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.

That’s how it used to be. Everyone danced if they wanted, no costume ball was necessary. The masks didn’t come off at midnight, no, they were never put on. Oh, where did everyone go? Caught up in their nothing struggle, desperately grasping at a fate that lies at their feet. Take the time to sit down, and ease into destiny.

Does every teenager go through this phase where you rebel against society because you see it as frivolous? A few years ago, I was climbing the stairs out of the subway in New York City with all the other morning commuters and there was a homeless guy laughing at us all at the top saying, “You’re all slaves!” It felt a little bit true at first, but a few seconds later you realized that you had just been laughed at by the alternative to not being enslaved.