Niki wrote a pretty sad entry about how she doesn't feel like she is anything special, she just is "trying to look like a hero."

I think that what Niki and pretty much everyone else on this planet doesn't realize is that we're all heros in our own little way. We have an effect on such a number of different people and we don't know it because everyone, some more than others(i.e., the writer of this diary), is afraid of expressing emotion. No one wants to be that open and vunerable. No one is that willing to put themselves out there at the risk of being hurt. We don't want to be looked at as weird for telling people we appreciate something they didn't think was a big deal.

During my sophomore year of high school, a girl named Ashley Morrison had her life unfairly cut way too short. She died of viral meningitis. It was such a shock; no one could believe it. Ashley Morrison was extremely popular and beloved by pretty much everyone. The only contact I had with Ashley was during the last day of seventh grade. She had come into my fourth period class to hang out with some friends. We were both in there a few minutes before class was supposed to start and everyone was hyper because it was the last day of school. She started dancing around and told me to get up and join her. I was shocked she knew my name. We hadn't had any contact before, and she was way popular while I was way not. But she was so nice to me.

Earlier that same year, I went on a field trip(for that same fourth period class actually) and on the way home the batteries for my cd player died. James Priest, who we also lost sophomore year to a car accident(I swear to God Ridgewood high became cursed the second the class of 2003 set foot in the school), was sitting next to me on the bus. James was also a very popular boy by the way. Not only did he let me use the batteries he was using in his cd player, he also let me listen to some of the cds he had.

Now, I bet to both of them, those acts were really no big deal at all and they didn't think twice about it. But to me, I remember it this many years later? Doesn't that say something?

Do you know how happy I am when someone compliments me on this diary? Especially if it is someone who's diary I read and enjoy?

The point I'm trying to make is, we are all special but none of us realize it. We wander the planet, sometimes feeling depressed and that we are just a waste of space, but to someone out there, we are a hero of sorts.

The thing is, earlier this evening I was talking to Niki and saying how having faith in people will only lead to you getting hurt and that people suck. Well, right now, I'm feeling that, while we need so much work it isn't even funny, people are generally not that bad. And what is a diary for if not to mark the moment that you felt something?

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