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[iheartthefrench]

it feels so strange to look over this journal and find that i don't recognize the person who wrote these thoughts.  it is really strange to think that this was me.  it's so sad.  then funny.  then sad.  the years of this journal were tough years.  i mean the years when i was truly writing.  i don't know that anymore.  but i dream about it sometimes

Comments

[proselytized]

i just reread my past posts yesterday and was thinking similarly. I think I was smarter and cleverer back in the day, but writing complemented drinking or the other way around and I ran out of sauce. Half the time I can't believe I wrote something so neat and the other half I can't believe I was such a bullfluffer. But, hey, hating ourselves are why journals are made and reread, so we can hate our oldselves even more. I even sat down yesterday, thinking I would type a response to your impromptu biography of me when I was Adonis. I found I couldn't compete with ketchup packet snacks and clandestine tv snatchers. I don't know where I'm going with this. I'll start over:

Dude, I was just thinking that! TTYL!

[elasticwallabee]

Well. I know I definitely appreciated the guy you were back then so if you've lost that creatively and spunk you had back then, then you should probably put on a pirate costume and drink whiskey until you find him.