Now, disjointed. C’est la vie; c’est la guerre.
January 7, 1975
It’s around 1:00 now. In the night that is. I’m starting to work on that critical author paper I have to do for English. I haven’t got any idea on what the hell I’m going to write though. I’m really anxious about this paper. I really want something good. I talked with Tara tonight and as usual we started talking about how much fun we use to have as kids. We really did to. I guess I was really lucky there. Damn lucky. I’ve had such a wonderful childhood. We use to be two pieces of gum stuck together. When I look back I see things so clearly, as if they only happened yesterday. It seems so weird that things could never be that way again. The fun and laughter. We’d laugh at anything. We could always find something to do. Something to laugh at. We don’t see each other much now. She lives so damn far away. We don’t even talk that much over the phone. But I know we haven’t grown apart. She’s still the same. Oh of course she’s older now and I think both of us are a lot more mature. But I don’t know. There’s a bond between us. A bond I don’t think will ever break. We share the past. Seven years I lived next door to her. And we have so many memories to look back on. Good things, I rarely remember the bad. And to think of it there wasn’t much bad to remember. My God life is so hard.
[unedited journal, first pg., 10th grade]