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.

What do I do for fun? I get asked that question and I have no answer. Then I start thinking, do I have any fun? Am I any fun? Am I boring? Antisocial? But I don’t go to parties, it’s kind of a thing with me. A reason that goes along with me not drinking. Then I end up ostracized and unknown for not joining in on this social activity. I don’t want to drink, I have no desire to be drunk, I generally don’t like being around drunk people, thus I don’t go to parties. So what do I do for fun. I do everything that was fun before the demon alcohol took it away for most. I stare at the world as if for the first time, I still smell the flowers I’ve smelled a hundred times before. I write what I can’t hold in and say what’s most on my mind. I release reality and face the supernatural. I find things in my mind that most haven’t even started looking for. That’s what I do for fun.

Because my dad was an alcoholic, and it very nearly completely destroyed him, I avoided drinking and people that were drunk for almost my entire college career. So yeah, it caused me some social problems, mostly because people would invite me out to parties and I’d refuse without giving a reason. I remember someone on my floor coming into my room while I was reading a book and asking why I was reading it. When I answered that I was reading it just for fun, he laughed at me and then left to go tell others on the floor about what I’d just said. It was times like these that I was really glad not to be drinking.