I have been writing in a journal on an almost-daily basis since I was 17 years old. This is a record of me going through each entry from the beginning, and commenting on the me from fifteen years ago.

Some secrects are so much better kept. When I first found out about the loan, it seemed strange. -$175- When I asked ‘for what?’ and was denied, I left it at that. I never pry and now I know why. When I found my answer, The burden of knowledge and reality weighed heavy upon me. Reality hurts and I’m sorry to have found it. I found it quite accidentally, I assure you. From now on, Life is a game that I play

The rules: Kick reality in the teeth, Embrace madness. If the bitch catches me, Death before Dishonor.

Our innocent lives fade & sin is introduced. Horrible, horrible truth. Leave me be happy in my fantasy life, Never guide me to responsibility and shall I be happy? Oh yes, indeed.

A friend of mine got his girlfriend pregnant, and I was witness to him paying back the money he had loaned from another friend of mine to pay for the abortion. One question led to another (despite my saying that I wasn’t prying) and I found out about it. I look back on the whole thing now, and it doesn’t seem like a big deal. I mean, obviously is was a big deal for my friend who was going through it, but shit happens, you know?

How I’m overreacting to having found out about this is what’s stupid. It’s like I couldn’t deal with feeling bad for someone else, or like I say, something too real. If this is how I wrote about the whole thing, I’m sure I was acting like a weirdo around those friends for a while. No wonder no one told me anything then.