Old Journal Entries

I scrounged up my journals from 1985 - spring 1988. This is not an exercise for the faint of heart. Seriously, my use of unicorns as a metaphor for innocence and joy is enough to make me want to vomit (and you may remember just how much I hate to vomit). I think it's safe to say I never would have been one of those high school savants getting published at 16.

But I did learn a few things -

1. I was not boy crazy; I was boy insane! Seriously, every week or two I note that I’d forgotten the previously written about boy and had moved on to crushing on a new one. Most of the names I no longer recognize.
2. I felt deeply unloved and unaccepted.
3. My habit of letting things go to shit and then having a revelation moment where I swear that things will be different from now on, has a much longer history than I’d realized.
4. I put on a happy face even for my private journals. I refer to certain events without ever actually writing, “suicide attempt” or “cutting”.
5. If I were a historian, I would hypothesize that the person who wrote these journals suffered from Borderline Personality Disorder. While a scary thought, that just might explain some things...