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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The shorter days and the cold make me feel tired and alone. I feel like I’m stranded with nothing but bleak winter ahead. I don’t have much of anything, except friends. In that I am abundantly blessed.

This entry surprised me. I thought it was going to be just another one with me whining about nothing, but I flipped the script at the end. Bravo!