You know, my step-grandma told me it was useful to have journals and diaries so you could look back and see what you were like years ago. And I used to think that too, I used to have daylong perusals of old journals. But that was long ago. I don't even write anymore. It seems like such a.. almost self-indulgent, if not self-absorbed act.. reading about yourself. I can't bring myself to throw away all my old journals and sketchbooks, as tempting as it is. I've grown a lot, and I'm only 17. Would life be easier if I didn't hate myself so much? Does it matter? I haven't thought of myself for a while. And I liked that. So, The end. and this stupid journal was dictated by stupid friendships and crushes for so long. Fuck that. Independence was.. exhilarating, thrilling, and pleasing to say the least.. and that's that.
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and this stupid journal was dictated by stupid friendships and crushes for so long. Fuck that. Independence was.. exhilarating, thrilling, and pleasing to say the least.. and that's that.
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