I’m so pissed. My fucking painting is GONE. I’m so mad, I was so proud of it. I never got to see it dry. I’m so fucking mad! Goddamnit, everything I look forward to always gets ruined. And honestly? I feel like I’m losing it. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. And I have auditions for 13 tonight, which knowing me I’ll ruin.
Daniel kissed my cheek today. It was really sweet. OH, and the one day he has his phone, I forget mine at home.
I think about God sometimes. I just don’t quite get it, obviously. Whoops I found my painting and it sucks.
I love Bon Iver so much. I wish he was touring so I could go see him in concert. Mmmm I love the Morning Benders.
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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