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.

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Sometimes, you just so tired that you can’t imagine doing anything more. All you want to do is go home, but then where is home? You don’t have home anymore. I’m that tired and I have no home. I can’t be tired anymore then. Not until I’m home.

Huh? Does this mean that homeless people are always awake? Not true. I see them sleeping on the streets all the time. Or are they just pretending?