Feb. 20 1976... Today is the dance! I'm nervous! 11:56 p.m.--I'm home from the dance now. I got home around 10:45 or so. It was real fun. I danced with 9 boys; one boy I danced with twice. One time, it was 5 (songs) straight! Boy, my legs and feet ache. After, we went to Shakey's Pizza Parlor. I had a lettuce salad for 60 cents (one boy) asked about 5 kids for a dime and when they asked what it was for, he said, "It's going for a good cause." You know what? He gave it to me! I told 'em to take it back, but they wouldn't, and (a girl) said she'd be mad at me if I didn't. So, I'm 50 cents richer, I think the reason that I danced so much is because I've been gone. It was obvious to me that some of the attention I had received was due to my illness, for my appearance had suffered since 7th grade and popularity had never been a concern of mine. Nevertheless, I was pleased to have been accepted by those with whom I had always maintained friendly terms. It was common knowledge that I wore a wig; I was glad that no one stared or gawked at me with unnatural interest; some even said that my short hair looked nice, to which I would reply with a word of appreciation, knowing that I could never believe the statements, despite the good intention behind them. I had explained the entire episode to M. and J. when they visited me on Valentine's Day, telling them that I wished my plight to be honestly related to those of my acquaintance, for carrying such a secret would have been like transporting a dandelion seed head on a windy day. Seeds of both truth and controversy would have flown everywhere, and deception on my behalf would only have served to germinate further curiosity. The interaction at the dance demonstrated that I had not been completely forgotten in my absence, although it also served to amplify the unusual nature of my current way of life in my own eyes. I lived each day as it presented itself, not dwelling on dejection, pain, or my severance from the rest of the world. When I dreamed, I did not dream of the past, and was therefore a trifle shocked at the difference of my days to those of other youth. Through the months, abnormalcy became "normal" for me; and perhaps it was beneficial that I could think along those lines, for I was able to adapt to my situation without undue frustration. It is difficult to live "with" something if it is the source of continual mental torment. Aloneness did not parallel loneliness; many times I was very happy that my health allowed me to avoid social involvements, despite the fact that, after too much solitude, interaction with others became increasingly difficult.