This journal is officially old enough to drink.
Honestly kinda shocked it's been over four years since I've updated. What a world. Only reason I'm even here is because i got an email saying that today is the 21st anniversary of signing up here.
I remember i was living at my dad's and me and this dude Wes were talking about starting a website or something, cause 21 years ago, websites were cool. He told me about this site so I instantly jumped in. He got mad cause i claimed Deathrockboy for my own. I argued i liked Here Is No Why more than him anyway. Oh to be young again.
I turn 40 next month. 40. That's insane.
I've started teaching. I've had covid twice. I've had several failed long-term relationships. I still don't have a family of my own. People have died. I'm still here.
A friend was surprised i still have this. But it seems like it would be odd to delete it. I have so many memories attached to it. I've made so many friends because of it. Like, i know we all migrated to social media, but a lot of the people I met through LJ are still a part of my life in one way or another.
I love that i can come back here and remember what it felt like to live and love through my 20s. I certainly have trouble remembering a lot of it. I didn't exactly live anything remotely close to a sober lifestyle. Sometimes when i come back and scroll through the entries i honestly can't even remember what i was talking about. But then there are those entries that are crystal clear and take me back to moments i wish i never forgot. And ironically, those are probably the most opaque and impenetrable of all.
The thing that really strikes me is how creative i used to be? I have the worst time with words now. They used to just flow through me and now i struggle to say anything at all. But I'm also not a depressed mess most of the time either. Guess that's a fair trade. I don't know anymore.
I miss that dude, though. I really do. Weird little mystic seeking something that could not be defined, yearning for love and understanding whilst simultaneously being obtuse and cryptic. Everything about my sense of self now is plainspoken and wysiwyg. I'm still writing songs but I've lost the fine art of mystery. It feels boring. But again... not like anyone is paying attention.
Anyway, this became a lot more than i was expecting. I guess I'll take solace in knowing that 21 years later, I'm still here, alone on a Friday night, typing words into boxes to keep away the darkness.
I miss you, old friend. I miss the internet you existed in. It meant more. Now it's just like everything else. Some capitalist trap to sell consumers a life that doesn't exist. It used to be hopeful and idealistic: A community based on communication and secret stars.
We can always look back. It's always a nice thing to do when we don't see much point in looking forward.
Hearts and stars to you and yours.