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.

Dear Sarah,

     I miss you right now. In the past year, my life has changes so much, but some things remain the same. My infatuation with you is one such thing. For some reason still beyond my comprehension, you’re the person who I would still give up most anything for. Your thought might leave for a little while, but it always returns. I guess you’re easy to forget as long as I don’t think of you at all. A few meetings and four letters is all I have of you. Someday, I know we’ll meet again. What will happen, I don’t know, but it will never be as perfect as I hope it will be. Love me or let me go, I guess that’s all I’m asking. Until the time we meet, here or in dreams, I can’t dwell in the memory of you. If I did so, all I would do is cry and I cannot be sad forever.

                                                                   Jay

I’m trying to remember what finally got me to kick this obsession with Sarah. A girlfriend certainly helped, but even then she’d come back into my mind. At least I knew that “it will never be as perfect as I hope it will be.”