2.0: the future has come and gone
It feels strange to revisit dead things. (and by dead I mean this journal) I expected ghosts and ghouls and other dark creatures made of swarming flies. I imagined an expanse of creaking wood and a layer of weeds suffocating it like a tightening noose. Something out of a Faulkner novel or maybe Flannery O'Connor's-- a thing past burning yet forever
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The worry comes and goes really; I'm forever alternating between the too-bright abandon of youth and the sharp vision of impending adulthood. There are parts of me that are still yearning for a Peter Pan to come to the rescue, even though the rest of me is just trying to move forward. It's a confusing sensation to say the least.
It's nice to see you braving the wasteland as well. I felt oddly nostalgic for this place all of a sudden.
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With me, well.. I've never been more lost.
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I don't have a map to offer; but I hope you'll be able to find your own way eventually.
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