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December 2008
Dear Diary,
This feels stupid. Really stupid. I’ve never really owned a diary before, so I don't know how to do this.
I guess whenever I needed to talk about something, I went to my parents. They listen, they always do. And mom makes sure to always remind me that she’s proud of me and stuff…
So maybe that’s why I’m coming to you with this. Because I want her to keep being proud of me and I’m not exactly proud of how I feel.
I love hockey. I’m good at hockey. And I know I’m lucky that I get to make a career out of something I love. I guess I just didn't realize there would also be a strange feeling to it. Because now there's all this pressure, which of course was also there before. But before, it wasn't like everyone was watching my every move. Before, it was still fun.
I’m making this sound worse than it is. Of course I'm still having fun. I wouldn't be doing this if not. But now there's just…other stuff too. Fear. A fear I can't talk to my family about because how would that make me look? They are so proud of me. I want them to keep being proud and not worry.
I wonder if Rozanov is feeling the same pressure of suddenly being in the public eye. Ilya Rozanov, that is. In case either of us disappear into obscurity in the next couple of years, just know that right now, we are the most watched prospects in the hockey world. But Rozanov is so cool cold. I tried talking to him, but he seemed so closed off. Maybe he's already embraced his whole superstar image. I know I haven't.
Anyway, I don't know if I feel any better after writing all of this down. I might never pick you up again, dear diary. I'm sorry if that's the case.
June 2009
Dear Diary,
Long time no see write (?), I guess? I suppose I haven't had any news in a while. Well, that’s a lie, there's news every day. But today… Something happened. Something I definitely can't talk to my family about. Or anyone else, for that matter.
I don't even know how to write about it. I probably shouldn't write about it. Even if I wanted to, I don't know if I have the words for it. At this point, I wonder if I will be able to string together a coherent sentence again. It's almost morning. I should sleep. I went to the gym to try to tire myself out so I would sleep. And instead…
This whole pressure is messing with my head. That's what this is. The media highlighting the rivalry between me and Rozanov is not making it better. Sure, it's promo, but I don't want a rivalry. Especially not after today.
After today, all I want is to stay as far away as possible from Ilya Rozanov before I do anything stupid like punch him or…
June 2010
Dear Diary,
Fuck.
January 2011
Dear Diary,
I guess I finally have a name to talk about my problem now: Lily. But I don't think that’s enough. It doesn't change the fact that it is still a huge problem I shouldn't be talking about in the first place.
This was supposed to be a place where I could write down all the shit I can't speak out loud, but it turns out some things are still too dangerous to write down. There is so much I want to write down right now but all I can think about is that if anyone found this diary, it would be a disaster. But I need this outlet. It's the only one I have. Guess all I can do is keep it as vague as possible. But the right person with the right knowledge could do a lot of bad with it.
So I should just… stop. I don't mean just stop writing this stuff down. I mean stop this thing I am doing that is very very stupid and that will get me in a lot of trouble.
Yes, that's what I’m gonna do. For sure.
June 2011
Dear Diary,
I think this is my chance to put an end to it. Just stop everything. I told you I would. Lily is being weird and I think we just had a fight so this would be a great moment to just forget anything in the past two years ever happened.
But now that the chance is here, I don't know if I can let go that easily.
I want so many things, so much more than I have ever wanted in my life and it scares me so much.
Jesus, I’m drunk. I must be, because there’s no other explanation for why I’m talking like this. I shouldn't even be writing this down. I don't know why I took the diary with me on this trip. I guess a part of me thought I might need it. I hate past me for being sentimental like that.
At least now, Lily and I get to put some space between us. And maybe, distance is exactly what I need in order to finally get it together. Maybe by the beginning of next season, everything will be better.
October 2011
Dear Diary,
It's not better.
Strangely, it's not any worse either.
I’m keeping my distance. In a way. I don't know why but I’m still texting Lily. We're not meeting up though. So that's progress, isn't it?
I’ve shot three ads since the summer and I wonder how movie stars can bear looking at themselves on a screen all the time. I hate seeing those ads. Or maybe I hate the fact that I don't recognize the guy in them. It's not the guy my parents know anymore, but it's also not anyone I know.
Fuck, I don't know why I’m getting all philosophical about this. I guess there's still so much I haven't figured out and yet I keep building upon this image hoping that one day maybe I will wake up and become the guy in the ad, the one the whole world is crazy with.
All that is to say, I’m probably failing at my plan to keep my distance, but that is not the biggest concern I have now.
November 2013
Dear Diary,
It's been two years. I know. Sorry about that.
Honestly, I thought I would never come back to you.
Please let it be known that I did try.
Everything that is in this notebook is proof that I tried. But after years of trying, I am tired of trying. So for today, just for today, I stopped trying and let myself BE.
I did something today and it was monumental in a way but also didn't feel as big and scary as I thought it would. And it was good. Really, really good. But the problem is the want I was telling you about.
Being with Lily makes me understand why some people can't stop smoking cigarettes. As someone who's never smoked, I don't particularly crave it. But once people get the taste, they can't stop even though they know it's bad for them. And that's how I feel about this. I managed to keep Lily at arm's length for two years but today… Today I wonder how I could manage that. I don't know if I can ever go back to convincing myself I don't want it.
I certainly can't go back to my team and listen to them talk about people women they've been with and pretend to understand.
I realize this is the closest I have come to actually saying it out loud. I should just burn this stupid book at this point.
February 2014
Dear Diary,
For once, you won't get just pointless rambling from me. Because I had weeks to think about what I wanted to say. And during all those weeks, I was so grateful I didn't take you with me to the Olympics. There may not be anything overtly incriminating in here, and I am the only one who knows what all this venting is about, but it still felt too dangerous.
I just need to ask a question: Why is the world such an awful fucking place for people who are different? It's not like I didn't know that before, growing up looking the way I do. But God, there are places where it is so much worse. And now I’ve seen first hand what those places can do to good people and I just want to know why the world is so unfair.
Up until today, nothing in this book had been incriminating. But that changes now. Because after weeks of being in that place, after weeks of feeling on edge, I feel like I need to say this to someone, and you're the only one I can say it to. So here it goes:
I like him. I really do.
June 2014
Dear Diary,
Maybe I like him even more than I originally thought. Is that why this is scary? Is that why it hurts?
I just drank some absolutely awful vodka so in the morning I will blame the fact that this entry exists on that. But I just have another question for you:
How can you be as close as possible to someone sexually and still crave closeness? And even more important: How do I get that feeling to stop?
May 2015
Dear Diary,
I know I was super dramatic in that last entry. I still don't know what happened to me and I’m so glad you're not a therapist who would make me talk about it. It's fine. We've moved on.
In other news, we won the Stanley Cup. I finally got to know how it feels to hold it. And yeah, I guess now I get what all the buzz is about. This is what it is all for, right?
But the moment I touched that cup, the first thing I thought about was my parents, the second was my team, the third was him. They are what it is all for. Not some object that is a symbol for something else, but the hug my mom gave me afterwards and the million times she said she's proud of me. Hayden and all the other guys popping champagne. The thought of Lily watching me score that final goal.
Only later did I think about myself. Only later did I let myself ask how I feel now that I've achieved this. Of course I feel good. Of course this is also what I want.
But it will always be for them first and foremost. And then for me.
October 2016
Dear Diary,
Why didn't I end this when I should have? Why did I let it get this far?
I'm fixing it. I'm fixing it right now.
December 2016
Dear Diary,
I'm gay.
Now that I’ve told an actual human, writing it down here doesn't seem as daunting.
I know you're an inanimate object, but I guess even you've heard the rumours about me and Rose Landry. Like, they're everywhere. They weren't just rumours by the way.
That was me trying, I guess. Trying to go back to being the person everyone thinks I am. But “go back” is the wrong word, isn't it? Because that's never been me.
And maybe, just maybe, I am tired of trying to be anyone else.
I'm not naive about the way the world is. I know this won't be easy. But I’d rather go through it all as myself than have a boring life as someone I don't know.
January 2017
Dear Diary,
For once, I’m not turning to you because I’m angry or confused, but because I am hopeful. And in case this whole thing goes sideways faster than expected, at least I will have this moment of hope immortalized.
Things aren't simple, because how could they ever be? But they are better, and not because of distance, but because of closeness. They are better because for once, I let myself feel more instead of less. And it’s still scary. Really fucking terrifying. But maybe it doesn't have to be agony.
I think I could get used to this. I just hope Lily feels the same.
April 2017
Dear Diary,
I’m recovering from a concussion, so this may not make sense. But love never makes sense, does it?
Writing down that word feels way easier than I thought it would. Is it because I have experienced the word in its essence? What is love if not seeing a person at their lowest and adoring them anyway? What is love if not allowing someone else to see you at your lowest? What is love if not seeing and being seen in return? Why are we on this earth-
Okayyy, I had to take a break from writing cause I was feeling all floaty. I probably should've waited until I was off the meds to write this entry, but I didn't want to wait. Not for this.
My point is, I’m pretty sure I'm in love.
That's all.
May 2017
Dear Diary,
Holy shit.
I feel like I should apologize to Scott Hunter for punching him now. I think the guy just turned my life around.
July 2017
“What's this?” Ilya asked, holding up a little brown booklet he had taken out of Shane's drawer. They were searching for a book Shane had misplaced because Ilya wanted to borrow it. The thing Ilya was holding was, most definitely, not that.
Shane froze. “I, uh, forgot it was there.”
“It is…what do you call it? A smut book?” Ilya asked with a smirk.
Shane laughed, glad at the way the joke broke some of his tension. “No, it's, uh, my diary?” It sounded more like a question than a statement.
“Diary? From when you were young?”
Shane bit his lip. “More from like… the past nine years.” And suddenly he felt dumb. And guilty. Because while he had guarded that thing with his life, his and Ilya's relationship was the underlying topic of the whole thing. Would Ilya get angry at him for writing something so dangerous for them both? But they had promised to be honest to each other, so Shane also didn't want to lie about the contents.
Ilya sensed his discomfort, because he immediately set the book back down. “It's okay, Shane. I'm not going to read it.”
Shane surprised himself when he said “Actually, I… I think I’d like you to. I'm not great with words or emotions, so maybe… maybe reading that will help you understand me better than anything I have to say to you.”
“Are you sure?” Ilya still didn't seem convinced.
“Yes.” Shane said with more confidence than he himself expected. “Yes, I want you to.”
“You weren't planning to show me.”
Shane thought about that for a moment, then came to a realization. “To be honest, I kinda forgot it was there. I haven't needed it that much lately. I've had someone to talk to.”
They had their food outside while watching the sunset and then sat down on the couch together, a blanket draped over their legs. Ilya had Shane's diary while Shane was re-reading some excerpts from the book he was originally going to give to Ilya, something about hockey in the 1960s and 70s.
Shane looked up when he heard a sniffing sound and noticed Ilya was crying. Two lone tears were making their way down his face. Shane immediately dropped the book he was holding and went to his boyfriend's side to hold him. “Hey,” he whispered gently.
“I love you, Shane,” Ilya said, carefully closing the diary and setting it aside. “I love every part of you. And you’re not alone anymore.”
Shane didn't know when he had started crying too, but his cheeks were wet now. He leaned in and kissed Ilya gently. “I love you, too.” And it was so beautiful to be able to speak those words out loud instead of writing them down. Shane couldn't quite shout it from the rooftops yet, but the only person who needed to hear was right there in his arms. And that was enough.