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.

Do not tell me of your inconsistencies, Nor tell me your faults, Let me cast a shy ear upon truth Spoken by you. Let me only look upon you, In my way, eyes only my own, I’ll see nothing but beauty and Perfection evermore.

Not bad…or at least, not horrific. In a way, I can still kinda relate to this poem. I hate when people get all modest and go off on their faults. Big deal. Who doesn’t have problems? Then again, I hate when people get boastful. It’s a fine line, I guess.