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 know that the future holds great things for me, for I hear it almost every day. When I don’t hear it though, I get so scared of what might be coming that I paralyze myself. I can’t bring myself to see what I need to do. I feel lonely and alone and don’t want to know, would feel more comfortable not knowing than waiting, I hate to wait, so I rush, then when it’s calm, I’m afraid.

Fifteen years later, I can verify that great things were in my future (past?), but none of them were what I expected.