So... I started reading this journal that I write in. I write in lots of journals...they are littered around my house, always convenient when the mood strikes. I carry one to work. There is one in the car...etc. So, if anyone would want to read about my life, IN ORDER, it would be a hard thing to do. So, this one journal I have... the first time I wrote in it was December of 1997. So, over 10 years have elapsed... I obviously didn't write often in this particular journal, or there wouldn't have been room for me to add even more yesterday.
The thing that struck me the most about this journal was how little I have changed. I always pride myself on having finally grown the fuck up... dealt with past demons... let sleeping dogs lie... whatever. But, when I sat down and read what I was thinking 10 years ago, it was remarkable how similar my thoughts were to those now. Scary, really.
Guess the hundred of hours and thousands of dollars in therapy really doesn't make a difference. I am who I am. :)
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