[Feels like home!]

Oh diary, I have missed you so. Once again, where the hell did all my words go for the last 4 years? I can feel them welling up inside ready to burst forth! Yay. Although I have to say, after just reading back through the last 50 entries or so, I hope that I have learned something in the meantime. I hope if there is more to write about Bryan that it is not the kind of crap I felt before (it won't be)... and if there is ever anything to write about another guy I can tell you what it will not consist of: "I met a guy. I think he's a alcoholic/abuser/crazy/weird/gay, but I could be wrong. I think I'm happy and in love!"
What. The. Fuck.
I've tried to have a few other journals in the last few years, but none of them felt right. I didn't want Bryan to read this, because of how he felt about what I felt (about what he felt about what I felt)... and I wanted to distance myself from the detailed records of my many retarded fuckups of my early 20s. But. I'm almost 29 now. I started this journal in 2001. It's my life, and to run from all the shit I had to go through to get where I am now would be to essentially invalidate my entire existence. So there you have it. I will wear my past and current disfunction like a badge of fucking honor. The records I have kept of my emotional life do serve one function: I can see what has changed, and what has not. What has changed: I am no longer naive and being with Bryan made me so, so much less needy. What has not changed: I have a bad fucking attitude, get depressed over trivial shit, and will bitch and moan to whomever will listen.
Which is why I have a diary.

© beotch at
5:03 p.m.
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