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.

I could no more steal her youth, then I would have mine taken away. And though I am young, longing to be younger, and she is younger, stiving to be older, I could not. Keep your frolicking, care free days, I shall keep my insanity. And if I must wait another three years, and another three still, I shall wait for destiny to fall on my hands.

[written on the insides of a triangle]

Sometimes I forget her face & it hurts.

Never had a picture of perfection.

Wish that it were.

[written in the corner]

see her sing

see her there

At least I had the sense to keep my misery and problems to myself, and not burden my true love with them. I mean, it’s kinda sweet. No, no, you keep having fun. I’m gonna stay here and go crazy for a while. Maybe I’ll catch up with you in three years, but if not three, then six. Later!