witty-remark's Diaryland Diary

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I dedicated an hour or two to reading through every single last excruciatingly, cringe-worthy, incredibly embarrassing entry in this diary. Every moment, ranging from the time I was 15 up until now, that I felt worthy of documenting or reflecting upon.
It was like running a god damned marathon. Every time I clicked "previous" I took a gulp of water and had someone wipe my forehead with a towel. I feel reacquainted with myself.
Though, "myself" is ever-changing. I should say I feel reaquianted with the fragments of who I used to be. I have what some may call perspective. The advantage of time. The ability to reach into my past and tell that former me "Guess what? It isn't so bad, and if you hadn't cared to write this entry, the odds of you even remembering this would be slim."
But I like those obscure memories. I like that at least every other (if not every) entry I wrote in 2005 had some mention of Jill. It's been so long that if it weren't for those remarks, the likelihood of me retaining those memories would be as probable as recalling what time I took a shit on July 4th of 2001 (maybe I didn't even take a shit that day. 2001 seems like it was the year of constipation. In fact, now that I think of it, I'm certain that's what it was classified as under the Chinese calender).

Anyhow, it's unfamiliar in a familiar way to revisit one's self. Nothing is as strange nor as comforting as welcoming yourself back into the brick house silhouettes of the identities you once lived in.

3:59 a.m. - Friday, Jan. 02, 2009

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