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.

Things don’t seem as fast or as critical as they once did. Things are slow, and ideas that pass me by don’t bother me any longer. All in all it’s a good world. When I’m thinking I could be dead, I realize I could be having fun instead. Perspective, it’s always perspective, and there are no things we have to do. Some people, I’m afraid, forget that all too often.

I think all of us forget that at many points in our lives. It seems we all, as humans, have a desire to be occupied. That is no crime, it’s what we choose to be occupied with that is often the problem.