I like it here. The heat is nice in moderation and I would never live in a place like this. The cactai are beautiful to visit, and other than the mountains (which lose some of their charm to smog) there is not a lot to lift the heart. I couldn’t call this place home.
My eating was bad today. I made it [redacted] but today I just had to [redacted].
Why is it that I feel so guilty when I eat? Everyone does it. I just feel so ugly and worthless. I can’t believe I would dream about modeling and not have laughed at the idea. Nobody would want me.
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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