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.

What is it going to take to make me happy? My youth seems to be slipping by and I won’t give it up. I need success, but not seriousness. I need love and/or companionship, even if it is only temporary. I need adventure and some spice in life, which I haven’t had in a while. I need some pride. To be able to see my work and know it’s being appreciated by others.

Funny thing about achieving that teenage dream of not working and no longer going to school is that it actually sucks. All your friends are busy at school or work during the day, and you don’t have any money to go out at night. So you stay home, alone, and stew in your own self-designed lonliness trap.