Jun. 17th, 2012

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I used to have this irresistible urge to record my life, to jot down the comings and goings of thoughts in my head and make sure I would have access to them later on down the road. Most of the time, it was all the negative things, the trivialities that now seem like they shouldn't have mattered. But I was younger, a thing that only time can tell, and I had a much smaller view of the world. Perhaps I thought my pain would be better recorded as a learning tool for my older self. Maybe I thought that if I put all my hurt into this public place that someone in the cosmos would see it and join my misery. Or make it go away. I didn't know better. No one ever does. Does it matter? Is it simply one of those trivial things that isn't really one of the things I should be worrying about? I am such a worry wart.

It happened in the past... )

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