What my life has become.
I wake up every night.
Dream every morning.
At least that's how it feels right now.
It's not that difficult.
I'm not that easy.
I went through and read my entire written journal from last year on the way to NY. It wasn't an easy read. Sometimes the things I write are tragically beautiful or beautifully tragic? But I can't really share them with anyone else. Mainly because it's sacred to me, it's where those overflow of emotions are let out to keep yourself sane on those days where everything spills until you can't take it anymore. The good, the bad, the ugly. But I love to look back, even to the one when I was 17 and just starting college. I'm so glad I've steadily kept one since then. The one I have now I bought in SF last January, it's a discarded library book. Lord of the Rings actually. The back has the sticky that's been stamped since 98' and there are random pages from the book amidst the blank ones. After writing an entry I love to examine it, think of all the people who have touched this cover, read this random page. I love to think about what they were doing at the time, even what was going on in their lives at the moment they decided to pick up this book. Did they finish it? Or did it dust on an empty bookshelf? Through all of this I can guarantee the last place they might imagine it to end up is as my mangled mess of a journal. I know it's not worth it to think of where it has been but I can't help but be curious.
Next weekend I'm taking a road trip to Santa Cruz.
I might also go to Japan..
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