Last night was cool, went to Lena’s house and smoked hookah or however you spell it.
I’m starting to have bad thoughts again, serious ones. I just don’t think I can do it, I really don’t. The only reason things got any better was that I had someone around who wanted me, truly wanted me and only me as an individual. I belonged right there with someone else. I’ve always wanted to be half of a whole and I finally had it and it went away. I feel like my heart died and I don’t have the motivation for anything anymore. The only things that give me the occasional buzz are stealing things or being around something illegal or new. Other than that, nothing. Everything else just sinks to the bottom of 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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