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.

When Everything was Real
Everthing was real not so long ago,
But in an age long past from now.
It wasn’t what you did,
But who you were.
The worries of the future, the past, the present
Weren’t buried among,
     Hidden emotions and Blatant chemicals.
Every so often I meet someone real.
Someone I can’t help but love.
I miss the time,
When everything was real.
The past must stay behind through,
As I look for something real
In the Future.

I just could not handle my friends experimenting with alcohol and drugs. My experiences with my dad had made me totally straight edge – to the point where I couldn’t even be around people using. I’m over this now. Way over it. Thank God!