I slept at Emily’s last night. It was a lot of fun, but I’m really tired. Also went to Parker’s today, that was fun, too. I like my friends. So why am I still unhappy??
What’s wrong with me?
It’s like my life has this undefined pain, and no matter what I do, something is missing. Why the fuck can’t I figure it out?
Born in 1996
Over the coming months, I'll be publishing several journal entries a day in chronological order. I began journaling in 2007, when I was eleven years old. Even then I wrote as though I were archiving my life, collecting details about my world. As I grew older, journaling became more of a description of my emotional world.
I am an aspiring creative nonfiction writer who is producing very little since graduating college this Spring. But with this unusually thorough account of my entire adolescence, I feel as though I have been given a gift that has been under my nose this whole time.
This is a practice in forgiveness and vulnerability. It is also a way to laugh at myself.
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