melancholyFor the last nine years in my life nothing has been constant - nothing really except for this journal. Somewhere along the way i deleted the first year - that was freakin dumb - but the rest stands here as one thread, the one thing i have to hold on to when everything else is falling apart. It's chronicled so many ups and downs, good times and bad, false starts and new beginnings... I really don't know what i would do without it any more. I have other places where i journal, but none really mean as much to me.
And the people i've gotten to know here, they've come to mean a lot too. I don't have many friends. I tend to amass acquaintances - in the past at work and now in my other activities - but the people here who read some of my most personal thoughts... they're more than that to me. Sometimes i write here and i forget i have an audience, like i'm rehearsing behind a curtain... It's weird when i think about it too closely, it gets me all sentimental. I wonder where the people who fell silent went?
