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.

Eyes of blue, why have you not talked to me lately, or do you talk to me everyday while I’m awake? Oh, I need to find a love. This time I want whirlwind romance and disgustingly mushy sentiment and chrome siding (joking about that last part) I want someone who entertains me, but knows when things aren’t funny. I want someone who will cry with me, for me, to me and who I would do the same for. Can’t read the signs anymore. Got to find my spirit again to guide the way.

You’re still obsessed with Sarah? Give it up already. Naturally, I know what girl I’ll be going out with next, and I think I got the whirlwind and sentiment I was looking for. It’s nice to know that a goal was met.