I found an old journal in a box in the closet and have been reading through it the past couple hours. I’m astounded by how the documented experiences (and the person who wrote them) can feel so foreign, like it all occurred several lifetimes ago. I’m also staggered by just how illuminating hindsight can be. So many frustrations, now clarified by distance and time.

I was very troubled once. Things are better now.

In a somewhat related topic, if you were around me from September 2007 to January 2008, holy shit am I sorry.