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.

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I’ve spent more time outside than ever before. I walk and look about and wonder. Why do we insist on having gargantuan towers when we could be surrounded by trees? Why are we choking ourselves? Why can’t we accept nature’s perfectness?

What a hippie.

I still walk around and wonder. But now I mostly wonder why people get so obsessed with their lawns when they’re never on them.