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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When you’re tired, nothing seems to matter more than not doing anything. I might think that I’ve done nothing, so I should continue not to, but I have done things, not all of which have come to my full realization. Oh well, you have to wake up sometime.

I’m not sure if this entry is speaking literally or figuratively. I think figuratively, and it’s saying that I’m waking up from the depression I was in. I think…