I forget how I used to do this.

It is strange to examine the evidence of my past, and to discover happiness trying its damndest to sneak up behind me and bite me on the ass. Well, happiness, you’re not very sneaky, are ya. ‘Cause I caught you every time, and sent you packing. I have a curious feeling that nothing has changed. Maybe I can somehow get a message back to myself in the past. Or maybe I’m just not on enough medication.

I used to whine in my damn journal about how nobody wanted to understand me, and I had no real friends. Gay teenager shit. Guess what, teenagers. This is your own fault. I can tell now that I had all sorts of people trying pretty damned hard. Well. Rutabaga! I should post some of my teenage gayitude. Geez, it’s pretty hilarious stuff. Then again, I should probably just burn it.

Anyway, I cried three times today, and I what I can’t figure out is whether this is all just hormones, or if I have a better excuse. It’s usually hard to tell these things without waiting a few days. So, I’ll do that, and then either laugh about it, or shoot myself in the face, accordingly. Meanwhile, I apologize to anyone I’ve emoed out at in the last few days. I’m just insane, is all. Okay? I’ll up my dosage.

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