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.

The shiftless and moanless who speak and laugh at the nothingness that surrounds them will not slow me down and shall not quiet this voice that I’ve carved and created as my own. Let them have their smoke and drink and lives to themselves. I’ve got better, I’ve gotten better, I’ve gotten bored and I’ve gotten bored of that. Find me fuckers, if you ever get to this level before I’ve ascended once more.

I don’t know what the deal is with me feeling superior to everyone in these journal entries. In my memory, I remember myself as a pretty tolerant and easy going guy, but apparently that’s not the case.