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.

Leave me be innocent among your world of gray. Do not force me into your social if I do not want. Leave me with my blindness, hoping never to catch on. I’ll be happy there and not alone. Happy be free.

There’s an interesting difference between my journal now and my journal from 15 years ago. Now, if nothing really happens to me during the day of consequence, I don’t write anything. Then, it seems I was compelled to write something every day no matter what. I’m not saying one way is more correct, but I am curious what made me hang up my gap-filling tendencies.