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This is an essay that I wrote last year in my Comp class...it's a little bit of a trip into my past, but hopefully enjoyable...It made someone cry, not sure if that's a good sign...


(taken from saved e-mails, saved journal entries, saved memories)

E-mail April 2, 2003
From: shmity08
To: pr00f_positive

Hey Erica,
Today was hard for me—nobody seems to truly understand what I am talking about anymore…my friends are becoming more and more distant day by day, I think that they just find me annoying. Those who are not my friends are becoming even worse, today in my science class I tried to answer a question that the teacher asked about functions of gravity, but I was so nervous about the response because it was a big word with “s”s interspersed in it and the prep kids who sit behind me have decided as of last week to quit calling me a lesbian and instead just make fun of my lisp. I just sat there, sinking lower into my seat by the second as the teacher looked at me—she’s a nice teacher, she really is! I like her a lot! She explains lessons in a way that I can understand and always smiles and says “How are you?” in the morning, but I just couldn’t bring myself to open my mouth to answer her.
It was as if my head had become a giant clear balloon and I could see through and out the back of my scull, the preps leering at me, just waiting to chuckle and giggle in that high-tittering way if I answered and scoff in the better-than-thou way if I kept silent. Damned if you do damned if you don’t. In the end I decided to just shake my head and keep my gaze on the desk. Like clockwork the “Pshaws” echoed from behind me and I felt the thunder in my brain. Tears started to well up in the corner of my eyes, only a bit but it was more than enough to make me want to slap myself again. I think the teacher understood, she quickly answered her own question and moved on, telling the kids behind me to pay attention and giver me opportunity to wipe my eyes. Sometimes I do wish that I could disappear, silly I know. It would be more difficult for me to disappear than my whole middle school considering I’m about half the size of it.
How goes the search for apartments with your mom? That one you talked about last time with the view of the city from the balcony sounds awesome! If you have a window box I would plant roses or carnations…maybe both! I really hope that you can patch things up with your dad soon, that last fight you had sounded pretty bad…I’m sure that he didn’t mean any of it. Of course I’m going by my dad and family as a model. It is silly how depressed I can get when I have this loving environment around me isn’t it?
I’m sorry chika; I’m probably boring you again aren’t I? I always feel bad about dumping my emotional garbage on you but you always seem to know what to say to cheer me up. I can’t really talk to anyone up here about stuff and I always feel like you understand me on some level…and there I go getting all sappy again! Sorry!
The dream goes on as I walk in the rain on l8ter dayz….
~Lauren





I first met Erica on the November 12, 2002. At the time I was in my first semester of 8th grade and wallowing in my own teen angst. While others found outlets in drugs, parties, Dungeons and Dragons, I found my way out through a website: fanfiction.net. It is a site for posting stories about your favorite characters from books, TV, whatever form of media you wish. (Have you ever wondered what would happen if Draco and Hermione ever hooked up? You can find out about 500 times over on fanfiction.) I mainly posted humor stories, situation comedies based on happenings that I witnessed around school or overheard from people who sat at the other end of my lunch table. Then one day a chord struck me and I wrote a back story for one of my favorite enigmatic characters from the anime Cowboy Bebop, full of inner struggle, dramatic pauses and the inevitable end of his character at the series’ end. To this day it still makes me sick to read it. About a month after I posted the story, I received my first review from Erica with her e-mail address attached. Wanting to defend my story, I replied to her and she sent one back to me directing me towards one of her own stories for examples of what I lacked. I followed and thus a symbiotic relationship started: I would read and review her stories and then she would read and review mine.





Fanfiction.net review November 12, 2002
Normalcy_OverActor has reviewed your story “Black Phoenix Feather Falls”:
Your plot points lead in circles and your portrayal lacks depth—congratulations on taking a hopeful attempt at a complex character and turning him into a brooding emo. Try character descriptions beyond “His hair was…” and “he walked”, “he talked”. You’re writing like Hemmingway! There is potential here for a great story, but at this point you lack the capacity to tell it….





At first all of our e-mails consisted of critiques on stories that were too long to put into the review section of the website, but they soon evolved to discussion of writing techniques and then discussions of everyday life. Erica became closer to me than most of my “vicinity” friends (people who live near us, people we see face to face), she would be empathetic and actually come up with viable suggestions for solutions to my every day problems and woes instead of just saying “I know how you feel” and dismissing me. It felt like having a diary that talked back. During the school year I could tell her anything about bullies and taunts that I experienced and she would respond with words of encouragement and sometimes comebacks that had “worked for her”. Then during the summer she started to tell me more and more about herself: her hopes, wishes, home life, fears. It was personal without crossing lines, neither of us ever told the other where we lived or the names of people around us. We acted as soothing balm to each others wounds. She told me about life, love, and always made analogies relating to the show Rent that I could never understand, like when I was seeped in depression, she said that I had to “see the world through Angel’s eyes” or when I really wanted to give up on something to “use your camera to spar/ use your guitar/ when they act tough you call their bluff…”





E-mail February 23, 2004
From: pr00f_positive
To: shmity08



~*~Erica~*~





E-mail March 27, 2004
From: shmity08
To: pr00f_positive

Erica?
Girly girl! Where are you?! What’s goin’ on? Have you not been online recently or something? I wanted to know what you thought of my new story, I think it’s actually going pretty good, but I know that you aren’t really that much of a horror fan so it wouldn’t surprise me if you hated it. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve talked to you, what’s been happening? Have you called your dad yet? I know that you don’t want to after he kicked you out of the house and everything, but I…well, I think that talking should come before action….I’m really not making you want to talk to me anymore am I? Sorry…It’s just that your last e-mail sounded so sad! I loved the Enigma lyrics, but the one before that…about that argument with your parents…don’t give up, things will come around, I’m sure of it! They always seem to with you, you’re special and I pray for you every day. You’re one of my truest friends…..
SO WRITE ME BACK ALREADY! ^_^
The dream goes on as I walk in the rain on l8ter dayz….
~Lauren





E-mail June 25, 2004
From: dshultz
To: shmity08

Ms. Dolgner
You don’t know me, but I believe that you knew my son Eric (you would know him as Erica, the name that he took for himself last year...) very well;

Son? Great, prank mail….there’s no way Erica is a boy! We shared crush secrets, stories about guys we liked but could never tell! Guys don’t understand about that! Or even if they do, they never share! She has insight; I can talk to her about anything!

at least that’s what I gather from his e-mail records. I am sorry to have to be the one to report this, but he is dead.

What?!.....BS! She’s just been away from the computer for awhile, that type of thing happens….though…it’s never happened before, she’s usually really prompt with her answers…and she never mentioned anything about school work…..

I will not go into details considering that, like I said before, I do not know you. But I thought that I would inform you of his passing so that you may stop looking for him in places he won’t be. He passed because of pneumonia complications with his HIV

HIV? Now I know this is a fake; Erica would have told me about something like that! Sure, HIV isn’t something that you tell just anybody about, but we were close enough that it would have come up! Why am I even considering this?! I should just close this e-mail right now! It’s Erica, not Eric! This lady, or whoever she is, is just messing with my mind!

on the 25th of February last. Once again, I am sorry to be the one who has to tell you all of this. Eric saved all of his e-mails, so I have seen that he never informed you of his condition. Please accept my apologies for the loss of your friend and my son.
Dora Shultz

(Included with this e-mail was a picture of his gravestone, as proof?
“Eric Shultz / 1986-2004 / Beloved son, May the Lord forgive him his transgressions”)

Oh my God….it can’t be true….. I WON’T LET IT BE TRUE!!!





Diary entry June 26, 2004

The sun is sitting way up in the sky, watching us from up there
The sky and clouds go drifting by, what do they care?
Of our sadness, of our woes, of our happiness: it never shows
On the faces of the people passing by






February 25th, 2005 7:45 pm
Cabaret Night, “Seasons of Love”, backstage:

Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes,
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Moments so dear.
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?

“Hey Lauren, why are you crying?”

In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights
In cups of coffee
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife.
In five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure
A year in the life?

“Oh….I had a friend, Erica….he loved this song…”

How about love?
How about love?
How about love?
Measure in love.
Seasons of love! Seasons of love!

“‘He’? A boy named Erica?”

Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes!
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Journeys to plan.
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure the life
Of a woman or a man?

“Well…I knew him as Erica, he was really a boy….I met him online…”
“Man, that’s creepy! That’s like something off of those internet stalker shows!”

In truths that she learned,
Or in times that he cried.
In bridges he burned,
Or the way that she died.

“No, it wasn’t like that, he was my friend…he was a Renthead and…”
“Did he ever ask you for your phone number or something? Did he want to arrange a meeting?!”
“I hope that you stopped talking to him if he did!”

Oh you got to got to remember the love!
You measure in love, know that love is a gift from up above
Share love, give love, spread love
Measure your life, measure you life in love

“…. [He died last year of AIDS. He was my best friend. I miss him.]”

It's time now to sing out,
Tho' the story never ends
Let's celebrate
Remember a year in the life of friends
Remember the love!
Remember the love!
Measure in love.

December first was one of the hardest days of my life--our GSA was handing out red ribbons as people walked through the door and I was helping to set up. More than once people would walk by saying things like "Thank God AIDS cleans up everything!" or "Everyone who has AIDS deserves it!"

How can people be so cruel? HOW CAN PEOPLE BE SO BLIND?!

I'm getting really upset now so I'm gonna stop before I do/say something I'm going to regret. I wore three ribbons last Friday--two for the GSAs to which I belong, but the one I painted on my face was for Erica, the girl who I loved and Eric, the boy that I wish I had known in person.

Goodnight....