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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All this pent up anger has nowhere to go and I have nothing to do but fume alone. I need to correct myself again, find my path, for once more I am lost. I do what I have to, to have my mind be at ease.

 

You know, I’ll give myself credit for all these written emotional outpourings. At least I was aware of my raw feelings and the need to correct negative ones.