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.

I’m still kind of a lonely recluse. I guess having a roommate did me a lot of good – helped me socialize. Now it seems a little harder, but I’m still friendly and happy. I’ll be glad when tomorrow is done though. Finally, I’ll be free for a tme and damn it, I’m going to be drop-dead-stupid-happy all weekend.

Back then, I spent a lot of time (too much time) alone in the basement of my mom’s house. People would come and see me, but it was pretty rare for me to venture out. Now it’s the opposite. I’m almost too social, always running from one event to the other and finding a weekend at home a novelty. Yet still, I worry that I’m not good at communicating with people and that I should be friendlier. Interesting.