been flattering, exactly.

I was, 19 years old and didn't even dare to wear lip gloss outside my own room because I was afraid somebody would kill me for thinking I could look nice. I was completely locked into a cage built of not feeling good or pretty enough. And here was this place that I could shape exactly the way I wanted to, deciding for myself what to tell and share and what to keep to myself. It was an amazing haven.

And then one day in April I woke up and said "To Hell with it!" I found the make up I never used outside my room, drew thick, black lines around my eyes and lips, added some red lipstick and thick mascara, hyperventilated and stepped outside.

I'll never be able to describe that 5 minute walk to the library. I walked very fast and kept my stare fixed in front of me so I wouldn't have to deal with others reactions as I passed. I breathed quick breaths that made me dizzy. I kept my hands in hard fists to keep myself from covering my face and to prevent myself from running back every step of the way.

And then I made it. I was inside the library.

I was so proud and exhilerated and felt like screaming from roof tops, scream that I had dared, that I did it, that I was alive and myself. Well, I did the next best thing - cheered on by my online friend Debbie, I clicked and typed a bit and woosh - the first, very lame entry of this diary was born. And I've been at it since.