(no subject)
Oh I miss this journal and, at the same time, don't. I think I need to abandon my romantic attraction to handwritten journals and just try typing it again. It feels more free form. And already, I'm feeling a connection to who I was when I started this, continued this, poured myself into this. A person I feel like I've lost. There's a lot of difficult feelings wrapped into that. And if I'm going to continue to refuse/be too lazy/whatever bullshit excuse to go to therapy, this is at least something.
And I miss writing. As narcissistically self-indulgent as most of it is/was/will always be. It used to be something I associated with my identity. But since working, not so much. So hopefully here's to the beginning of many, hopefully something that expands beyond my sexual problems and drama with who I'm sleeping with. Or, if not, at least maybe an exploration into why all my teen entries seem to be largely obsessed with who I'm sleeping with and our drama.
And I miss writing. As narcissistically self-indulgent as most of it is/was/will always be. It used to be something I associated with my identity. But since working, not so much. So hopefully here's to the beginning of many, hopefully something that expands beyond my sexual problems and drama with who I'm sleeping with. Or, if not, at least maybe an exploration into why all my teen entries seem to be largely obsessed with who I'm sleeping with and our drama.