I just read this old journal I semi-kept in 11th grade. Of the things in it three things stand out:
1. I wrote "I hate so much."
2. I wrote "I blame so much." and
3. I don't trust anyone.

Why those things stand out, I'm not sure. I wonder how sad I was, I don't really remember the feeling but I do remember thoughts of sadness. I never would have thought that eventually it would all disappear and I'd be happy. I guess you never believe that the sadness will go away and now I don't recognize that feeling anymore, I just know happiness. How did that happen? I am going back to new york this weekend. There are a bunch of poems in that journal that I never thought twice about, one of them is:

On my way down
I stopped at a cloud
and spoke to a clown.
Who asked me why I frawn
I explained my rejection
that all happiness is fleeting
of all my wasted affection
and all the futile pleeding.

Wierd. Reading the journal sounds like two different people, well not really two different people, but hmm...I guess thats it for today, I've got german homework to do.