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.

Take a walk with me? If you feel you must. Try to follow me without falling off the path. Yes, that chasm on both sides, that’s death. I’ve thought about straying once or twice, more than thrice. Now, don’t get too close to me, I might push you. Or make you wish you had the courage, To stray yourself.

What’s the deal with this string of crapola poetry that I’m on? This one’s pretty good, though. Nice and brooding…pretty much true, too. Luckily I just have to read through my inner thoughts. If I actually had to hang out with the old me, I’m probably be thinking of killing myself.