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 didn’t come into this with anything in specific in mind to write. I usually do, but tonight I just wanted to write. There are a lot of people talking through a wall to my left, but they’ve never bothered me, so why should I them? Separate lives and separate ways. Sometime, someone told me that when people fee good, the stop taking care of themselves. Why should they? You feel good and don’t need more. I’ve been feeling pretty good lately, so I want to keep writing in here. Whenever I’m depressed, I come here, rarely when I’m happy. This probably looks like my mope journal. So what do I write about? Inner turmoil? I have a little bit. Not a lot bit like I did not so long ago. Things change though, don’t they? I guess the thought that’s been frightening me lately is that I say I don’t want to be in love anymore I just want to be. Am I telling myself the truth? I don’t know. Fact is, I’d love to be in love, if it would last forever. A long, long time ago, I wrote, “I’ve never been hurt by love, only disappointed.” It’s still true now. Maybe my only moment of truth in life thus far. Love always sneaks up on me I fear I have an attraction to the tragic character. I think that’s what got me hooked on Noelle, I see it in Kristin too. Could be that I want to help and reach out by giving them love. It could be that I see I can control them. Funny how my old girlfriends end up negative and I feel that they impose upon my positive lifestyle. Yeah, whatever Jay. I wonder if Chris creates Beckys. Do I create Noelles? That’s part of the reason I don’t want to fall in love. I don’t like the power I feel. I don’t like knowing that I could do this and get that. I don’t like having Pavlov’s dog there ready to drool when I ring the bell. More than that, though, I don’t want to lose control of myself. No matter how independent you are, you will be roped by Cupid someday & hog tied. Thing is, now I’m looking for love, or sex. I’m ashamed of myself for wanting to gratify my desires. I used to feel so much more in control. Now I feel like a caged beast. Or perhaps, the puppet master of an unpublished short story. I don’t quite fit the bill of cult leader, though, because when I want something, it doesn’t happen. I don’t like to think about things. Whenever I want or try too hard, it doesn’t happen. Things always seem to fall into place, though, so maybe I’m a puppet master, but I have no puppets. I just know which shows to go to. Lately, I’ve been worrying so much about who I am. Soon, I’ll grow tired of asking myself what I’d do in a situation like this that I’ll just do. That’s the pinnacle of knowing yourself: When you don’t care who you are, you just are. I just am lately. I’ve been enjoying the time by myself. I’ve been enjoying the time with others. If the others get lame, I leave. Simple story. On another note, I’ve been having these daydream fantasies – well, 3AM daydreams – that people come to talk with me alone & fall asleep with me. They have to come to me, though, or the thrill’s gone. Don’t know when I became such a conversationalist in the area of personal issue. I used to not give a fuck. Now, I can’t stand small talk. I’m inept at something I had mastered. Again, oh well. It’s times like this, when I get down about really, really stupid things (like losing my small talking ability) that I know that I need to go to sleep. Maybe that’s what this is for, I needed to get something out to sleep. Pee first, though. Then sleep.

There’s one thing that stood out to me in the rambling, and that’s my statement that I fall for tragic characters. Still true. I end up attracted to people I feel I can rescue somehow. I’d much rather be with someone who’s able to save themselves, though.