I went back thru an old journal this week. Have you ever done that?
Seriously, what drivel. I mean...the angst, the stupid, the…in my case, idiocy.
Was this journal from my teen years? No, my thirties. Mid to late thirties.
I read this stuff, and thought, what are you fifteen? Hell, I think fifteen was easier. Outside of the eighties hair, and the peg leg jeans. What? You had them. Unless you’re younger than me, and in that case, suck it!
“I was thinking today would be a good day, but I was wrong. What is wrong with my life? Why do I let things affect me so?”
I’d rather read the teenage years. Now that was angst! That was drama!
For God’s sake, I’m an adult, I have bills, I have love, I have an apartment to clean.
I want your stories. Why? So I don’t feel anymore stupid than I already do.
Give them up.