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.

Continue without me and enjoy your little stupor. Continue down whatever path you follow, I do not know. Go on without me on your little quest, looking for what you’ve left behind. I stay here alone, living without.

My friends would go to parties and drink, like most every 18-year-old does, but I didn’t drink. I was scared to, afraid I would lose control…probably a wise decision. But the only thing I was more afraid of was social situations, so I used my sobriety as an excuse to not go to parties, then put myself on a pedestal to hide my insecurities from myself.