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’m reading this Big Book of Weirdos, and I’m wondering, why am I not in here? I’m jealous in a way because I want to rank among the weird who shall reign in infamy far past their deaths. I feel I shall, for long is my time and long has my oddity been growing unborn within my brain’s womb. Soon the world will know, and the revised Big Book of Weirdos will be forthcoming.

Wow, I haven’t laughed that hard in a while. Thanks, me from 15 years ago!

I can totally remember wanting nothing more to be infamous somehow. Not famous. No, that wasn’t my goal. Infamous. What I know now, though, is that if you want to act crazy and freak people out, go ahead. I did it for years thinking it made me somehow superior. Then it hit me - scaring people away is easy. Making people at ease around you, and getting close to people is far more challenging.

Side note: The Big Book series I mention here is awesome. It was put out under a DC Comics imprint back in the day. Totally worth seeking out.