Upon redrafting this online edition of Mary Usage’s diary, I have had to redraft the writings to create a more formal and appropriate format. I assure you that my altercations were necessary and purely focused on grammatical errors and some structural issues. I have not removed any information that Usage’s diary conveys, rather I only improved on it. Be reminded, when reading Mary’s diary that you take an objective position. Mary is a very capable and intelligent writer who supposedly wrote her entries for herself. In my irrelevant opinion, as most of you will disregard my editorial note completely as you scroll by it, I feel that Usage was trying to convey a certain message. Perhaps I am as ignorant to her themes, as an audience can be ignorant to a writer’s potential.
Note on yourself and your experiences, that freedoms in a society guarantee a greater vice. One of the most obsolete vices practiced within our society and previous ideologies is Web fabrication. You must admit, every single one of us has typed falsities behind our screens relying on sky-high cyber walls to protect us. Keep this in mind as you read Usage’s story, as she did not expect an ignorant audience to come upon her diary. Prepare yourself for an essential truth.
I can assume that, to the shock of no one, that we as the reader can associate the narratives claims with the lack of identity brought up a few years ago by a computer hacker. Keep these associations to yourself, as Usage’s story cannot be associated to the high rising numbers of society members joining the supposed group. This online phenomenon has nothing to do with Usage. This is factual. These cult members simply meet online and have never met in person. They pose no threat to society and are simply just over eager females who want governable attention.
Let us begin Usage’s story from the second edition from which I have taken on myself for revision:
My father always told me that I was good at a lot of things, but great at nothing. For some reason I find comfort in his voice of mediocrity. One day when I find my niche, I will look into it and become great. But until then, I will remain the same. As I reflect on the word ‘passion’ I find no connections to it. I feel like most things in life can be disposed of as simply as the paper I write on now.
Quote of the day: itching may be a sign of bad things to come
My name is Mary Usage. My name was not always Mary, nor am I confident when the new bill comes in that it will continue to be Mary. For now that is my name. Just as our identification numbers change our names change. I find it enjoyable that there is always change. There is always something new to memorize. Old signatures are disposed of as we get to create our new signings. From what I’ve read in my computer time, I know that my name now has vital significance to centuries before me. Now it is given to me for the two syllables.
For as long as I can remember, our lives have been based on finding the ideal mate and living the nuclear dream. I’ve been pushed my entire life to perfect my appearance. Being beautiful in a pulled back manner. Being the ideal women means everything to my mother. She always keeps me up to date on trends. I am only fifteen but next week I will be sixteen. The age we have all been waiting for. It’s time for me to go into the passage trials. At sixteen, every female must be pulled from their home and pushed into a new house with twenty other women where we all compete for a male suitor. I cannot wait to meet him. My parents have been training me for years, pushing me to work on my social skills as much as I work on my outer appearance. My mother has decided that I should tone my hair down to a chestnut brown. She feels that an ideal candidate should seem beautiful yet reserved. She believes that being blonde is great for complementing my facial appearance, but chestnut brown conveys a good simple wife.
I have dreamt of meeting my suitor. I wonder what he will look like. My mother has been instructing me to watch play off games each night as I cook dinner for my family. She thinks multitasking the combination will bring out a great meal and stimulating conversation for him to enjoy. But will he care about my interests?
I take that back. Why would he?
Quote of the day: always carry a pin while walking alone
Reader, I assume that you are satisfied. Is it better to ask if you are happy? I’m assuming if you’re reading this that you are being given permission to go on the web for the same reasons as me. My mother makes me use my web time for research as opposed to media entertainment. I am not personally sure what happiness feels like myself. I have never been in love. I never go outside unless it’s in my family gated yard for an appropriate amount of vitamin D. Never enough to burn the skin. Besides that I never pay to go out into the city. It seems like a waste of money. I don’t know what love will feel like. I am aiming for the best results in the passage trials. I feel as if-
I apologize for my last entry. My mother called me down to practice setting tables for functions.
I will leave you with my quote of the day.
Quote of the day: three is the magic number, but you may find that one is sufficient for you
Today is the day. It’s time to get ready and get into the van that will bring me to the house I will be in for the next couple weeks. I will not be able to see anyone but twenty other females in their first round of the passage trials. I really hope I will not have to go into the second round. I would never want to shame my family. They have done so much for my future. Prescribing me pills, training me, and helping me to be an ideal woman. Being a second round girl makes your society think that you are inadequate. To be a third round girl is pure disgrace. During the trials I cannot take anything but my wardrobe and makeup with me. I am in charge of my appearance for the entire trials. Between breaks where he will spend time with each women, we are to busy ourselves with cooking and thinking of our ever growing relationship with him. There is a mid point where, if I get this far, I get to travel with my suitor for him to meet my parents. From then I get to spend two days at home and then back I go. My parents have laminated the instructions of the meal I am to make that day on the back of my bedroom door. The meal must be perfect. It must show him that I have potential to please him
I will try not to think too hard today. Coming off as an overly intelligent woman will be portrayed as trying to hard. I need to satisfy him. Don’t think into this too much for me…I’ve always noticed that when someone is seen to be as over-intelligent in our society that they are chastised. It’s kind of odd how the media pushes our society to think in short burst, as if we only have one mind. But at the same time, you must agree that the idea they present is always correct. I feel perfectly content in putting my faith into the passage trials. I put my faith into our society. We never have to leave the comfort of our home, unless instructed too. Life is so convenient and we never have conflicts of opinion.
Quote of the day: Your stupidity today will be relived only by your embarrassment
If you’ve managed to keep reading without changing tabs them I commend you. I’ll stop babbling. My father always walks away when I talk too much; I have to watch my habits to keep him happy. I’ll get straight to the point.
I made it half way. I have tried to stay intrigued with my thoughts as I left in order to write about the major events and emotions I’ve gone through when I’m home. If I had written this in another way you may not have been as intrigued as you are now so I will try to keep my focus and yours until the very end of my journey.
My story within the house is quite systematic. His name is Mark. Every day I spend my time fighting in a sheepish manner to gain his attention. My mother’s work paid off as he does enjoy sports. This kept him interested, and in a way, pushed me farther with him. Instead of focusing solely on his need to fulfill his lustful cravings I was able to stimulate his mind. When he tires of my speeches and light conversation I do as he pleases. The women in the house are so sweet to my face but I have learned to check my shoes and bed before I get into either. Glass shards cut my toes as I slipped into my moccasins two days ago. The women are intimidated by my training. I never imagined women being so hostile towards me. But I need to make him happy. I need to make him want me.
Quote of the day: You are not photogenic and could probably do with setting your sights much lower
As I look out my window I was reminded yet again that my window of opportunity towards winning Mark was coming to an end. I only had a week left to prove to him that I deserve to be his companion. If I do not win I will be labeled as a ‘second’. My entire society, of which I’ve never set foot in, will know who I am and mock me electronically. How humiliating. There could be nothing worse than being stripped of my woman hood. I have been checked off as fertile and I need to win him and be impregnated within the next two years.
If I were to have Mark’s child I would only get to take care of it personally for 5 months and it then I would be seen as an ideal wife. The other women that Mark has been sexual with probably only see a child as a mark slashed off a checklist. I personally do not see any blatant rationality of how it would change my life either. I only need to supervise it and stimulate its growth. My life has been based off of training for each step in my life and I feel such companionship, with an infant, would be entertaining. If I will get parental instincts I don’t know. I feel as if this new way of living proves why women are addicted to having children… A woman who has a child without a marriage is a disgrace. My aunt Linda did such a thing and my entire family cut ties with her. Apparently she is unhappier than anyone. To be a woman in the work force raising a child by her own… I wonder why they don’t just rip the thing from her hands.
There I go again blabbering off.
Mark will be coming over in an hour to meet my parents and I have to finish my subtle winged cat eye and rose coloured lip. It feels as if this make up look is as vital as my knowledge on world issues.
Quote of the day: Your mind is filled with thoughts of sexual inadequacy and hey, maybe you’re right
Mark has come and left. My mother thinks I need to sleep with him before the week is over. That was when he chooses between myself and the female Vivian, who is always subtly on his lap. Mother thinks if I do this he will be thinking of me before his decision. I must admit while thinking of her that I have encountered new emotions I’ve never felt before. She always feels the need to touch him. At dinner as the three of us eat she will always move closer to his chair and kiss him inform of me. I was used to him entertaining the other eighteen women in front of me… but she does it in a way that feels as if she is trying to claim him in front of me. I have been more reserved but the heated anger I feel in my chest wants me to succumb to his desires to make him want me.
… I don’t know why… but I feel like this whole thing is wrong. Every time he gasps a different woman’s waist and takes her away I feel as if there is no one to blame but me. But when I’m in my twin bed across the room from Vivian I get to see her face soften. It makes me ponder why I hate her…She looks well over sixteen, probably too much vitamin D.
Mark doesn’t’ look how I pictured him either. I always imagined being swept off my feet by a beautifully burly man who would fall for me. Mark is blonde and has very subtle features. He has no passions but a lot of lust. Every conversation I lead. With the others he only becomes intimate. I wonder if I will grow to love him. I know if he chooses me that there will be other women. But if he truly finds me stimulating… will he starts conversations with me?
My parents were so happy when they met him. Asking him about how he other women were, as is weeding them out for their uninspiring quirks. When he left he grabbed me as he always does and kissed me. He told me he was inspired to see what new things he will uncover from me in the last week.
Quote of the day: Claustrophobic people are more productive thinking outside the box.
How odd it is to be home. I don’t know why but I’m starting to think of the thrills of running away. These thoughts stimulate me more than what my sexual appetite has ever made me feel. I’ve always enjoyed writing. My mother thinks it’s a better way to get the things that shouldn’t be said out loud. That way it’s enclosed within the chapters of paper rather than taking up necessary space in my brain. A new anxiety has been woken up within me. I have never disclosed my emotions to anyone. But perhaps I could disclose them within the new house I would have with Mark. Writing has always helped to stabilize my unstable mind. Looking out my window, I thought of the people in my city who were brave enough to pay to go outside. I have always read terrible reviews of experiences out there. I was always encouraged to refuse this privilege and stayed within the comfort of my room. I assumed this was for my well-being.
But was it?
Sorry I lost my train of thought. I must sleep, tomorrow I go back!
Quote of the day: I wondered why the baseball was getting bigger. Then it hit me.
My dear readers I am home before he chooses between the two of us. Tomorrow I will find out if I am engaged. I’m constantly crying. And I don’t know why. I feel nauseous. Last night I lost my virginity to Mark. He didn’t even take the time to fully take off his pants. And I didn’t have the heart to stop him to push his sharp belt buckle away from my hipbone. He heaved and breathed heavy. My stomach began to cramp and my legs grew tired. He looked nothing like I imagined him to look like. When he got off me there were sharp pains and some blood. He walked off and got water for himself and I redressed into the skirt he took off of me. Without a look he told me to go to bed. I went back into my room and stared at Vivian sleeping. Did she feel pleasure from that? I started to regret my decisions and looked upon humanity as the villain of my taken virginity.
Should I run away? Where would I go…
I’m being foolish… There is no out. I have given him everything… he has to choose me. He laughs at my jokes, eats my food, and uses me as he pleases. I’m intelligent he has to choose me.
Quote of the day: You have a very positive outlook on life that may have to shift slightly to fit in with a new persona that may be forced onto you today. If you can’t see what the fuss is all about this week, try thinking about it from someone else’s point of view.
The problem with falling for someone is that you become irrational. That was my mistake.
He chose Vivian.
Just like that… I would never see either of them again and I would have to return to my family. I failed them. My entire life, which was steered towards surviving the passage trials was a failure.
Quote of the day: If some things start to appear impossible, it may be time to invent robots
I’ve resumed my standard life again. I haven’t been using my web hours, instead I’ve been fixing my peppercorn steak recipe. I have been taking all my prescribed medications, they always seemed to dull the pain. Reflecting on my relationship with Mark… I regret how little I actually did and how minimal my reaction to his choice was. I should have worked harder. I should have fought to win him. I want to feel normal, numbed from this pain of failure. As time has passed a nagging curiosity has kept me infuriated. I pleasure him every day but did this help me? Should I have stimulated him with sex the entire procedure? Did I talk too much?
Months later I have transgressed back into my regular routine. My rituals of cooking for my parents, sleeping within the right hours, keeping my opinions within my mind, and using my web time to research what men want. My second passage trials are in 4 months. Mark and Vivian have been forgotten from my emotions. I have welcomed denial into my heart fearing that I will fail again.
You may be asking why I’ve written this at all…
The simplest answer is that there is no real answer. Possibly because I don’t think anyone thinks like me. The last thing I want is for someone to think I’m too uptight and think I’m too good for anything. I must be perfect. You may see these entries as a cry for attention. But writing makes me feel like I can someday find a passion and look back and see where all of my faults were.
You may think I am over opinionated and should be focused more on finding a suitor… but I assure you that I blissfully sit here writing this to you as I take my daily pills and search for new ways to entertain a man.
This time I will be ready. I will be experienced. I will have a new name, Katherine I believe. I will gain a new persona as Katherine and I will seduce the next man into loving me. I will push through the herd and he will find characteristics in me that will appease him. I will abide by him and pleasure him.
…Sometimes I wake up with those old feelings… of running away. As I stare at my ceiling as I wake up I think of what I would take with me.
But I never do.
Quote of the Day: Today is going to be like most days, certainly in terms of its lengths and the frequency of sun rise to sun set