witty-remark's Diaryland Diary

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I spent the night digging through decade-old files on the computer in the basement of my mom’s house. There were dozens of stories I had written from junior high. All but one were cliff-hangers, proving that I can’t even pretend to come up with a cohesive ending. Frayed stories with loose-ends are part of my inherent narrative. I’m trapped within this meta, revolving plot I’ve written for myself. Always on the precipice of breathing a sigh of relief, but interjected with sharp gasps. At 25, I’m a one-dimensional character rendered by my 14-year-old self. Bated breath with no periods; always eclipsed in ellipses…

11:53 p.m. - Saturday, Apr. 18, 2015

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