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.

It’s good to be home, but also sad. It reminds me of who I am and who I am not while I’m gone. I should learn something, I have, but I just hope I can remember it when I leave.

For the first few weeks of college, I would make the 5 hour drive home on Friday, and the 5 hour drive back on Monday (I didn’t have class on either day). Thankfully, I eventually realized how stupid this was and just started staying at school, and hating on those that still did what I used to do. Really, it’s better to immerse yourself in one place than try to live in two worlds at once.