American therapist and Mormon youth counselor
Beatrice Sparks (January 15, 1917 – May 25, 2012) was an American therapist and Mormon youth counselor who was known for producing books purporting to be the "real diaries" of troubled teenagers. The books deal with topical issues such as drug abuse, Satanism, teenage pregnancy or AIDS, and are presented as cautionary tales. Although Sparks presented herself as merely the discoverer and editor of the diaries, records at the U.S. Copyright Office show that in fact she is listed as the sole author for all but two of them.
I wouldn't intentionally hurt anyone in this whole world. I wouldn't hurt them physically or emotionally, how then can people so consistently do it to me? Even my parents treat me like I'm stupid and inferior and ever short. I guess I'll never measure up to anyone's expectations. I surely don't measure up to what I'd like to be.
Why is life so difficult? Why can't we be just ourselves and have everyone accept us the way we are?
I'm partly somebody else trying to fit in and say the right things and do the right thing and be in the right place and wear what everybody else is wearing. Sometimes I think we're all trying to be shadows of each other, trying to buy the same records and everything even if we don't like them. Kids are like robots, off an assembly line, and I don't want to be a robot!
I would like to stay stoned all the time, it scares me it’s so good. I would like to stay stoned every minute of every day for the rest of my life.
I’m really cracking. No, I’m beyond cracking. I’m shattered. I’m lost. I’m fragmented.
They have accepted me as an individual, as a personality, as an entity. I belong! I am important! I am somebody!
I’ve got to sleep. Sleep is my only way to escape.
My biggest mistake: not wanting to help myself into thinking I am happy, that change would come about without really trying to change, or wanting to change. Procrastinating about changing. I do want to change.
They don’t think “I care,” “I hurt,” or “I have feelings.” It just seems like I’m always “wrong,” always “selfish,” always “self-centered” and everything else that’s negative and destructive.
Alone. The saddest word in the world.
The voice of every kid hooked on drugs, alcohol or the occult joins the sad chorus "Not me! I didn't think it could ever happen to me. I was sure I could handle it.
How is it possible for me to be so miserable and embarrassed and humiliated and beaten an function still talk and smile and concentrate?
She didn't know whether she was running away from something or running to something, but she admitted that deep in her heart she wanted to go home.
I bet the pill is harder to get than drugs--which shows how screwed up this world really is!
The same old dumb teachers teaching the same old dumb subjects in the same old dumb school. I seem to be kind of losing interest in everything. At first I thought high school would be fun but it's just dull. Everything's dull. Maybe it's because I'm growing up and life is becoming more blase.
I'm afraid to live and afraid to die.
I can't believe that I changed so little. I expected to look old and hollow and gray, but I guess it's only me on the inside that has shriveled and deteriorated.
Nobody's talking to me, but nobody's hassling me either. I guess you can't have everything.
The complete bottom has fallen out of my life.
It's a good thing most people bleed on the inside or this would be a gory, blood-smeared earth.
I really am only one infinitely small part of an aching humanity.
Sometimes fantasies are better than life.
Maybe the new me will be different.
one day I'll be old, without ever having really been young
I pretend I've got lots of confidence and I'm a big jock and like that but deep inside I'm a frightened, insecure, can't-make-it failure.
How can thoughts hurt so much when they aren't even physical?
Lying - remembering beauty in truth.
I feel like Alice in Wonderland. Maybe Lewis G Carroll was on drugs too.
I'm not really sure which parts of myself are real and which parts are things I've gotten from books.
This morning when I left Mom's parting words were, "Come straight home after school." Wow! Like I'm going to get stoned at 3:30—it doesn't sound so bad at that.
I guess I'll never measure up to anyone's expectations. I surely don't measure up to what I'd like to be.