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 feel tired and defeated now, only having 8 hours of sleep (boo hoo!) can wear one down. The power of friends is a splendid thing. I realize how lucky the god has made me. I’ve defeated myself, but I don’t despair for I know I shall return triumphant tomorrow. For all my bad attitude now, though, I previously had a moment of insight. It was one of those times where I know myself to be true. I can feel myself being myself and in that time I solved mysteries that had eluded me. Questions were easily answered. I do want to go on that trip East, but I don’t want to force myself to have to meet people, so getting an article before the fact would be pointless. Perhaps after, but it depends what happens. Fate, and all. I also came to see my “evil” little thought as not so terrible. I fantasize just like anyone else. My promises to myself demand that I not live a standard life, though, so why should I see one, socially or sexually? Too many special people try to fit themselves into a category created by America, not by themselves. I love myself and fucked up as I may be, I love what I do. I fight evil and it’s my golden year. I don’t lie. I live forever.

Funny how things so important at the time become faint memories. I think the trip East is a road trip to New York City that we were all talking about. As for the sexual fantasy I was having that seemed evil, I have no idea. Believe me, I’m just as disappointed as you for not remembering.